BY FRED G.

BAKER

FICTION

Einstein’s Raven

The Black Freighter

ZONA: The Forbidden Land

The Detective Sanchez/Father Montero Mysteries:

An Imperfect Crime
Desert Sanctuary

The Modern Pirate Series:

Seizing the Tiger
Prowling Tiger
Restless Tiger
Raging Tiger

NON-FICTION

Growing Up Wisconsin:

The Life and Times of Con James Baker

The Ancestors of Con James Baker of

Des Moines, Iowa, and Chicago, Illinois,
Volumes 1–3

The Descendants of John Baker (ca. 1640–1704) of Hartford, Connecticut,

Through Thirteen Generations,
Volumes 1–2

Light from a Thousand Campfires,

with Hannah Pavlik
_________________________________________
ZONA
The Forbidden Land
_________________________________________

A Science Fiction Adventure

by
Fred G. Baker

Other Voices Press

Golden, Colorado
Published by Fred G. Baker. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright ©2018 by Fred G. Baker. All Rights Reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, and

occurrences are products of the author’s imagination or are fictitious in
nature. Any resemblance to real events or persons living or dead is
coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or

by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording or
by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission,
except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

All images, illustrations, logos, quotes, and trademarks included in this book
are subject to use according to trademark and copyright laws of the United
States of America.

Published by Other Voices Press, Golden, Colorado

ISBN 978-0-9996684-7-4

Cover Design by Nick Zelinger, NZ Graphics.com

All Rights Reserved by Fred G. Baker.

Printed in the United States

 Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the following people for their aid and support in the
writing and production of this book: my wife, advisor, and primary editor,
Dr. Hannah Pavlik, for her support and encouragement; my beta readers who
provided helpful comments and ideas; David Sledd for drafting assistance;
Donna Zimmerman for word processing and interior design assistance; and
Nick Zelinger for cover design.
 Table of Contents

MAPS
PART I
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
PART II
CHAPTER 10
Personnel listing for Zona Expedition II
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
PART III
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
About the Author
MAPS
PART I
 CHAPTER 1
Saint Petersburg, Russia
April 30, 2015

The taxi driver waited as I ran up the narrow steps to try the key in the lock. I
held the key up before me and mused that it would let me pass through the
doorway, a portal into whatever lay ahead in my future. I was surprised when
the key actually turned and the door inched open; it was a relief and, at the
same time, a disappointment. Everything had been a hassle these last few
days. I ran down to the taxi and asked the driver how much the fare was in
my stumbling tourist-level Russian. A thousand rubles, an outrage for the
short drive here from the Angleterre Hotel.
Apparently, the taxi drivers in Saint Petersburg were as annoying as those
in Chicago. I retrieved my black roll-on case myself, and the cab pulled away
as soon as I slammed the trunk closed. Struggling up the wet concrete steps, I
left the misty weather outside and crossed the threshold into my uncle’s home
—a place suspended in time.
The air inside the apartment was musty and humid and smelled of
abandonment. The apartment had been untouched for over a year except for
the few visits from the lawyer’s assistant who performed the inventory of the
lonely remnants of my late uncle’s life as part of the estate process. A broken
window had let the frequent wet weather permeate the residence for weeks
until it was discovered and repaired, leaving one room soggy and moisture
throughout the home.
It was eerie and painful for me to be in Uncle Randall’s old place, the
home of a man presumed dead. Propavshii bez vesti, or “disappeared without
knowledge,” as the government had stated, a phrase that left great mystery
surrounding the expedition and his unexplained loss.
There was mildew and dust everywhere, and cobwebs were so common
as to make the place look like a Halloween movie set. Other than that, the
apartment was filled with antique furniture and the trappings of a bachelor
scientist who must have been a pack rat.
After leaving my bag in the hallway by the door, I took off my raincoat
and Burberry hat, now soaked, and set about exploring the apartment I had
seen only a few times before, most recently on a visit two years ago. Sadness
gripped me as I thought about Uncle Randall, whom I would not see again.
He had been a great influence on my life, and I missed him already.
The living room lay just left off the hallway, being centered on a massive
fireplace clad with black marble and a prominent mantel occupied by an
ancient clock, knickknacks, and a few photographs in metal frames. The
room featured a large bay window on the street side and contained several
pieces of leather furniture, soft chairs accompanied by end tables covered
with stacks of papers and books, and finally glass-fronted bookcases along
the walls.
I lifted one photo from the mantel and wiped it to reveal my uncle
standing with two other men beside a polar bear skin they were examining.
The bear had been killed by a local hunter and his skin nailed vertically to the
side of a building so the length of the pelt ran from the ground to nearly twice
the height of the biggest polar bear pelt I’d seen in Canada. It towered over
the men and must have been from a bear at least twelve feet long when alive,
perhaps from the largest polar bear ever seen.
I looked at the men and recognized my uncle’s attorney, Boris Ustinov,
with his characteristic goatee, at Randall’s side dressed in a long coat and fur
hat. On the other side of Randall was a man whom I did not know, sporting a
drooping black mustache, a fur coat, and black leather riding boots. I smiled
at the warm memory of my uncle before returning the photo to the ledge.
Around the room were numerous mementos that reminded me of the good
times we had enjoyed discussing his many trips whenever I came to visit.
I swept cobwebs from my path as I walked through the arched doorway
that opened onto the dining room, complete with mahogany table and chairs,
sideboard, and china cabinets. This was the scene of many dinners where my
uncle had entertained friends. Beyond the dining area, swing doors on one
side of the room led to a fully furnished kitchen. This room looked as though
it had been remodeled to bring it into the current century, with modern
Viking appliances and veneered cabinetry. But then Uncle Randall had
always been a gourmet and wine aficionado.
As I entered the kitchen, there was a crash from the front room, the
library, and a voice whispered a long epithet. I stopped dead in my tracks. No
one else was supposed to be here. Had one of the lawyer’s staff come by to
check on something? That must be the explanation. Perhaps they were
finishing the inventory or some other task at the apartment.
I walked down the hallway and stepped through the French doors that led
into the library. I saw a man on the far side of the room near my uncle’s desk,
wearing a long raincoat and a felt hat with a broad brim, his back to me. He
was pulling books from the shelf behind the desk and flipping through each
one before tossing it onto the desk, now piled high with volumes.
I tripped on a pile of books by the door and knocked them over. “Damn
it,” I cried. “What are those doing there?”
The man turned around at the sound of my voice and looked as surprised
to see me as I was to find him here. His hand slid into his coat pocket as I
said, “Dobroe utro.” Good morning in my friendliest Russian. He hesitated a
second, sizing me up. Then, instead of saying a hearty “Good morning to
you,” he bolted straight at me, head down.
I had no time to react. He lunged into me with one shoulder, knocking me
into the hallway on my back. Without stopping, he ran for the front door,
pulled it open, and plunged into the street. I took a moment to recover my
wits, then jumped up to chase him. When I got to the door, he was already
out of sight. I ran along the sidewalk to try to catch a glimpse of him. Damn.
I missed him.
Then a car hurriedly pulled out from the curb farther down the street.
Like so many other cars in this city, it was a black Volga sedan, and the
license plate was not clear enough for me to get a number. It vanished around
the next street corner in the rain. I returned, soaked, to the door of the
apartment.
I rushed into the library, shaken by the home invasion, to assess what the
man had been doing. He had pulled a number of smaller books off the shelf
where Uncle Randall kept his field notebooks, small volumes that were
bound alike with faded orange spines. I looked at the last one he had handled
and saw that it was an accounting of the equipment used on a recent trip to
Siberia, with notations for special purchases. There did not seem to be
anything significant about these records, so I left the room to find out how the
man had entered the apartment.
I took a poker from the fireplace with me for defense and to bolster my
courage as I searched the other rooms. I found a broken window in a
storeroom at the back of the apartment, where he’d crawled through. The
wind was blowing rain inside, so I blocked it with a cardboard box. Nothing
else was disturbed, only the books in the library. Having cleared the
apartment, I shuffled back to the library, poured myself a glass of my uncle’s
brandy, and sat at his desk to survey the room.
The library had been my uncle’s most treasured room, a large space with
bookcases floor to ceiling on three sides and three large windows to bring in
natural light. I remembered him wearing his favorite argyle sweater and
sitting in a Queen Anne chair next to the tall windows the evening before I
returned home to Chicago. He had been reading, book in one hand, cigar in
the other, a cognac-charged glass beside him. His full reddish-brown beard,
his clever gray eyes, and his wide grin had always made me feel welcome in
his house. I often joined him during those evenings, sipping cognac as he
regaled me with his adventures and enticed me to join him on some newly
planned expedition.
“You must come with me on one of my expeditions, Grant. You really
must. You spend too much time in that office of yours. You need to get free.”
I had often assured him that I would join him one day; now it was too late to
fulfill that promise.
He had always seemed content like that, the scientific adventurer home
from the field, enjoying the finer things. I still thought of him that way,
sophisticated yet energetic, worldly and kind. He was sharp as a razor, always
working on plans or solving a puzzle of some sort.
There were three bedrooms and a bath along the hallway at the rear of the
apartment, two bedrooms packed with field equipment, scientific instruments,
and yet more books. Only his bedroom was not laden with scientific journals
and documents.
A large bed was made up with a down quilt on it, coated with the same
veneer of neglect as in the other rooms. The room was proof that my early
optimism about staying here overnight was misplaced and I would have to
return to the hotel until the apartment could be cleaned. Maybe it was not safe
to stay in the apartment anyway.
My eye was drawn to a series of small red books on a side table,
numbered I through IX, all the same size and binding, aligned side by side. I
reached for the first of the volumes and thumbed through the yellowing
pages. It was a journal written in my uncle’s clear hand describing a trip he
had made as a young man into the jungles of the Amazon three decades ago.
Another volume was a journal about an expedition he had made to Tierra del
Fuego and Patagonia in 1992. That trip had been with a National Geographic
team to study penguin colonies along the coast.
Each book covered one or two of his important field expeditions since he
had begun his scientific career, each a firsthand record of his exploits. They
covered trips right up until 2013, the last four being his ventures into northern
Siberia, which had been his passion for the last decade. It was the reason he
had settled in Saint Petersburg—to be closer to the region of his studies.
A flash of lightning followed by a crash of thunder startled me. I rushed
to the window to see that a heavy downpour turned the street into liquid gray.
I decided to call a taxi and beat a retreat to the Angleterre right away. My cell
phone connected me to the front desk, and I reserved my same room for
another week and arranged for a taxi with the concierge.
On a whim I gathered the journal volumes and carried them to the
kitchen. Perhaps my uncle’s scribbled writings would lend a clue about his
disappearance. I had just finished cleaning the journals with a towel when the
taxi driver honked his arrival. Quickly looking around to be sure I had turned
off the lights, I pulled the door closed and rushed out through the deluge into
the dry confines of the auto.
***
The next morning, still a bit shaken, I ate a late breakfast at the Borsalino
restaurant within the hotel after a hurried meeting nearby with the attorney
who had handled my uncle’s estate. The attorney was Boris Ustinov, who
was very helpful during the labyrinthine ordeal that was the Russian probate
process. I requested his help finding someone to clean up my uncle’s
apartment and repair the broken window. He dispatched his assistant named
Irina, a legal aide of some sort whom I had not yet met. He assigned her to
help me hire a crew who could be trusted to clean the apartment carefully and
not loot it at the same time.
I finished my omelet and settled back to sip coffee while waiting for Irina
to arrive for our meeting. Boris said he would have her make some calls then
join me to discuss my options.
I gazed through the tall, oversize windows of the restaurant at the
dazzling elegance of Saint Isaac’s Cathedral outside the hotel on the square,
called appropriately Saint Isaac’s Square. Tour buses lined two sides of the
square, discharging foreign tourists onto the street where guides held up
numbered placards to identify their respective groups amid a circus-like
atmosphere. The tour groups formed up and marched to the entrance of the
cathedral to view its exterior, damaged by shell fragments during the Second
World War and left unrepaired to remind citizens of the terrible loss. Its
interior was an architectural masterpiece of colorful granites, marbles, and
rare malachite pillars, forming one of the most spectacular treasures of the
Eastern Orthodox Church.
Meanwhile, Russian tourists and locals took photos by the round flower
beds on the square where the democracy movement had sprung forth in 1991,
ultimately leading to the fall of the Soviet Union. I enjoyed both venues. The
cathedral was a spiritual statement of the best that man could achieve over
time. The square reminded people they had thrown off the evil of the worst of
men in their hope for a better future. They both inspired me but in very
different ways.
I was absorbed with people watching out the window but noted when a
black Volga, probably an unofficial taxi, stopped in front of the lobby
entrance of the hotel. After a few seconds, the doorman opened the back door
of the taxi, and a stylish young woman wearing a black business suit climbed
out. Initially she stood with her back to me as she straightened her skirt, then
turned to enter the hotel. I saw what a beauty she was when she flipped her
mane of long red hair to one side and marched into the lobby. Perhaps she
was a guest at the hotel, but she carried no luggage, except for a black leather
attaché case.
To my surprise, she came directly into the restaurant, and after making a
quick sweep of the room, she threw a fabulous smile my way and came to my
table. I was sure the other men in the room envied my good fortune.
“Dobroe utro. Dr. Taylor, Grant Taylor?” she asked in English tinged
with a British accent, a sign she had studied on the island or perhaps worked
there for a time. She was quite tall and slender, as were many young Russian
women of her generation, even without the high heels; in her midtwenties, I
would guess; and a natural redhead by the tone of her skin. She had a pretty
face, with a slightly wide mouth and large, widely spaced eyes, eyes that
were the emerald green of the very best Colombian gems. I had always been
a sucker for green eyes, and for redheads.
I was nervous and nearly spilled my coffee as I rose to greet her. “Dobroe
utro,” I sputtered. “I’m Grant Taylor. And you are . . . Irina?” I felt like an
idiot, but I held out my hand and smiled.
“Yes, I’m Irina Ustinov. My uncle sent me to see you. He said you
needed help with the property you inherited.” She handed me her business
card with a smile, sat on the chair opposite me, and crossed her long legs
under the table.
I asked her if she would like a coffee, and she replied she would prefer
black tea, Earl Grey. I called the server over and ordered the tea and more
coffee for myself, along with a plate of the small sugar cookies the restaurant
usually served with tea in the afternoon. We exchanged pleasantries for a few
minutes until the hot drinks arrived. She told me she was Boris’s niece and
worked in his office as an investigator and research assistant.
Then we got down to business. I told her that I had gone to the apartment
yesterday and was there when a burglar broke in, that I had caught him
rummaging through the library and chased him out of the apartment, then
tried to temporarily repair the broken window in the storeroom.
“That’s very frightening, Dr. Taylor.” Irina looked shocked and
concerned. “You are all right? Not injured?” She was reassured when I said I
was fine, only a little upset. “Unfortunately, we have a few ruffians in our
city who break into vacant apartments on occasion. They may have hoped to
find something of value that they could sell. You were lucky not to be
harmed.”
“Yes, and I was lucky that he didn’t appear to take anything with him.
Well, it’s over now.” I was concerned about the safety of the apartment if
someone was trying to break in. “In any case, let’s get back to the house
cleaners . . . And please, call me Grant.”
“Let me show what I have done for you so far.” She opened her briefcase
and pulled out a long folder. She placed it before me on the table and spread
out three sheets of paper, each listing the name and qualifications of a
prospective cleaning company that could help with my uncle’s apartment. We
discussed the options, and she recommended one company she knew
personally. “These are the same people who clean my uncle’s offices, and
you can trust them. They will also repair the broken window.”
After we discussed how much work was involved, I agreed to use the
recommended company. She called them directly and arranged for them to
begin work the next morning, something I would consider a miracle in
Russia. I gave her the apartment key so she could have a copy made, and she
said she would pick me up the next morning at eight thirty. We walked to the
front door and shook hands. She departed in the waiting taxi.
***
I spent the rest of the day running errands and reading my uncle’s journals.
He was a meticulous writer, recording dates and important features and
occurrences during his expeditions. That made the reading quite technical. I
had to break it up with lunch and an occasional walk around Saint Isaac’s
Square.
After paging through most of his volumes, I grew fascinated by his
discussion of his Siberian field studies. In 2007, he’d covered a wide area of
the arctic shield that is northern Siberia, gaining an overview of its various
provinces and ecosystems. In 2009 and 2010, he focused on the western
borderlands east of the Urals and near the Karskoye Sea, a vast embayment
of the Arctic Ocean that was frozen for much of the year.
I sat in the lobby of the hotel for some of this time, watching the goings-
on as people checked in or out—a constant pageant of businessmen, several
families, and later in the day, a few female escorts for dinner or theater
engagements. In the evening I moved into the elaborately decorated bar of the
adjoining Hotel Astoria. There was always some form of party happening in
the Lichfield Bar as people began to unwind from their busy days. I had
sometimes been able to join in these festivities, even with my limited Russian
conversation. Tonight was such a night, and I joined a small group of
meteorologists who were in town for a technical symposium.
I was engaged in a lively conversation about the Russian craze over the
newest iPhone model that traded for a vast sum retail, even more for an
adapted one on the black market. A man tapped me on the shoulder. Upon
turning, I was greeted by a somber fellow who formally introduced himself as
Captain Oleg Godunov, a fellow scientist with an interest in weather
instruments. He asked me to step aside from the group, who stood in a
spirited circle near the bar, mixing vodka and laughter.
He smiled at me. “Are you Dr. Grant Taylor? The American?” He
hesitated when I did not reply immediately. “The one who recently lost his
uncle in an accident?”
Accident. That caught my attention, even through the happy fog of two
glasses of wine and two vodka shots. I looked him over carefully before
responding. He was a serious-looking man, with a pencil mustache like in the
old war movies, neatly trimmed hair, and pale blue eyes over an average-size
beak, otherwise plain looking in a dark gray suit and highly polished Oxford
shoes. A military man by his bearing and concentration, in contrast to my
own more casual dress and style.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Taylor.” I rarely used the title Doctor except on formal
occasions, but the sudden prospect of new information about my uncle
caused me to respond in a careful manner. “What sort of accident do you
mean?”
Godunov’s eyes widened in distress. He practically snapped his whole
body to attention. “Oh, I do not mean any special accident, Dr. Taylor. I only
meant that he died recently. Do not be alarmed.”
“No, I am not alarmed, Captain. You simply caught me off guard. I don’t
know exactly what happened to my uncle, only that he proceeded on an
expedition from which he did not return.” My overreaction to the word
accident seemed to have upset the man.
Godunov relaxed his stance and raised a highball glass to his lips, taking
a long drink of a dark liquid. He noticed my gaze and lowered the glass. “Oh,
excuse me, Doctor. Where are my manners? I was drinking Scotch and your
glass is empty. Let me stand you a round. Isn’t that what you Americans
say?”
“That is more British, I think. We say ‘buy a round,’ if you mean to buy
me a drink.” Realizing I had put him off by my response to his honest
question, I grinned. “Yes, that would be very kind of you.”
“Then I will get drinks at the bar and return. I have certain information
about your uncle that you may not have heard—certainly not from official
sources.” He pushed his way through the crowd at the bar, looking back
earnestly once, as if unsure whether I would wait.
Just then, one of the other scientists grabbed my elbow and pulled me
back into their conversation about the iPhone. They realized I might have one
of the latest models on me since I had just come from America—the source
of all Apple magic. I disappointed them by pulling out my humble older-
model Android, only a year old, but by technology’s standards, an artifact.
Nevertheless, it was like a new discovery to them.
I was showing them the new indexing app I had recently downloaded
when Godunov returned holding two glasses full to the brim with what could
be only a triple pour, judging by the volume. He eagerly awaited my attention
as I finished showing off another app then relinquished control of the phone
to the group to pass around from hand to hand, something I would not
normally do.
“Here. It is thirty-year Macallan. The very best. Try it. Do you know it?”
He passed me a glass, and I sampled the amber liquid.
“Excellent,” I said. “Yes, the very best.” I hoped my response was
cheerful enough, knowing how extremely expensive these drinks must be for
an ordinary man to purchase at the Astoria. Rubles and rubles. But if he spent
money so easily, I wondered if he was an ordinary man.
“I have information that you should know about the expedition. They
traveled to an area about which little is known, a place usually off-limits to
anyone. They explored beyond the area serviced by any kind of roads, far
into the arctic where the landscape is permafrost and dangerous to travel.” He
paused to see if I was following him, maybe to see how interested I might be.
Did he have information to sell?
“Yes. I heard about the travel conditions. They had special tracked
vehicles for that. I was told they were attacked by bandits. Is that true?” I
thought I would test him about how much of the story he knew.
“They were called bandits, but they were just local criminals who wanted
to steal from them. This happens to many people, even government workers
who frequent these remote areas carrying anything of value.” He sipped his
whisky with appreciation. I began to worry whether, when the glasses ran
dry, I would be obligated to reciprocate with the next round.
“And there is much more, my friend.” He began to tell me more about the
expedition, where they had gone and how they prepared, when his cell phone
rang an unusual beat. I could swear his face turned white when he looked to
see who had called. He ducked away instantly to answer the call and made a
few short responses as a look of panic overcame his features. He had the look
of someone whose superior did not think he was where he was supposed to
be or doing what he was supposed to do.
He chirped a series of curt “Da, Comrade,” “Nyet, Comrade,” or “Yes,
sir,” “No, sir,” responses and ended the call. He stared at the floor when he
had finished, an unhappy man. Then he looked up at me and walked over.
“I am afraid I must leave you now. I have duties elsewhere.” He seemed
to make up his mind about something, then said, “I must talk to you again. I
have papers you must see.” He looked concerned and took me by the arm to
pull me far out of earshot of anyone in the room. “I will try to get information
to you tomorrow. Will you still be here?”
I said yes.
“Good, good. Listen, my friend. What has happened to the expedition has
not been . . . No, how should I say it? What you hear is not the truth about the
expedition. There are those who do not want the truth known.” He looked at
his watch anxiously, sweat appearing on his brow.
“What is it? What can there possibly be that anyone would want to keep
quiet?”
He continued, “It is difficult in so short a time. But I warn you, do not
believe what you are told. And do not tell anyone we have spoken until I see
you tomorrow. It could be dangerous.” His eyes betrayed real fear.
“Okay. When should we talk?”
“I will have to contact you when I can. Until then, do not trust anyone.”
 Then he tossed down the last of his drink and fled from the bar as I
watched, confused and unsure what to believe. Before I knew it, one of my
scientist friends waved my cell phone high in the air and shouted noisily for
me to return to their conclave. I stumbled back toward them and tried to
resume the enthusiastic discussion of a supposed new feature for Androids
that someone called up on my cell phone. I stayed there a while longer but
couldn’t focus on the conversation after what Godunov had said. I finally
excused myself and was patted on the shoulder by a few of my new friends as
I retreated toward the confines of my room.
At my room, I could not stop thinking about what Godunov had said.
What did it mean? I was suspicious about what had happened to the
expedition. It just seemed that there should be more information. Did
something unusual happen and now the government didn’t want anyone to
know?
Sleep evaded me, so I settled into the overstuffed chair in the corner of
the room to think. Normally the amount of liquor I had consumed would have
been sufficient to send me off to slumberland, but my excitement after
Godunov’s statements overrode my sleepiness. I would have to think it
through and perhaps read to get my mind off it.
Maybe what had happened was something simple, like the expedition
staff had been killed by the return of the bandit gang. That would create bad
publicity for the government, but in that case, the crime wouldn’t be more
than a police matter. If so, there should have been an investigation of some
sort. That would be handled at the local level and didn’t seem like the sort of
thing to draw in the national government.
I sipped some water and tried another possibility. Suppose they had
stumbled upon something the expedition wasn’t supposed to see. Like a
military project or a government outpost. That would be sufficient to get the
military involved and might explain why it was secret. There were ways to
cover up such incidents, and the Soviets were experts at that sort of thing. I
just had too little information to work with to draw any logical conclusions
about what had happened.
I resumed reading the journals, picking up where I had left off. That
would turn my mind to a new subject and hopefully allow me to sleep.
 In 2012, my uncle had traversed the lands along the East Siberian Sea,
focusing on the unusual fauna of the area and how certain species adapted to
the cold, especially how they survived the extreme winter temperatures.
Some of his descriptions sounded exaggerated because he talked about the
sizes of some of the polar bears they had found and how they were extremely
large, as much as one and a half times the size of ordinary bears. That
reminded me of the photograph of the huge bear I had seen at his apartment.
As his expedition had traveled farther east into largely uncharted territory, he
commented that the vegetation was more often found a few degrees farther
south in warmer latitudes.
Randall had filled out the remainder of Volume IX of his journals
discussing the difficulty his expedition had encountered traveling in the far
north. The part of Siberia he visited was described as arctic desert or tundra,
owing to the limited precipitation that fell as freezing rain in the two months
of high summer or as windswept snowstorms in the winter. It was so glacially
cold that instruments installed in the area were never able to survive the
extreme weather, and there was no way to service them for months at a time.
Several attempts to do so had resulted in the deaths of two service teams who
had tried to do the impossible.
After all this reading, I still had no explanation of where my uncle was or
what had happened to him. I could follow up with the mysterious Godunov
the next day and see if he could offer me some help. It seemed unlikely but
worth a try.
I could finally sleep and gladly crept into my bed for the night. Visions of
massive polar bears haunted my dreams.
 CHAPTER 2
Saint Petersburg
May 2

By the time Irina picked me up at the hotel, she had already been to my
uncle’s apartment to get the cleaners started. We spent time going through the
inventory that someone in her uncle’s office had made of Randall’s
possessions. Fortunately, the cleaners had already finished with the living
room, so we worked there. The workmen had also installed a powerful
dehumidifier in the apartment to remove the dank quality of the air.
The inventory verification process was slow going as I located items on
the list. Fortunately, we needed to verify the placement of only the more
important items. Later I could decide what to do with each of them. After an
hour, Irina asked me the obvious question: “Have you made any plans
regarding the apartment? Will you keep it or sell it?”
To her this was a simple question, but I was not able to give her a definite
answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“It would make a difference whether you keep all of these things or
discard them and eventually sell the apartment.” She gave me the kind of
look that you give a child who has to make a decision about what he wants to
eat but is having trouble picking his favorite food.
“You know, it just hasn’t sunk in yet that Uncle Randall is gone. I’m
uncertain about what to do, partly because it doesn’t really seem that he is
dead—just missing.”
“But he has been missing for over a year, and the court has declared him
legally deceased. So there is no question, if that is your concern.” She looked
up from the inventory list she had on her lap. “Will you move to Saint
Petersburg or keep your home in Chicago?”
I didn’t live in Chicago but in a smaller city nearby named Elmhurst. I
was an adjunct professor at the University of Chicago, a thirty-two-year-old
single part-time instructor, which entitled me to an office on campus from
which I could carry out my research in paleogeography. Commuting into the
city every other day to give lectures or do research worked well for me. I
liked living there even though the crime rate was rising constantly, and I did
less and less downtown. But I hadn’t even considered moving to Russia.
“I don’t think I’ll move here . . . into the apartment, I mean, but I’m not
sure.” I looked around at the many reminders of my uncle. “This is still his
apartment, and it would be odd to live here.”
“But it’s your apartment now. You can do what you want with it.”
“I know that intellectually”—I shrugged—“but I somehow feel as if I’m
intruding into his life. The apartment looks as if he just left on one of his trips
and he’ll return at any time.” I looked at Irina to see if she understood what I
meant. She seemed slightly amused at my indecision but dropped the topic.
Three weeks ago I had been surprised to hear of Randall’s passing and
that he had left his home to me. He was unmarried with no kids, so my
parents and I were his closest family. He and I had been friendly, even close
at times, keeping in touch by email mostly, sometimes by regular mail. We
told each other what we were working on in our fields of study. He had even
invited me to join him on one of his expeditions to the Arctic a few years ago,
but I was busy with a research project at the time. Now I wished I had taken
him up on his offer.
We broke for lunch, and because the rain had stopped, we walked to a
small café on Volynskaya Ulitsa for sour shchi soup, made from sauerkraut
and other vegetables. I told Irina about what I had read in my uncle’s
journals.
“I met your uncle several times,” she said. “He was an interesting man.
He told me stories about animals he studied in the northlands.” She smiled at
the memory and looked at me with those beautiful green eyes. “You know
that my uncle Boris worked with Randall on some of his expeditions, don’t
you?”
“No, I didn’t know your uncle Boris was involved in the excursions. I
also didn’t realize you had met him,” I responded. “He was quite a character,
always willing to tell people about his expeditions.”
“Did you know him well? Did you visit him here in Russia?”
“Yes, a couple of times. Some of his enthusiasm rubbed off on me,
hearing about his adventures when I was young. He would visit my family
twice a year, once at Christmas and once in the spring, usually when
preparing for his next trip. Dinners were never boring when Uncle Randall
visited.” I remembered his tales of wild lands, strange animals, and
interesting people. It was like having a National Geographic movie as part of
your life.
Irina closed her eyes for a moment and laughed. “He asked me to go on
one of his trips to the Arctic one year. We went on a short trip to Yakutsk in
the Yakutia Republic in the far east of Siberia. We flew there in the late
autumn two years ago. He wanted my help to process the permit to travel
there. The expedition was sponsored by the Technical University of Saint
Petersburg, but he needed to talk to local officials about access.”
“Really? You accompanied him? In winter? That must have been
difficult.” I was surprised.
“It was frigid and rough to travel in that area, even by airplane. But he
needed someone who could help with language differences, and my uncle
Boris said he would not go. So he sent me instead.” She finished her soup and
the server cleared away the dishes.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She squinted at me then understood the contraction. “We did not get a
permit right away, but the trip was worth the effort because the provincial
government gave their approval for Randall to travel there last year. He was a
very funny man, your uncle.” She laughed as she reflected on their trip.
“He said he needed to woo the administrators at the local campus of the
university because they would have to support the expedition. Is that the right
word, woo, as to seduce? He made them his friends in a short time . . . Quite
the operator.” She looked up at me, and her eyes twinkled with merriment.
“That was why my uncle took to him, I think, and they became good friends.”
“He mentioned Boris in a couple of letters. They made a trip to Lake
Baikal a few years ago, didn’t they?” I remembered Uncle Randall had
mentioned a planned trip, but I had read nothing about it in his journals so
far.
“Yes,” Irina said, “they went off on an adventure to look for lost treasure
there. It was a favorite hobby of my uncle, looking for the tsar’s lost riches.”
She laughed. “They had a good time on that adventure.”
We rose from the table, I paid the check, and we walked back toward the
apartment at a leisurely pace along the uneven sidewalk, enjoying the warmth
of the late-spring day. The sky was that clear pale blue you often saw in this
part of the world as the days grew longer.
We stopped at a small bridge that crossed a canal along our route and
leaned on the iron railing to admire the architecture of a recently restored
building. As we did so, a flurry of pigeons, startled by an unknown event,
nearly flew right into us along the railing. Irina shrieked as she ducked her
head to avoid being hit. I was not as quick or as lucky as she and was struck
in the head by an errant flyer. I reached up to feel the top of my head, fearing
I would find a wet spot. I found nothing, but it left my hair in disarray.
“Here, I will help with the hair.” She giggled as she stepped closer and
brushed a few locks of my brown hair into place with gentle fingers. “You
were really quite startled.” She laughed as she looked at my head, touching
up my hair here and there, finally letting her eyes settle on mine.
We were very close, and I stared at her face. “You have beautiful green
eyes, Irina.” I was suddenly embarrassed that I had said what I was thinking.
She giggled at the compliment, gave my hairline a final inspection, then
brushed my cheek with the backs of her fingers as she finished.
“There,” she said with a grin. “And you have nice brown eyes, I think,
and a kind face.”
Our eyes locked for a second, then we both stepped back to resume our
previous admiration of the architecture. After a few moments, she turned to
me and suggested we continue to the apartment. We settled back into our
conversation as before, but there had been a moment.
The cleaners were finished with the front of the apartment by the time we
returned, except for one person who was washing everything in the kitchen, a
big job by any measure. Another was wiping grunge off every book in the
library.
Irina consulted with the lead cleaner and reported to me that they were
nearly done for the evening but would finish the apartment the next day. I
could move in then. She could help me find appropriate linens, food, and
other things I would need.
We finished the verification process, and she left for the day. I asked her
if she would like to go to dinner, but she said she was otherwise engaged for
the evening, leaving me disappointed.
As she left the apartment, she turned back to me and asked, “Do you have
an interest in opera, Grant?”
“Yes, I’ve been to the theater in Chicago a few times. Why?”
“Well, if you like, we could go to the Mariinsky tomorrow night. A ȉ da is
being performed.” A playful look. “And maybe dinner afterward?” She raised
her eyebrows in a suggestive manner and threw me a smile that told me I
should say yes.
“Sure. I would like that.”
She ran down the rest of the stairs to her waiting car. The driver opened
the rear door for her, and she waved goodbye.
***
Returning to the Angleterre, I found that the light on the telephone in my
room was flashing, a sign to call the operator. Upon doing so, I was informed
there was a letter for me at the concierge’s desk. I took the elevator to the
lobby and retrieved it. A short note was enclosed in the envelope:
Unable to meet tonight. Will contact you late tomorrow. O. G.
Damn. I’d hoped to ask Godunov about the papers he wanted to show
me. Now I had to wait another day for gratification in the matter.
Returning to my room, I bumped into a woman in a black blouse and
skirt—the maid, I assumed—carrying towels and linens. Her head down so I
couldn’t see her face, she muttered something about leaving fresh towels,
then scurried out the door before I could respond. I didn’t realize they
checked on towels so often.
I took off my jacket and pulled a can of soda from the room’s minibar.
Then I waded through the inventory list to make decisions about the disposal
of some of Randall’s furniture.
Instead of trying a new café, I dined in the hotel restaurant on tortellini
and wine, still chemically depleted from the party the previous night. When I
returned to my room, I found that another maid came to perform the
turndown service and bustled about her business replacing towels and linens,
turning down the sheets, and leaving a chocolate on my pillow, a welcome
treat. Then she turned toward me in her dark green uniform with white trim
and wished me a good night as she backed out the door to the hallway.
Being an insomniac at stressful periods in my life, I had developed a
ritual that usually helped me nod off in reasonable time. I poured myself an
ample dram of Hennessy cognac from a bottle I had brought with me on the
trip, my favorite sleeping aid of late. I settled into the big chair for a few
minutes and reread parts of Randall’s last journal, number IX.
In it, I learned that temperatures in the far north of Siberia had been
recorded at lower than minus 90 degrees Fahrenheit, where the instruments
survived. The coldest known inhabited village was Oymyakon, which had
recorded that extreme event, making it the coldest documented temperature in
the northlands. The small town was surrounded by mountains, and its
villagers were able to survive there in winter only because a warm spring
supplied them with a yearlong water source. Without that warm spring, life in
the region would be virtually impossible, since all the lakes, rivers, and the
sea froze solid for ten or more months of the year.
It was after midnight when I read the final note Randall had made
regarding the area. He had spent the winter learning more about the forbidden
zone northeast of any populated land but west of the extreme eastern
peninsula of Siberia. There were no villages anywhere nearby according to
the small crude map he had taped into the journal—the only map available.
He had even taped in a satellite photo clearly showing a portion of the coast,
but with the region of interest covered by clouds. He made a note that in a
search of all satellite imagery, he’d yet to find a single clear view of this
forbidden land.
As I dozed off in the chair, something in the back of my mind reminded
me that the maids in this hotel wore green uniforms. The woman I had run
into earlier this evening was dressed in black. Odd. It made me uneasy,
especially after the break-in at the apartment yesterday. I felt compelled to
get up and look around the room to see if anything looked out of place.
There was one difference: When I had finished going through the
inventory papers, I’d placed the folder on the left side of the small writing
desk furnished with each of the hotel rooms. Now it was on the right side of
the desk. The hair on the back of my neck started to dance, but I decided the
maid probably had moved the papers as she straightened things up for the
night. Nothing unusual. Just my overactive imagination. I went back to my
chair to read.
The last thing I remember reading before I lurched for the bed and its
release from a long day was the name of the federally controlled area. It was
called Zona. Translation: the Zone.
 CHAPTER 3
May 3 and 4

The next day I walked to Uncle Randall’s apartment, my apartment now, and
looked through some of the papers he kept in filing cabinets in one bedroom,
separating the material that was scientific and might be of interest to
researchers from the strictly ordinary stuff that could be disposed of. It was
slow going since he had not labeled anything well, requiring me to open
nearly every file to read some of its content. In doing so, I found a few papers
misfiled and set about making stacks of documents and moving papers into
more suitable folders, making it a long morning.
By noon I was hungry and decided to walk to the café where Irina and I
had lunched the day before. I ordered a plate of stuffed vareniki, called
pierogi by many, small dumplings filled with sausage and spices. As I ate I
realized that it would take at least another two weeks to dig through all my
uncle’s possessions in order to do an adequate job of sorting and saving items
of scientific and cultural merit. I decided to call Boris at his office when I
returned to the hotel to tell him that I would hold on to the apartment,
possibly for months, while carrying out my duties as executor. I also planned
to move into the apartment the next week to facilitate this effort.
Back at the apartment, I changed tactics and dug through items in the
library to find out if my uncle had stacked files and papers there that should
be in the batch of documents I was currently focused on. There were no filing
cabinets there, but a few stacks of papers. I used the desk for sorting, putting
them all together.
I needed to put away the field notebooks the thief had pulled off the shelf
the other day. One of the cleaners had carefully dusted and stacked them on
the desk. After scanning through them, I began to replace them on the shelf
behind the desk, a shelf that was just their size, as if Randall had modified the
bookcase to display the smaller, shallower books.
As I put them on the shelf, I immediately saw a problem: the shelf was
askew so that the backboard of the bookcase was loose, showing a gap along
one end. When I tried to fix the shelf so that books would sit on it properly,
the books slid backward, and the backboard seemed to have lost a screw or
something that supported it. I removed the books again and tried to force the
backboard into place. It came free in my hands, revealing a shallow
compartment behind the shelf.
At first I thought it was just a void created when the cabinetmaker had
pieced the shelf together. But on further inspection, I saw that it was a
cubbyhole designed to fit into the shelf for the concealment of papers or other
valuables. In the void I found a large brown paper envelope and a small
locked steel security box measuring about ten inches on each side and five
inches tall. I removed both items and placed them on the desk.
The envelope contained four thick bundles of cash denominated in euros,
American dollars, and rubles. I fanned the dollars in one bundle and
estimated that there was approximately $10,000 in various-sized bills. The
other bundles were of similar value, one worth about €11,000 and the two
remaining bundles worth a half-million rubles each. Could this be what the
thief had been looking for the other night? But how would he have known it
was there? And why did Randall keep so much cash in his apartment?
I smiled as I recalled that Uncle Randall was eccentric in many ways. He
had struggled over the years to raise funds for his travels but had seemed
much less concerned about money the last time I had visited him. I
remembered he had said he expected to come into a good deal of money
soon. He called it a “brilliant fortune.” But then I had been busy and heard no
more about it.
The security box was locked up tight, and I couldn’t find a key in the
cubbyhole or in any of the desk drawers. When I shook the box, I could hear
something metallic bouncing around inside, something heavy. I moved to the
kitchen to find an implement to force the lock open. An ice pick with a
wooden handle seemed just the ticket. After a few frustrating attempts to
open the lock with the pick, I finally applied a hammer from the storeroom to
persuade the lock’s outer cover to pop loose, then forced the latch aside.
The heavy object turned out to be a Makarov 9mm handgun, fully loaded
and ready for use. There were also extra apartment keys; a small, thin key for
an unknown lock; three extra loaded magazines for the pistol; and a box of
ammunition. I set everything on the desk and tried to figure out what the hell
Uncle Randall had been doing.
 I spent the next three hours searching through all the bookshelves for
hidden panels and secret cubbyholes. The net result was one more hiding
place holding over $100,000 in large bills, a diamond pendant the size of a
grape, and a number of other keys for locks unknown.
My cell phone sang out a reminder that I was supposed to be back at the
hotel by now. I rapidly replaced the Makarov in its original hiding place and
placed the books back on all the shelves, taking the keys and the cash with
me. I stuffed the cash into the pocket of my shoulder bag and dropped the
keys in my jacket pocket to get them safely back to the hotel. Then I locked
the apartment door and stepped out into the windy, overcast weather.
The eight blocks to the hotel went quickly. Everyone I encountered
seemed to know I carried something valuable on me, watching me tramp
hurriedly along the sidewalk and across Saint Isaac’s Square to the safety of
the Angleterre.
When I got to my room, there was no place to safely store the cash—my
in-room safe was scarcely large enough to hold the keys, euros, and some
dollars. The rest would have to go downstairs to the manager’s safe after I
bundled it up to look like documents or something less conspicuous. A stop
at the concierge’s desk for envelopes, tape, and other supplies I brought back
to the room, left me with a brown package that I stored with the manager.
I raced to change clothes for the evening date with Irina, pulling out a
tuxedo rented for the night from the fashion shop downstairs. I stepped out of
the elevator into the lobby just as Irina, looking like a movie star in a
designer dress on the red carpet, entered the lobby. There are no words to
describe how fabulous she looked, and I was glad to have the tux so I didn’t
look completely out of place. We hugged briefly. Then I stood back to admire
her dress, and she gave me the once-over. I must have passed the minimum
requirement because we swept out the door and into the rear seat of her
waiting sedan, the driver holding the door open for us.
The Mariinsky Theatre is the home of the Mariinsky Ballet, previously
called the Kirov, the second most prestigious ballet company of the nation.
Its production of A ȉ da was highly acclaimed and in great demand, making
Irina’s luck at finding tickets at such a late date surprising. I expected to pay a
vast sum for the tickets but did not want to bring it up until later, even though
it was pressing on my mind. As it turned out, she brought up the subject of
the tickets as we arrived at the theater, producing them from her clutch.
“My uncle purchased these tickets and asked me to use them for him this
week because he could not come. He was happy that you could accompany
me tonight, as it is bad form for a lady to arrive at the ballet unescorted.” She
took my arm at the curb, and we entered the lobby, moving to the grand salon
to sip champagne before the performance. I felt very uncomfortable looking
at all the finery other guests were wearing, including dazzling jewelry, but
when Irina introduced me to a couple of her friends who happened to be
there, they put me at ease and were genuinely interested to speak to me and
practice their English.
The performance of A ȉ da was spectacular, something I will never forget.
Everyone was on their feet at the conclusion, the applause endless. Both Irina
and I had the best of times.
After the performance, we joined Irina’s friends for drinks at the small
bistro nearby called Percorso, where I had made our dinner reservations.
After a round of cocktails, her friends left for their own dinner destination, so
we enjoyed a late supper at a candlelit table for two in the cozy dining area.
White table linens, fine china, excellent wine, tasty cuisine, and especially
good company made for a charming dinner.
“I am so happy you found this place, Grant.” Irina leaned across the small
table. “I have heard about it but not tried it until now. It received excellent
reviews.”
“When I called they had just received a cancellation. So I lucked out. I
heard about it at breakfast the other day from another hotel guest. He said it
was the place to go on a date.” I smiled at Irina as she looked cautiously
around the room to see who else was there. I asked, “How was your
appetizer? The crab cakes were delicious.”
“My shrimp was divine,” she purred. “And how goes the work at the
apartment? You said you were there most of today. Have you found anything
interesting?” She gave me a wonderful smile and fluttered her eyes at the
same time in a way that seemed to melt my ability to speak.
“I decided today to keep the apartment for the time being while I sort
through Randall’s papers. Much of his research needs to be preserved, and it
will take time to go through it all.”
Our main course arrived, and the waiter explained its preparation to us.
When he left the table, I asked, “So how did you spend your day, Irina? What
exactly do you do for your uncle?”
“It is difficult to explain.” She sampled her kulebiaka, a pastry stuffed
with lamb in a tarragon sauce. “Oh, you must try this. It is wonderful.” She
passed me a fork laden with lamb and pastry. It was excellent.
“I am trained in both science and law,” she began, “so I help my uncle
whenever there is a case where the two subjects collide. Collide, no, coincide.
Yes, better. I do investigations for him and background research.” She sipped
her wine.
“Are you involved in special cases only or other legal matters?”
“I do special projects mostly. And some legal matters too, of course. But
nothing in court.”
“Do you usually work on estate cases like mine? I thought that was more
of a specialty.” I wondered why such a talented person was assigned to me.
“Oh, I see. You wonder why I am helping you.” She made a face that
seemed uncertain, glancing sideways at me, then continued, “I think my
uncle wanted to be sure you encountered no difficulties with the estate and
with the language. I was originally going to do more for you, but another case
took too long. Then the issue with the cleaners came up and here I am.” She
lifted her glass in a salute. “And here we are tonight. Isn’t it wonderful?”
When we left the restaurant, her driver pulled up and held the door. He
was very formal as he stood there with his downward-drooping mustache,
long face that was otherwise clean-shaven, and short cropped brown hair,
wearing his dark livery attire and cap with tall black boots. As we entered the
car, I thought he looked familiar but wrote it off as seeing him on occasion
before. Besides, many drivers of “special” taxis had a certain look since they
were usually security men as well as drivers, sometimes more the former than
the latter. Many had been in the military or other government service and
were trained with firearms as well.
At the hotel I asked Irina to come up to my room for a nightcap,
something she declined gracefully. However, she did agree to come in for a
short schnapps at the bar, and we enjoyed a pleasant time listening to the jazz
combo featured that night. Then at midnight, like Cinderella, she said she
needed to leave and we agreed to meet for a picnic the next evening at 6:00
p.m. I walked her to the door. She gave me a breathtakingly sensual kiss good
night, then pulled away and slipped out to her waiting auto. I stared as she
drove off into the darkness of the square and into traffic.
***
Back at my room, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about when I closed my
eyes was the beautiful Irina with the emerald eyes.
As I lay there in the dark, I noticed there was a weak red light flashing on
the ceiling. I turned and saw that the blinking came from the message light on
the phone. I wonder what that is? I thought.
Then I sat bolt upright in bed . . . Godunov! I’d forgotten to meet
Godunov.
I rolled over and picked up the phone. A message from the concierge
informed me that a gentleman had stopped in to see me and left a small
package for me to collect. I looked at the clock by the bed—12:48 a.m. Shit. I
called the front desk, and a sleepy voice answered. No, the concierge was
gone for the night. A package? He would look.
After a few minutes, he came back on the line. Was I Dr. Grant Taylor in
Room 412? He would send it up with a bellhop.
I climbed out of bed and pulled on my clothes just a few seconds before a
knock came at the door. I accepted the package, gave the patient bellman a
₽ 100 note for his trouble, and closed the door.
The package, the size of a file folder, felt like it contained documents. I
carefully opened it to find a note from Godunov inside with two manila file
folders.
Sorry so late. Here are documents for you. I will be in Moscow for a day
or two. Will contact soonest. O. G.
The man certainly had a way with few words.
The first file was a copy of the permit application for my uncle’s
expedition last summer, the one from which he did not return. I sat on the bed
to read it. The forms listed equipment they would take, number and type of
personnel, security arrangements, supplies, and transport and contact
information for all persons. I especially noted the objective of the trip: to
investigate and corroborate the sightings of unusual animal species/variants
reported by native hunters in limited areas of Siberia. There was a lot of
detail, and it would take time to digest it all tomorrow.
I turned to the other folder. It contained a document entitled—as I could
loosely translate it—Investigation of the Missing Expedition Number 7 North
in Forbidden Zone. It was conducted by Special Operations Gruppa, a group
of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Siberia Locale. It was essentially a cover
sheet for the report, a distribution memo, with only the initials of those on the
distribution list. One pair of initials caught my attention: O. G.
The hair on the back of my neck rose on alert, and a shiver ran through
me. So that was who he was. He was in the state security apparatus. Why had
he singled me out for special attention? What was going on?
I flipped over the cover page to look at the report itself. All I saw were
thick horizontal black lines where lines of text should have been. It was all
redacted, all too classified to keep in the file. I riffled through the whole
report, six pages of blackened text. All secret.
I read the application document that night, going through every detail
over and over until I nearly passed out from the strain of translation. What
did it all mean? Only one man could tell me what that was: Captain Oleg
Godunov.
***
The next day began at noon for me because I slept so late. Breakfast was at a
small café near the hotel while my brain filtered through everything I had
read last night. There was an investigation after all, but no one seemed to
know what had happened. Why was that? Why were there no stories about it
in the newspapers? There must be some information somewhere. I decided I
would spend the rest of the day collecting what info I could on the internet,
since it was not as controlled as Russian newspapers.
There was a shop called the Cyber Café near the corner of Malaya
Morskaya Ulitsa and Nevsky Prospect, the major boulevard that transects the
city center going east. It was a pleasant walk in the afternoon sun, and I
covered the distance in about twenty minutes. Planters filled with early-
season flowers, pansies, violas, and others decorated the sidewalk in front of
shops as the people of the city embraced springtime. The fragrance of flowers
and spring moisture drifted through the street as I walked.
When I arrived at the café, I selected a computer on the bench along the
wall and pulled out a notepad and pen before logging on to search the
internet. After about ninety minutes, I had exhausted every site that
mentioned anything at all about the expedition last year. There were two
articles in the newspaper from Yakutsk, Siberia, written before the expedition
had begun, discussing its goals and how many personnel would be involved,
then one very short article after the expedition was supposed to have
returned. The latter mentioned that the group had been attacked by bandits
early in the trip but had kept moving north even after that incident. Then
there was speculation about the validity of an unconfirmed rumor suggesting
that the expedition had met with further difficulty later on, based only on the
statements made by an animal herder who had traveled to the farthest extent
of the roads late in the summer. No mention of an investigation of any kind.
I was very frustrated and made a few comments about my lack of
progress under my breath. At the service desk, I asked if the young man
working there knew a better way to find out about such a newsworthy event.
He looked at me like I was a pain in his backside. I had interrupted his
conversation with a smart-looking blond coworker, name tag Anya, whom he
was trying to impress. It seemed she was not interested in his advances. In
any case, he was not forthcoming, and I went back to my computer to try a
few more search combinations.
I was just about to give up when the blond coworker came over to see if I
was having any luck and, perhaps, to practice her English on me. She seemed
like a typical teenager, dressed in torn blue jeans and a T-shirt denoting the
punk rock band Pussy Riot, somewhat faded but still a statement of her views
and tastes. She had earbuds in her ears and seemed temporarily suspended
between her music and her interest in my computing needs. She asked in
English, “How have you made your search? Did you just use Google? Or
Yandex? Or Rambler? Show me.”
“What is Yandex? I just did what I do at home.” When I showed her what
I had done, she seemed amused and disappointed at the same time. She gave
me the look you give an older parent who just doesn’t get technology before
scooting her chair over so she could sit in front of the computer and I could
watch what she did.
“You see, everything in Russia is supervised on the internet. That is what
the government calls it, but it is censored so nothing bad is said about the
state apparatus.” Her fingers hurried across the keyboard, calling up a series
of different web tools. They were completely different from what I had tried,
dropping into a different subset of internet links. “We who live here know
that we are watched in everything we do, so we have learned ways to bypass
the regular web you are used to accessing. It is fine for ordinary information
gathering, but it does not let you find information the government does not
want you to see.”
“You mean you don’t use the regular internet? What else is there?”
She looked at me as if I were an addled child. “No, you fool! We use
other search engines and indexing sources for websites. If it is news stories
that you are looking for, especially ones about incidents that the government
does not want found, you have to search with several engines to find out
what’s really going on. The independent news sites have to come online and
close down within a few days, sometimes hours, or the government will find
them, arrest the authors, and shut them down. If they catch you, you may
disappear.” She rolled her eyes at me like it was common knowledge. She
executed the search for me based on the notes I had on my tablet and found a
few short news stories on a site I had not seen.
“Wait. Go back a minute. There, that seems like a report about a missing
expedition in Siberia. Maybe that is what I am looking for.” I took the mouse
from her hand and used it to scan the article appearing onscreen. I printed a
copy from the communal printer.
“So that is what you want to look for? Here, let’s try something like this.”
She typed in Boolean code and hit return on the keyboard. She got a listing of
several potential sites for me to try. “Here,” she said. “You can read these
sites. They all have to do with lost missions and searches for scientists in the
last year.” She wiggled out of the chair and waved her hand as if it were
nothing. “If you need more help, let me know. I will be here until six.”
When she returned to the service desk, I read through each of the sites
and found that three carried small articles about the expedition lost north of
Yakutsk. I could not understand all the Russian text but printed the articles
out to read later. None of the articles contained much detail about the
expedition, but one mentioned an investigation by the Federal Security
Service, the FSB, the organization that replaced the infamous KGB of Soviet
times.
It was nearly six o’clock, and I asked the woman for more help if she
wouldn’t mind. She asked me to wait a few minutes then came over. She
looked at the article I had last read, looked up at me, and said it was no
wonder I couldn’t find much about an FSB investigation.
“The FSB?” She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Are you crazy? There
probably weren’t any news stories about what they found. That agency is for
internal security. All their work is called clandestine or . . . What do you call
information that is secret but not top secret?”
“Classified?”
“Yes, maybe classified. You cannot have it. It is government secret.”
“Can’t I find out more about it? Is there someone I can have search for
me?”
She made me pay for my computer time and printer use, and right at six
o’clock, we stepped out into the street where we could talk in private. She
became cautious as she explained what she could do for me. It was all hush-
hush and felt to me like I was about to be taken by a teenager. She knew I
wanted the data and needed help.
“There may be some other places to look for such information, but it
would take time.” She gave me a sly grin. “I might know someone who could
do such a thing. But it would be for money. How much do you want to learn
about this topic?”
I said I wasn’t sure how much it was worth.
“But if it is a special subject”—she looked me right in the eye—“there
might be a trace on the site so they can track it back to you, so you have to be
careful. Understand? It is risky. There are also the undernet and other darknet
services available, but they can be dangerous if you don’t know what you are
doing.” She eyed me carefully and seemed to be assessing my limited
computer skills, then said, “You would be best to leave them alone. You
would get in trouble.”
I said I was very interested in pursuing the matter until she mentioned a
US dollar amount of $1,000. I laughed and gave her a look that I hoped
signaled I wasn’t that stupid. We negotiated. I eventually gave her US $100
in earnest money. I figured she’d already given me a lot more than I would
have found on my own, so I wasn’t out much if she just took the money and
ran. We arranged to meet at the coffee shop nearby, called the Gloss Café, at
10:00 p.m. the next day to review the information she found and for me to
give her the rest of the fee, US $300 in cash. We shook hands, and Anya
jumped on a bus going west.
***
I arrived back at the hotel to find Irina pacing the lobby floor and ready to rip
me a new one. “There you are. Where have you been?” I received a
dangerous level of emerald glare. “We were to go for a picnic this evening.
Did you forget?”
She was right, of course; I was supposed to meet her at the hotel at six
and had forgotten all about it while searching the internet. “Oh shit! I’m
sorry, Irina. I was working on something and lost track of time. Were you
waiting long?” As if I didn’t know it was already 6:30 and she had most
likely arrived before 6:00 p.m.
“Yes, I was here early so we could have plenty of sunshine. Where were
you?”
“I was at the Cyber Café looking up information about my uncle’s
expedition to see what news stories there were online. Not much, I’m afraid.”
I hadn’t even had time to read through the last printouts, so I didn’t really
know what I had.
“Why are you doing that? Boris already told you all there is, didn’t he?”
“I guess so, but it seems like there should be more information about
something like a lost expedition. That’s all.” I couldn’t tell her that I felt left
in the dark by her uncle, nice guy that he was and friend of my uncle, but I
wasn’t satisfied. I wondered if I should tell her about hiring an internet search
person to look for more information. Probably not a good idea now if she was
mad at me.
 “Well, are we still going on a picnic?” Her tone was more normal now as
her initial irritation had dissipated. “It is still lovely weather outside. We can
still have a wonderful time.” Her eyebrows raised in anticipation.
“Yes. In fact, I asked the restaurant manager to put together a simple
picnic dinner for us. Let’s go see what he prepared.” I took Irina by the hand,
and her response to my grip was friendly as we sauntered to Borsalino to
retrieve the food and my good graces with my dear red-haired friend. She
seemed impressed when the manager produced a real wicker picnic basket for
our outing. She insisted that we drive over in her car even though it was only
four blocks to our destination. I did not argue since it was quicker, and the
basket was heavy.
Irina’s driver, Yuri, dropped us off a hundred yards from the Admiralty
Embankment on Senate Square, and we walked onto the grassy lawn that
surrounded the Bronze Horseman—a magnificent oversize statue of Peter the
Great on horseback killing an evil serpent that represented his enemies, the
Swedes in his day. We admired the statue and looked out across the Neva
River before us as we selected a picnic spot. Several young couples were
lying on the grass already enjoying the view and the perfect evening, some
sipping beer and others drinking wine for their pleasure. Flower beds
surrounded the statue with bright colors and sweet fragrances to complete the
scene.
We spread a blanket on the grass and emptied the basket of the savory
treats that awaited us. I pulled out two bottles of Evian water, a chilled bottle
of Georgian white wine, a freshly baked baguette, a selection of fine cheeses
and cold cuts, a small tub of pâté, and fresh fruit. I poured wine into the
crystal glasses provided as Irina stretched out full length on the blanket and
closed her eyes. She looked beautiful like that and I lay next to her, slipping
one arm around her, which she accepted with a grin, placing her head on my
shoulder. We lay that way for a few minutes, watching people promenade
along the quay or across the lawn, the young ones carefree, the older ones
enjoying the end of a long winter. I sat up and presented the two glasses of
wine for a toast.
“I love this wonderful weather.” Irina sighed. “It is so pleasant here.”
I looked at her face and realized the intense joy she was feeling. “It is
quite fine this evening. Perhaps a harbinger of many happy days to come.”
Irina seemed to understand my meaning and smiled brightly. “What did
you do today, Grant? Have you decided how to handle the apartment?”
“Yes, as I sorted through my uncle’s papers, I found that he had
accumulated so much scientific data and observations that I could not just
ship it home or dispose of it easily.” I looked out at the row of museums
across the river, thinking of how the collection of a world explorer might be
preserved. “It would require evaluation by scientists in his field to pick out
which materials to keep. Perhaps some of his colleagues at the university
could help sort through the material and would want to preserve some in a
special collection. In any case, I would not want to endanger his legacy
without some professional advice.”
Irina sipped wine and reached for the pâté. “I understand. Do you think
that you will need more than a few weeks? When do you have to return
home?” She gave me a sideways, inquiring look. “Is anyone waiting for you
there?”
I looked up and met her smile with my own. “No, I have no one special at
home. In fact, I don’t have anything pressing until September when the new
term begins.” She seemed relieved and delicately placed a bite of
Camembert-laden bread in her mouth. “I could stay for several weeks, if
necessary.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said. “Then we could have more time
for me to show you special places around the city. You know, Saint
Petersburg is the Venice of the North, and we Russians are so proud of our
city with its majestic buildings, gardens, and canals.” She reached over to pat
my shoulder. “There is so much to see.”
We sat there for a while enjoying the evening, and I asked her about her
childhood and family. She had grown up in Saint Petersburg, an only child,
and attended a very good school that her family status had allowed her. Her
parents were killed in an airplane accident when she was only five years old,
and she began to live with her uncle Boris then. She grew up in a well-to-do
household with Boris’s son, Igor, who had died of leukemia when he was a
teenager.
“Things changed for my uncle and his wife, Ludmila, then. She could
never recover from her grief over the death of Igor and was institutionalized
for three years before she took her own life. It was very sad.” Irina looked at
the ground for a few moments as she recalled that difficult time. “I was close
to Ludmila up until that time, but she shut everybody out of her life after the
death. Then I was sent away to boarding school for my teenage years, part of
the time in England, two years in France.”
“It must have been lonely for you with no real family except your uncle.”
“Yes, but I got through it all right. Then I decided to come back to
Petersburg to study at the technical university here. I did my undergraduate
and graduate degrees in organic chemistry before studying law at the
suggestion of my uncle. He wanted me to work with him at his law firm.”
“When did he start his own firm? Isn’t that unusual in Russia? You don’t
hear of many private companies here.”
“You are right; it is unusual. He started the firm right after the perestroika
period. Many people, especially the younger citizens, were so happy then,
thinking of freedom and the change in government.” She looked at the sky
wistfully, thinking of the hope of the nation at that time. “But most of that is
now gone. We are going back to being more conservative with more
government control again.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “We all
held such high hopes.” She turned to me, maybe to see if I understood.
“I’m sorry” was all I could say. I knew we should change the topic. “But
wait . . . Did you ever work as a chemist, or have you always practiced law
with your uncle?”
“Oh, no. I worked for two years with a pharmaceutical company in
Moscow, until they had trouble with the government—something about
taxes. Then I found a job with a fragrance company here in Petersburg called
Fascinations Boutique. I still work for them several hours a week.” Her
spirits brightened as she spoke.
I was surprised to learn of her other job. “Really? I had no idea you were
a chemist. What do you do?”
“It’s hard to explain simply.” Irina held out her glass for me to replenish
her wine. “I identify compounds with aromatic properties that are similar to
the chemicals animals use to communicate with each other. Like pheromones
and similar chemicals. My company uses them in perfumes and colognes.”
 “Do you search for new chemicals to use?”
“No, I evaluate the pheromone-like compounds from plants and animals
that other companies send us to study their effects on humans, especially if
humans find them pleasant in some way.”
People around us were beginning to pick up their blankets as the sun
swung low and darkness approached. We repacked the basket and walked
back toward the place where the car had dropped us off. The ever-vigilant
Yuri pulled the car up and loaded the basket in the trunk. We were back at the
hotel by 11:00 p.m.
I tried to entice Irina up to my room but found that she was not yet ready
for such a step in our relationship. She gave me a wonderful kiss good night
in the back of her Volga, which was a fine consolation prize for my romantic
endeavor. I entered the hotel with that and the basket to remind me of the
enjoyable evening.
After returning the basket to Borsalino, I checked the desk for messages
and found none. In my room, I reviewed what I had learned about the
expedition and rued the fact that Godunov had not contacted me. As I sat
there at the little writing desk, I noticed for the first time that the envelope he
had left me had a return address printed on it that was just barely legible. It
was for the Federal Security Service in Moscow, the organization that
Godunov might have worked for.
He had said he would go to Moscow for a day or two, and he might still
be there. I wondered if I might intercept him there tomorrow. At least I could
watch the FSB office and see if he came to or went from the establishment.
That would tell me a lot about his motives, if he did work for internal
security. It might be worth a try. After all, how many people could possibly
work at that address? I should be able to spot him coming in to work.
I booked an early flight to Moscow from Saint Petersburg and arranged
for a taxi to take me to Pulkovo International Airport an hour before the
flight. It was a simple plan: I would sleep for about five hours, travel to
Moscow, take a taxi to the address on the envelope, and spend the day in
some pleasant coffee shop patio across the street from Godunov’s office
building watching people come and go. What could go wrong?
 CHAPTER 4
Moscow
May 5

The Federal Security Service was headquartered in a white multistory

building on the north side of Lubyanka Square, named Dzerzhinsky Square in
Soviet times. The statue of Iron Felix that used to stand in its center was
intended as a lasting tribute to the man who created the KGB and was
responsible for the deaths of many thousands of people during his tenure. The
FSB offices were located kitty-corner from the Moscow St. Regis Hotel and
across the square from the Central Children’s Store, a massive structure on
the north side of the huge traffic circle. The only café on the square was the
one inside the St. Regis Hotel, which contained only two tables from which I
could sit and observe the FSB building. They were not outdoors, which made
little difference since sheets of rain swept the square for most of the day,
reducing visibility to thirty yards or less at times.
I arrived on the square late in the morning and immediately set about
investigating FSB headquarters. It didn’t take me long to realize that I should
have done more planning before setting out on this adventure, even though it
seemed like a fabulous idea in the foggy logic of last evening.
I scouted out the building, walking around its massive structure first, then
stepping inside the lobby to discover a manned security desk and surveillance
cameras everywhere. One guard at the desk looked me over as if he knew I
shouldn’t be there—maybe the blue jeans I was wearing looked out of place.
After his perusal, I quickly sped out the front door. I loitered around the
entrance for a while, trying not to draw attention to myself, and looked at the
faces of the people entering for work. I smiled at them at first to seem
friendly but then remembered that Russians don’t have the same view of
smiling as we Americans do. They never do it in public except with people
they know because they think smiling people are addled, foolish, or after
something. Thinking about our forever-grinning American politicians, I had
to agree with them.
My brief sojourn at the front of the building revealed two things:
hundreds of people worked there, and most of them had come to work before
I arrived on the scene. I might have already missed Godunov.
I walked into the St. Regis Hotel and felt lucky when the hostess seated
me at one of the window tables in the café. I ordered a café cappuccino and a
small tart from a cart the waiter rolled over for my inspection. Occasionally
someone entered the FSB building, but they were so far away and the rain so
heavy that I would not have recognized Godunov if he had entered the
building naked. I staked out the place until lunchtime, when demand grew for
my table and I needed to either order lunch or move on. I decided to leave
after I saw the price of even a simple club sandwich. My jaw dropped when
the bill arrived for two coffees and the tart. Thousands of rubles later, I
wandered out into the wet square during a lull in the downpour.
There were four separate entrances to the FSB building, meaning that
only a small fraction of the people who worked there were visible from the
hotel. Even if I stayed here until the office closed, I would likely see only a
quarter of the employees and probably miss Godunov completely. And with
the rain I wouldn’t even be sure whether he was there.
I needed a better plan and decided to position myself inside the metro
station on one side of the square, thinking logically that most of the FSB
employees would descend the stairs to take the famous Moscow subway train
home after the long soggy day. After some searching, I selected the perfect
spot to watch the staircase leading down to the trains and stood somewhat
nonchalantly while people entered the station.
Six p.m. arrived, and a crowd surged into the station. It was complete
chaos as a flood of people rushed down the stairs to catch the trains. I
scanned literally hundreds of faces and saw three men who could have been
Godunov based on my fleeting recollection of his features during our short
alcohol-drenched conversation the other night. In fact, one man stopped
briefly to look up and seemed to nod his head slightly, then moved on. I
thought it was him.
That was when I noticed a man in a long raincoat and felt fedora standing
in front of a shop across from me down the passageway. He was reading a
newspaper. When I looked at him, he casually looked at his watch, folded the
newspaper, and walked away. Why was he there when no one else was
standing around in the passage except me?
 When it was clear I had probably missed Godunov, I walked back to the
St. Regis and ordered a pricey gin and tonic at the lobby bar while waiting for
the hotel shuttle bus that ran out to Sheremetyevo Airport for my flight back
to Petersburg. I hoped to slip on board the shuttle without a ticket and give
the driver a token of my appreciation.
While standing at the bar, I noticed that the man from the subway was
seated alone at the far end just out of my direct line of sight. He wasn’t
looking my way, but it seemed suspicious. I glanced furtively at him a few
times without his noticing me. Maybe he was there by chance. Could he have
just arrived on a train or been waiting for someone?
The bellman announced that the shuttle was ready to leave, and I
hurriedly signaled the barman for my tab. I waved a large ruble note in the air
and happened to catch an image of a face looking directly at me in the mirror
behind the bar. It was the subway man. He had been observing me in the
reflection. My God. I’m being watched.
I dropped several ruble notes on the bar and waved to the barkeep as I
grabbed my raincoat and turned toward the door. The subway man left money
on the bar too and followed me out to the queue for the shuttle—eight people
behind me. I pushed forward with the others and placed two ₽ 1,000 notes in
the hand of the driver who was collecting boarding coupons. He started to
object, but when he saw the denomination of the bills, he said prohodite,
proceed.
I boarded the bus and found a seat halfway along the aisle next to another
man. I stared at the floor while occasionally glancing at the front of the
shuttle to see if the subway man would board. He reached the front of the
queue by the door just as the driver held up his hand that the bus was full.
The rest would have to wait for the next shuttle in half an hour. I felt relieved
as we pulled out of the hotel portico and onto the street, without the man on
board.
Traffic was the usual bedlam that Moscow endures, and I missed my
flight to Saint Petersburg. Dinner at the airport was limited to a Blue Baltika
beer and what passed for a hamburger at the Shokoladnitsa Cafeteria on the
outbound concourse. I was vigilant the whole time, trying to be
inconspicuous but keeping an eye out for the subway man. He was not there.
My flight was overbooked, but we landed in Petersburg by 11:00 p.m., and I
was back at the hotel just after midnight, wet and exhausted.
My long day ended with a faint memory that I was supposed to have met
Anya at the Gloss Café two hours ago. I hoped she would be at the Cyber
Café tomorrow, allowing me to find out what she had discovered. I crashed
onto my bed and fell asleep, not noticing that my telephone message light
was flashing again.
 CHAPTER 5
Saint Petersburg
May 6

The next day began well, if a little late. I called the front desk and received a
message from Irina that she wanted to meet me at the hotel bar in the evening
for a drink and conversation. That cheered me up.
The breakfast buffet in Borsalino was excellent as usual, and I read the
Daily Telegraph, one of the newspapers the hotel made available for guests.
No terrorist attacks today anywhere in the world—well, maybe a small car
bomb in Kabul, but that was hardly news anymore.
I dug $300 out of the small safe in my room and sauntered along the
street toward the Cyber Café to look for Anya. The same young man was
there who had been there two days ago, displaying the same level of
disregard for my presence and my questions. He refused to say when Anya
would be in to work and deliberately turned his back on me to make a phone
call on his cell. I didn’t know what else to do besides wait for her to show up,
so I walked over to the Gloss Café for an espresso in a desperate attempt to
stimulate my mood. After a half hour, I returned to the world of Cyber, and
by chance, Anya was there.
She gave me more than a dirty look when she saw me, commenting on
my personal traits with Russian slacker epithets. I did not catch the meaning
of most words, but the tone implied loser and something obscene about my
mother. I apologized, saying I had been caught in Moscow traffic, which
produced a snorting response. The net result was that she told me to step
outside to talk.
“I waited an hour for you at the coffee shop, shithead. You made me look
like some dumb bitch who was stood up by a loser. It wasn’t funny.” She
glared at me, and I thought at one point she would hit me. “In any case, I got
the information you wanted.” She waved around a thumb drive as she made
an evil face. “The price went up a hundred dollars, shithead!”
“Wait! You can’t do that. It wasn’t my fault I was late and missed my
flight.” Trying to reason with her was obviously a losing battle.
 She set her face in a stoic grin and said pleasantly, “Give me four
hundred dollars or I’ll dump the data. All those articles will be lost.” She saw
my hopeful look at the word articles and knew she had me.
I felt like a peanut in a vise, and the squeezing was just going to get
worse. “All right, all right,” I said. “I’ll pay, you little bitch.” I dug out my
wallet from my front pocket, the only safe pocket in which to carry valuables
in this country of lurking pickpockets. I pulled out the $300 I had brought
from the room and tried to make up the extra hundred from the rubles I had
on me. I carried only $300 and ₽ 2,000, way short of the mark. I handed it to
her, but her look of disdain was glacial.
“Loser! Motherfucker!” she yelled, waving a fist at me. “You think I’m
stupid or something? No deal without the cash.” She turned around to reenter
the store.
“Wait! I wasn’t expecting to pay extra. Wait, I’ll get the money.”
She turned back and sized me up. She made a decision. “Where’s the
money? Can we go to an ATM?”
I had learned the hard way not to trust ATMs in Russia. “I have it at my
hotel. It will take me about an hour to go there and back.” I hoped she would
accept that.
“I have another job that I have to go to in a few minutes. I can’t wait for
you.” Now she looked like she was getting frustrated.
Finally she asked me where I was staying, and we arranged for her to
come to the hotel to complete the exchange that evening. I agreed to meet her
in the lobby at 9:00 p.m. with the cash.
***
I spent much of the day at the apartment sorting papers and searching for
more hidden storage boxes or secret nooks. Another hideaway revealed itself
in the shelves of the living room, but it was empty. I assumed Randall hid
things in several places because burglary was common in the city, and few
people rented bank safe-deposit boxes.
The thought of safe-deposit boxes caused me to look around for the bank
statements I had seen while rummaging earlier in the week. I found bank
statements for several months and noted that on one was a charge for safe
storage. Aha. But then I considered that a bank safe-deposit box should have
been something the attorney would have investigated immediately after
Randall’s death. Boris had said nothing about it.
I called Boris’s office and asked for Irina first, in case she was in today.
After a few minutes, her pleasant voice came over the phone, and I asked her
about the bank box. She said they had found one box that held the will and
some other papers, including the deed to the house. When I mentioned that I
had found a key, without saying where it turned up, she became interested
and asked if I could bring it to the office. A man who worked there knew
most of the key inscriptions for various banks in the city. Maybe Randall had
rented another box they had not known about.
The elevator carried me to the third floor, directly into the reception area
of Boris’s law office. An unfriendly woman who sounded bored asked me my
business at the firm and motioned me to wait on a padded bench while she
found me a cup of hot tea. I accepted the drink and settled in to wait for Irina
to extract herself from a staff meeting.
Irina was pleased to see me, if surprised to see that I had brought several
keys, three of which looked like they might unlock bank safe-deposit boxes.
Her expert sized up each one quickly, first identifying the one from VTB
Bank, the box they had already opened. The second came from the Bank of
Saint Petersburg, another older bank in the city. He could not identify the
third key and did not think it was to a bank box at all. He asked if he could
have the other keys, which were generally door keys, to examine them more
thoroughly, and I acquiesced, even though I had doubts about handing them
over.
Before I could ask any questions, Irina had called the Bank of Saint
Petersburg to see if a Dr. Randall Taylor rented a safe-deposit box there and
was assured that he did. She asked her secretary to type up a letter requesting
the box be opened as part of the estate process, and we set off across the city
to the bank, even though it was closed to the public at that hour. Irina
presented the letter to a guard, and a senior teller came to the door to let us
inside. He verified the name and key and led us to the vault. He placed both
keys in the locks and the box opened.
Irina and I took the deposit box into a small examination room to open it
and view its contents. Under the lid we found a single oversize white
envelope. “I wonder what it can be,” I said, removing it and undoing the
clasp. Inside was a second envelope with a yellow sticky note attached that
read, For Grant Taylor alone to read.
“What the hell?” I wasn’t sure if that really meant what it said. I looked at
Irina for her input.
“Well,” she whispered, “he must have had a reason for this. Maybe I
should leave.”
Before I could say she should stay while I read the note, she exited the
examination room. I opened the inner envelope and pulled out several sheets
of paper, folded in three panels. The top sheet said, In Case I Don’t Return
from the Expedition, in my uncle’s handwriting. It had been written before he
left on his trip last year. At the bottom of the page was a warning for me.
Grant, for your eyes only. Do not let anyone read this material. Do not
trust anyone, even our friends. That was a surprise. Randall was not a very
suspicious man, as far as I knew. The phrase even our friends clearly meant
Boris and Irina Ustinov. I was shocked to think he did not trust his own
lawyer and someone as kind as Irina. Why didn’t he trust them?
This presented a dilemma for me. With Irina just outside the door, I
couldn’t take much time without arousing her suspicion about what was
written in his letter. Even so, she would wonder what was meant for my eyes
only. I quickly skimmed the other pages. They said something about the
expedition, his concerns, and problems that might arise. I decided to read
them later, stuffed them all back into the envelope, and opened the door of
the little room.
Irina was standing across the outer room talking to the senior teller, and
she smiled at me. We thanked the teller and left the bank, taking her car back
to the hotel since it was already 6:00 p.m. On the way she asked me what
Uncle Randall had placed in the envelope, looking carefully at me as I fudged
a response. I didn’t like having to lie to her but felt it was necessary for the
time being to uphold Randall’s wishes.
“He left me some information about an incident that happened a long
time ago in the family that I have never heard before.” The lying became
easier. “And he left instructions about what to do with some of his research
notes and keepsakes. I didn’t really have time to read most of it. I’ll have to
do that back at the hotel.” I smiled at her.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense. If it’s family business, he wouldn’t want
anyone but you to know about it.” She seemed a very trusting person, but she
examined my expression closely for a few seconds. I’m not sure she believed
me completely.
She dropped me off at the hotel and promised to come back in three
hours, since we had expanded our plans to include a light dinner at the small
bistro called Gosti, just two blocks from the hotel. She whooshed away as
Yuri punched the gas pedal to dive into a gap in the traffic.
On the way to my room, I walked by the small business center used by
visiting businessmen at the hotel for internet access, photocopying, printing
out documents, and that sort of thing. To assuage my growing suspicions, I
made photocopies of the papers Randall had stashed in the deposit box. I took
one of the hotel’s envelopes, placed the copies inside, addressed the envelope
to myself at Elmhurst, and bought the correct postage at the front desk. It
couldn’t hurt to be extra careful. I dropped the envelope in the outgoing mail
slot at the side of the front desk and took the elevator up to my floor.
I was tired from the long day, so I took off my jacket and shoes to stretch
out on the bed for a quick nap. When I awoke, it was almost 9:00 p.m. I
needed to prepare for Irina’s arrival, and I had to meet Anya. I showered and
cleaned up before reading Randall’s papers.
At first glance, the cover letter seemed melodramatic, considering the
material that followed. He included a list of items he wanted distributed to
certain people and institutions, so I had been partially truthful with Irina
about that. Then there was a letter addressed to me about the expedition.

My dear Grant,
If you are reading this letter, then it is clear that I did not return from my latest expedition into the
Siberian arctic. So I regret that you have to read such a missive after my passing. I only wish you could
have come with me on one of my travels as I think you would have enjoyed yourself immensely. Not this
one, of course.
It will interest you to know that I wrote one of these letters to your father when he was alive every time
I took a trip that seemed somewhat dangerous. Over the last few years, I have been addressing them to
you as my only nephew and heir, even though they have never been delivered to you, thank God.
First let me advise you that if you have inherited my apartment, do not be in a hurry to sell it if you do
not plan to live there. At least not until you have discovered all of its secrets.
I write you now because something does not feel quite right about this whole endeavor recently. I
cannot cite specific events, only the way that the trip has been managed and staffed. That has much to
do with my friend Boris Ustinov, who is my attorney (whom you would have met by now), who had used
his considerable influence to push through the permitting of the project and to satisfy officials, if you
understand how favors work in this country. But he has pushed us to take more and different personnel
than I had ever envisioned and to carry sampling and testing equipment that is inconsistent with my
original goals.
I greatly appreciated his help in the early phases of the planning, a role that he has played on other
trips for me most kindly. But there is something different about this trip. I feel he has some other
motivation than mine to identify unusual animal variants that have been reported in Zona. Perhaps he
has a commercial interest.
He has insisted, for instance, that we take along security personnel who are completely unnecessary in
my opinion. He tells me that there are bandits in the area we must traverse, and maybe that is true. But
the man he has selected to supervise this capability is a former Spetsnaz officer who is ill-suited for a
collegial scientific group. He has also loaded us down with extra arms and ammunition that I feel are
unnecessary. But more about those issues later.
The real reason that I am concerned is because there have been a few incidents lately that suggest I
may be in some danger . . .

The telephone in the room rang, and initially I thought of just letting it ring.
Then it dawned on me that it might be Irina calling with a change in plans or
even arriving early, so I jumped to the phone, catching it on the fourth ring. It
was the front desk. A gentleman named Godunov had called for me and was
waiting for me in the Lichfield Bar in the Hotel Astoria, the same elegant bar
in which we had met a few days ago.
This presented a quandary. I really needed to talk to the man, but the
timing was all wrong. Irina would arrive within ten minutes for our dinner
date. And to make matters worse, Anya was due to show up in the lobby in a
few minutes. I had forgotten that she was coming at nine and had also agreed
that Irina should come by at the same hour. If Anya didn’t receive her
payment, I would never see the results of her internet search, at least without
an even bigger price tag, some angry words, and possible dismemberment.
But I couldn’t miss Godunov either.
Springing into action, I changed into my evening clothes and opened the
room safe to make sure plenty of American dollars filled my pockets. It was
now 9:00 p.m. as the old clock in the hall rang out its Big Ben chimes. I
threw on my jacket and rushed to the door. Only at the last minute did I
realize I had left Uncle Randall’s letter and other papers out in plain view on
the writing desk. The smart thing to do would be to fold them up and place
them in the safe in the room. In my haste, I merely stuffed them in the
original envelope and placed it under the stack of inventory documents on the
desk where I had been working yesterday. Then I fled the room.
As I stepped off the elevator, I quickly scanned the lobby to see if either
Irina or Anya had arrived yet. If not, I might have time to run over to the
Astoria and let Godunov know I was coming, but that would require a few
more minutes. The lobby was occupied by several groups of people who
would usually congregate there at this time of the evening: people meeting
for dinner, those meeting fashionably dressed escorts for dates, and a few
who were meeting in the lobby with drinks in hand for conversation. To my
surprise, one of the escorts broke away from a group of women she was
talking to and marched directly toward me before I could make it out of the
lobby.
The woman was an attractive blonde in a short black cocktail dress with
black high heels and a clutch, typical of the call girls who often appeared here
to meet their dates for the night. She walked up to me and hugged me
immediately. “Dr. Taylor? I am Natasha.”
“I’m sorry. There must be a mistake. I think you must be looking for
someone else.”
The woman pulled back a little bit so I could see her face, a very pleasant
one to be sure, and whispered, “It’s me, you fool, Anya!”
I stared at her face and realized it was indeed the scruffy-looking data
hacker with whom I was supposed to meet. Only I was surprised she cleaned
up so well. Then I wondered if maybe she was a call girl by profession and
that was the other job she needed to rush off to earlier. “Oh, it’s you, Anya.”
She moved in close again and said in a harsh whisper, “Keep quiet, you
fool. Call me Natasha.” She issued a series of derogatory comments in
Russian under her breath. “Act like I’m your date, idiot. Let’s go to your
room. We can’t do this here.”
By then a few people were staring at us, thinking there was a problem of
some sort. She kissed me on the cheek, and we both smiled as she guided me
back into the elevator. After the door closed ever so slowly, she gave me a
clear signal that this was not a date and we needed to get down to business.
“I’m sorry, Anya . . . Natasha. I wasn’t expecting you to show up looking
like you do. You know, so nice.” I looked her up and down. “I didn’t know
you were in this line of work.”
Then she hit me very hard in the shoulder with her fist as the elevator
door opened. “I’m not . . .”
We stepped out onto my floor and let an older nicely dressed couple enter
the elevator. “Which room?” she asked brazenly.
I pointed, and she hustled me over to the door, which opened on the
second try with the keycard. Inside the room, she seemed less upset but was
very businesslike. “I’m not a hooker, you idiot. I work at a bar in the Imperial
Hotel three blocks from here, and I’ll be late for work because of you. These
are my work clothes.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you
dressed like this. I . . . Well, I’m sorry.” I moved away from her and toward
the desk. I shifted the pile of papers there, nervously trying to think if I
should say more.
“Okay. So I surprised you. I thought you were going to have a heart
attack the way you looked at me. But I tried to not look so conspicuous and
watched the other women—devochek po vizovu, the call girls—meet their
dates this way. I did not mean to scare you.” She stared at me completely
deadpan.
I nodded, pulled out the wad of cash I owed her, and handed it over, a
little angry at the way things were going. “Here’s the four hundred dollars. I
have it this time.” I winced when she made a face and counted the money,
fearing she might up the ante again. To my surprise, she dug in her clutch,
pulled out a thumb drive, and handed it to me.
“It is in PDF format so you can read it anywhere. But if I were you, I
wouldn’t let anyone know you have this information. It’s potentially very
dangerous if the wrong people know what happened. I couldn’t get more than
this. Not without getting caught.” She carefully stuffed the cash in her bra,
glaring at me as I watched. “We’re done now.” Then she looked at me and
grinned for the first time. “You have lipstick on your face now from my kiss.
That’s not good if you are meeting someone tonight.” She smirked at my
shocked expression as I dashed into the bathroom to scrub her imprint from
my face.
I realized we had spent fifteen minutes on this encounter. She was
smirking at me and standing by the desk when I reached for her arm to start
her for the door. “Thanks for helping me. Sorry it got so screwed up. I have
to meet someone now in the lobby, so if you please, be discreet.”
She opened the door and walked into the hallway. “If you need more help
with computers and it is safe, come see me.” We took the elevator down to
the lobby. The door opened, and I saw Irina at the front desk, no doubt
inquiring about me. We stepped out just as Irina looked our way. Anya,
mischievous devil that she was, saw this as an opportunity to get even with
me for being so much trouble and, in view of the whole lobby, kissed me on
the cheek again, saying loudly, “Thank you, Dr. Taylor. Call me again when
you want a nice time.” Then she walked glamorously out the revolving door,
past the laughing doorman, into the street.
I received a lethal amount of green glare from Irina and a shaking finger
from the man behind the front desk. His concern was economic since the
hotel concierge had already informed me that if I should require the services
of a young woman as escort, the hotel retained a number of women they
vetted for this purpose. They frowned on “outside” call girls.
I walked to Irina and began to explain before she could say anything
about my choice of companions. “She was only doing that to embarrass me,
Irina. She is a computer specialist that has been helping me with something.
She is not a call girl.”
Irina stared at me for several seconds before responding. Her face had not
yet settled on any one emotion, which I took as a good sign. Her face had
flushed at first, a sign that she perhaps cared. Then her brow knitted together
as lines formed around her eyes. Her face became neutral on me, and I was
afraid of what she might do. She pulled me aside to the hallway that led to the
business center and asked, “Really? Do you think I don’t know what men
want? But you should be careful, Grant. Some of these girls are not safe. I
mean they could rob you as well as leave something with you afterward.” She
seemed concerned now rather than angry. I didn’t know which was worse,
having her think she had caught me with a hooker or her feeling let down by
my human frailty. In either case, her anger seemed to have passed, and she
smiled at me.
“Really, she’s a programmer.”
“Grant, it’s all right. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I am not
your mother.” She appeared to have made up her mind to forget about it, so I
let it go too. Besides, by blurting out that Anya was a programmer, I had
given away the fact that I was working on something I would rather not tell
her about.
“Shall we go to dinner?”
Shit! I still needed to meet Godunov in the bar. “Yes, let’s go to dinner.”
I swept her up in my arms. “But I still have one more thing to do. It will just
take a minute.” I looked around the lobby, took her by the hand, and waltzed
her over to an unoccupied couch. “I won’t be a minute.” She was working up
a massive glare as I rushed out of the lobby toward the Lichfield Bar.
The bar was packed with jovial patrons who were having a wonderful
time drinking the luxurious products of the establishment. But Oleg Godunov
was not one of them. I looked in all the small attached rooms and meeting
nooks but could not find him. Then I asked the bartender if there were other
areas where someone might meet, since the bar extended out into the
hallway. He asked whom I was looking for. I described Godunov briefly,
from my dim memory of his features, after which the bartender asked, “Are
you Dr. Taylor?”
“Why, yes. Yes, I am.”
“He left something for you. A note, I think.” He held out his hand in a
friendly way but not like he wanted to shake hands. He held his palm up and
motioned with his fingers that I should show my appreciation. I pulled out a
couple of hundred-ruble notes, which I slid across the bar to him. He looked
up and down the bar theatrically and passed me an envelope with the hotel’s
logo on it and my name written in block letters. I thanked him and stepped
away from the bar to open and read the note.
It was from Godunov, written in his cryptic verbal style: The south side of
the square. Midnight.
Fuck! I’d missed him again. What the hell was going on? I folded up the
note and placed it and the envelope in my inner pocket while I tried to think
how this would all work out. Then, like a hamster on a wheel, I rushed off to
placate Irina, who was waiting in the main lobby of the Angleterre Hotel next
door.
She was on her feet talking to the hotel doorman when I entered the
lobby. They were laughing, and their hilarity only increased when they saw
me approach. I was about to get angry when Irina said, “I’m sorry I didn’t
believe you. But how was I to know?”
“Know what?” I tried to stay calm.
“Nicholas said he knows that girl you were with and her name is Anya.
He knew her when she worked at another hotel as a waitress. He said she
works nearby. He saw me getting upset and thought he should explain that
she has a strange sense of humor.” Nicholas, who had always been friendly to
me, reached out a large paw and punched me in the shoulder like we were old
drinking buddies. I tried to smile.
“So you believe me now? I told you she was just helping me.” I gave her
a harsh look that must have hit home because she reached for my unpunched
arm and pulled me over for a peck on the cheek.
“Maybe you’re not such the rascal as I imagined.” She rubbed against my
shoulder. “Maybe we should go to dinner before any more girls come running
to kiss you.”
We left the lobby as Nicholas continued to chuckle and wandered off to
spread the story to other staff members. Maybe the manager would hear
about it and cut me some slack.
 CHAPTER 6
May 6

We had a wonderful dinner at Gosti, a trendy bistro with a collection of

Russian and Continental dishes and fine wines. We caught up on things
quickly as Irina told me of her day’s events. She informed me that the expert
in her office had deciphered the type of box the remaining key would open: a
small personal lockbox like the ones people kept their valuables in. Maybe
Randall had possessed such a box at one time before he obtained a bank box
for safekeeping of documents.
She had brought back several large keys I had left with her, keys they
believed were just house keys, for me to try in all the locks.
Then she asked me who it was I had rushed off to see in the bar. I was
surprised she assumed it was a person, but that seemed a logical conclusion
on her part. So I told her, “I was to meet that fellow Godunov, but I missed
him. Maybe he will stop by again later in the evening.”
“Oh, it’s too bad you missed him.” She raised her eyebrows, perhaps
hoping I would say more, but I remained silent. Instead, I told her about my
progress with Randall’s papers, which did not seem to interest her very much.
Then she said, “I stopped by your apartment yesterday but didn’t find you
there. I thought we could have lunch.”
“Oh, I was there part of the morning, but then I took time for a long walk
and lunch by the Admiralty Embankment. It was a nice day.” Then I realized
I did not know what kind of day it had been in Saint Petersburg because I had
been caught in torrential rain in Moscow.
“Yes, it was a pleasant day, at least in the afternoon. I needed to stay
indoors all day working on another project for Uncle Boris. I needed a break,
so I thought of you.” She reached under the corner of the table to squeeze my
hand.
We returned to my hotel at 11:30 p.m. and went to the Borsalino bar for
drinks. I told her that I was hoping Godunov would return around midnight to
talk. He might have something for me. As soon as I said that, I noticed Irina’s
face perk up with sudden interest.
“I hope he comes to see you. I would like to meet this mysterious man,
Godunov.” Irina seemed intrigued by the fact that someone might have
information about the expedition she might not have heard before. “Maybe I
can hear what he says and then tell you if any of the information is new or
not.” She put her hand on my forearm for emphasis. “Really, Grant. I’m sure
that my uncle would already have heard all there is to know about the
matter.”
“Well, we’ll see. He said he might have something to give me that would
be important. I hope so.” Then I said, “Just a minute, Irina. I’m going to let
the front desk know where I am in case he comes in early. I’ll be right back.”
I walked to the desk and asked if there were any new messages for me.
None. I let the clerk know I was expecting someone and told him we were in
the Borsalino bar, then returned to Irina.
She was on her cell phone facing the front window when I arrived, her
back to me so she didn’t see me approach. As I came near, I saw she was
looking out the front window toward Saint Isaac’s Square. Outside on the
sidewalk, I saw her driver, Yuri, standing there in a long black coat, looking
through the glass back at her, also on the telephone. I came up behind her and
reached out to touch her shoulder just as Yuri waved his arm at her and she
spun around.
Irina dropped her phone on the floor as she lurched off her barstool. I
tried to catch her, but she reacted with a swift chop to my arm, knocking my
hand away. Then she recovered and looked at me as if in surprise. “Oh my
God. You scared me.”
At first I pulled my arms back to let her regain her balance. Then I
walked over to her. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just went to put my hand on
your shoulder.”
She looked up at me sheepishly and gazed with embarrassment at the
several people who came over to see what had happened. She announced that
she was fine and explained that she had merely slipped out of her chair
unexpectedly. “Too much to drink already,” she said and raised her glass in a
toast to the room of fellow imbibers. People began to laugh, then a muffled
cheer rose from the happy crowd before everyone returned to their
conversations.
I scanned the street outside. Yuri had vanished.
 Irina and I talked for a few minutes, and by that time it was nearly
midnight. I told her I would be right back, departed the bar via the lobby
while putting on my raincoat, and ducked outside. I headed straight for the
south side of Saint Isaac’s Square only a block away to meet Godunov. Being
that he was a military man, I assumed he would be there on the strike of
twelve. I was right.
As I reached the garden on the south side of the square, I saw two couples
walking around it in the darkness of the overcast night. The smell of the
early-season flowers planted in flower boxes sweetened the humid air. Early
buds were readying themselves for an early spring at this latitude. I scanned
the shadows for Godunov.
Across from me, a man wearing a long raincoat like mine stood next to a
large shrub so that his shadow blended with that of the plant. When he saw
me, he moved out of the darkness and toward the north end of the garden. We
met there.
“I’m sorry we missed each other earlier,” I said. “I got hung up with a
woman I owed money to.”
“My friend, that is the trouble with women. They always want attention,
and if not that, then money.” He laughed quietly while looking around us at
the shadows across the garden. I followed his gaze just in time to see the
silhouette of a man in a long coat back into the bushes.
“Listen,” he said, “you may have been followed, so I’ll keep this short.
Here is something that no one else has seen. At least I don’t think they have
seen it. It’s your uncle’s diary from the trip. It makes interesting reading. We
will have to meet again. I’m afraid to discuss it here.”
I was shocked as I accepted the journal wrapped in brown paper. “How
did you get this, Godunov? Did you know my uncle? Were you with him on
the expedition? I’ve been trying to figure out your role in all this.”
He looked straight at me and said, “No, I wish I had known your uncle.
He seemed like a good man. I only know of him because I was one of the
men sent to find out what happened to his expedition after it failed to return.”
“You were there? Where did you go?”
“We followed all the way to the marshlands to find them. It was very
dangerous, but we found debris from their passage and a few bodies along the
way. If you read the diary, you will understand more of it.” He looked to his
right and stepped back into the shadows. “I must go. I will draw this man
away. He has followed you since Moscow. You must walk back to the hotel
now before it’s too late.”
“Wait. You saw me in Moscow?”
“You did not think I saw you at the subway? He did too. He’s FSB. Now
go.”
Godunov turned and moved silently into the bushes, leaving me to
withdraw. I took his advice and walked briskly toward the hotel, tripping in
the dark on an unseen marker on the side of the path and landing in a muddy
puddle. Regaining my feet, I heard footsteps running behind me, but they
stopped at the edge of the trees. I thought I heard a muffled gunshot behind
me as I came out into the open and crossed the street to the front door of the
hotel.
I was breathing hard as I walked to the desk, wiping muddy water from
my coat sleeve, the doorman following right behind me to see if anything was
the matter. I assured him I was okay and turned to the clerk at the desk. “I
wish to place this item in the safe for the night if I may.” I handed him the
brown package and my keycard to show I was a guest at the hotel.
“Yes, of course, Dr. Taylor. I will do so now. Do you wish a receipt?”
“Yes, thank you.” I slipped the receipt into my wallet and hastened to my
room to clean up after my harrowing experience. I washed my hands and arm
where I had landed from the fall and changed my shirt.
As a precaution, I took Godunov’s note and envelope out of my jacket,
pulled out my cigarette lighter, and burned them in the metal wastebasket.
I returned to Irina at the bar. She was very concerned that I had been gone
so long, but she immediately asked if Godunov was here yet. I said no, not
wanting to tell her we had met in the square moments ago. Somehow I
needed to process what had just happened. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t
focus on it now with Irina there trying to make conversation. She probably
thought this was becoming a very strange date.
“Grant. Grant. What is going on? You are not being here with me. You
are off in some other place of your own.” She shook me by the shoulder to
get my attention. “What is the matter?”
 I looked at her in confusion. Maybe I had hit my head when I fell down.
Still, I had a feeling that something bad had happened or was about to
happen. Irina had a worried expression as she put her hand on my forehead
like my mother used to do when I had a fever.
“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”
How could I look well with all this stuff going on? A secret meeting in
the park at midnight, people chasing me, burglars, secret documents? And
Godunov had said he was part of the investigation into my uncle’s lost
expedition. How did it all fit together?
I looked at Irina, that beautiful, wonderful face now creased with concern
for me. Yet could I trust her? My uncle’s warning about her uncle made me
wonder if I should be careful about what I told her. I felt paralyzed by
uncertainty, by deceit, by secrets. Yet as I looked into those emerald depths, I
felt comforted. She was trying to help me now. I should at least trust her on
some level.
“I’m just overwhelmed by everything, that’s all,” I finally blurted out.
“So much has gone wrong tonight with . . . well, everything. I’m afraid it has
ruined our night out together.”
She sat back and looked at me with a wry smile. Then she laughed as she
took my right hand and said, “It has been a busy night so far, I must agree.
For a moment there, I thought you were having a seizure or something. You
just looked blank for a few moments.”
I tried to make light of the situation. “I suppose I should warn you about
my severe mood swings and a dual personality on full moon nights. Look,
you can see the fur growing on my hand now.” I showed her my left hand
where I had fallen as a joke. She thought it was funny and laughed and kissed
the back of my hand. Maybe we can salvage this evening after all, I thought.
There was a sudden commotion at the front door of the hotel, men
running in and shouting. Someone ran to the desk and shouted that they
needed a doctor. We couldn’t see what was unfolding from our seats, so I
stood to see what was happening. Irina’s phone rang at the same time, and I
heard her talking to Yuri about the car. People in the restaurant were looking
out the window toward the square. A few women shrieked, and the muttering
grew very loud. They were pointing at the street. There was great confusion.
 The sound of footsteps came to my ears as the young desk clerk, looking
wild with fear, ran into the bar from the lobby. He looked around the room
and his eyes settled on me. He rushed over. “Dr. Taylor, you must come.
There has been an accident. Please come with me.” The man grabbed ahold
of my jacket and dragged me from the room while Irina gripped my arm.
It wasn’t clear what was happening. Then I realized that the clerk thought
I was a medical doctor. “Wait. I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m a PhD, a
doctor of philosophy, not an MD.” It didn’t matter; the doorman grabbed
ahold of my other arm and propelled me through the lobby and out the doors
onto the street. I tried to resist as we pushed through the crowd of people that
had formed by now.
As we came into the open, four men appeared carrying something large
between them, something dark and bloody. They set it on the asphalt in front
of me and stepped away. The clerk pushed me forward until I nearly tripped
on a foot that lay akimbo on the wet asphalt in the dark. It was a man’s body,
blood oozing from wounds unseen. I looked for a face in the bundle of
clothing and knelt down to try to straighten out the body to lie flat, assisted
by the doorman, who seemed to have dealt with accidents before. It was the
body of a man dressed in a dark suit and long raincoat, wet from the rain and
soaked in blood. He appeared to be dead.
Having witnessed a few accidents before, I knew there was little we
could do for him. I turned to the doorman and asked in Russian if an
ambulance had been called. He said yes; it would arrive soon. But I knew
there were too few ambulances in the city, and it would likely be too late to
help this poor soul.
All I could think to do was talk to the man in case he was only
unconscious and try to comfort him. I pulled out the few sheets of tissue I
carried in place of a real handkerchief and wiped some of the blood from his
face. As I did so, I thought he looked familiar. I wiped some more and
recognized the face of Oleg Godunov!
Just then he opened an eye and I jumped back, bumping into a man
behind me who caught me and pushed me forward again. The eye was
unfocused at first, searching the crowd. Then it homed in on my face.
“Taylor,” he whispered harshly. He looked desperate and tried to lift his head
from the ground, but it was too much effort. He raised one arm slightly and
motioned with his fingers for me to come closer to him. I leaned in, and he
said something I could not understand. He spoke Russian and said it again.
Still I couldn’t hear. Finally I leaned my head down nearly to the ground, my
ear next to his mouth, and with his dying breath, he said faintly, “Zona!”
Godunov died just as paramedics pushed their way through the crowd
and took command of the scene. I was pushed back with the crowd by a
policeman who tried to make way for a stretcher cart from the ambulance.
A man in the crowd said it was a hit-and-run accident. Someone had seen
it happen from across the square. A large black sedan had run up on the
sidewalk and hit the man without even slowing down. He said they should
get these dangerous drunk drivers off the street. It was becoming a real
problem when they were so drunk and reckless. The streets were not safe
anymore.
I took one last look at Godunov and melted into the crowd.
I felt completely shaken when I stepped back into the hotel and searched
for Irina. She was in the lobby and ran toward me. She looked upset, concern
stamped on her face, eyes questioning. I told her Godunov was dead.
Irina suddenly turned pale and looked at the floor, saying nothing at first.
Then she whispered, “That’s terrible. Isn’t he the man you were going to
meet tonight? What a terrible thing to happen.” As I watched her face, I
wondered how upset she was. She looked like she was thinking about
something else when she spoke—reacting like it was not a complete surprise.
The ambulance drove off with the victim on board, and a squad of police
began taking statements from the few witnesses who were still available. A
policeman asked me what I knew of the accident. I told him I had been there
only after it happened, that the hotel clerk had mistaken me for a medical
doctor and brought me to the scene, but the man was beyond help. He asked
if the victim had said anything, and I replied he had, but I couldn’t
understand him. I lied and said it sounded like he was calling for his mother. I
didn’t want to get involved and especially didn’t want to let on what he had
said or that I knew Godunov. At this, the policeman looked up and stared at
me to see if I was telling the truth, then agreed that it was a likely thing for a
man to say before dying. Then he moved on to talk to other witnesses. We
were all to wait until we were interviewed by the police.
By then it was 1:00 a.m., and Irina wanted to go back to the bar, but I
didn’t want to deal with a crowd right then, especially since people were
asking me what I had done to help the man. The bar was now packed with
people repeating the few facts that were available and inventing new ones to
keep the conversation lively. I told Irina I was going to my room and asked if
she would come.
In my room, I took off my jacket and settled Irina on the small couch
with a glass of Hennessy while I washed my hands in the bathroom sink.
When I came out, she was straightening things up in the room, hanging up
my jacket, and restacking papers and books on the desk and side table. I
charged a glass with a good pour of cognac for myself and sat on the couch
as she joined me, sitting close. She took my free hand and squeezed gently.
“It must have been awful to see the man dead like that.”
I took her hand and said, “It’s been a pretty awful day overall.” Then I
inadvertently let it slip that at least he had left me something. She perked up
at that news, and I wondered what she was thinking. What was her interest in
poor old dead Godunov?
I set my glass on the end table and reached an arm around Irina to pull
her close. She willingly slid over, and after a second’s pause, we kissed. It
was gentle and cautious at first but then passionate. She placed a hand on my
thigh as she leaned into me. I placed my free hand on her breast and squeezed
gently as the kiss deepened. I leaned over to unbutton her blouse, and she
suddenly shut down and pulled away from me.
“Grant, maybe this is not the right time,” she said. “It has been a real
shock tonight. Maybe we should wait.”
My mind was still in passion mode, and I couldn’t shut it off that fast, but
I slowly pulled my head away and let my hand drop from her breast. How
extremely frustrating. My emotions were on fire and she had shut me down.
“What do you mean?”
She tried to compensate. “Maybe we should call it a night and plan for
lovemaking tomorrow instead,” she offered. “It’s very late and I’m tired. And
Yuri called to say that there was a problem with the car, so I have to take a
taxi home on my own.”
 “You could stay,” I suggested. “I would love for you to stay.” There, I
said it.
She smiled sheepishly at me. “Yes, but it has been a long day.”
At this point, I’d had enough. “Yes, maybe it’s not the right time,” I said
brusquely. “I’ll take you down to the lobby and call you a taxi.” I stood up
abruptly and pulled my jacket from the closet where she had stowed it. “Go
or stay. Just do it because you want to.” When she looked puzzled and did not
respond right away, I said, “Come on.”
For some reason she was surprised by my reaction. I led her to the
elevator and we descended to the lobby. A taxi was already there, even at this
hour, and we walked outside so she could have a secure ride home. We said
good night and kissed lightly like friends. She climbed in, I closed the door,
and she looked back as the taxi pulled away.
I rode the elevator up to my floor and headed for my room. A maid was
just coming out of the room, sheets in hand, head bowed. She walked to
another room down the hall and knocked lightly on the door as I watched.
She wore a green and white uniform as was appropriate for the hotel. I
entered my room, dropped my jacket on the bed, and sat on the couch. I
sipped my cognac and rubbed my forehead, exhausted. What a day.
Poor Godunov. He had died trying to help me. What a rotten twist of fate.
It seemed that everything associated with Randall’s expedition or its
investigation led to bad luck and misery. Why was that? What had really
happened?
Then I thought about the maid. Why would a maid be working at one
thirty in the morning?
I jumped to my feet and ran to the door just as someone knocked. Good.
Maybe the maid had come back. I yanked the door wide open.
Irina threw herself into my arms before I could react. She kissed me
wildly and blurted, “I’m sorry! So sorry. I want to stay with you tonight.
Please don’t send me away.” She smothered my mouth with hers—deep,
warm kisses—all the while pushing me back toward the bed. I managed to
pull away and slam the door closed before she grabbed me by the shirt and
pulled me down on the mattress.
So went the first night of our love affair.
 CHAPTER 7
May 7

When I awoke the next morning, Irina was already up, quietly rustling
through the writing desk while wearing one of my dress shirts. She was
startled when I said, “Dobroe utro. How did you sleep?”
She put a few things back in one of the desk drawers and turned around
to smile at me. “I was looking for a pen to write a note. I didn’t mean to make
so much noise.” She came over to the bed, took off the shirt in a sultry
manner, and crawled in next to me, feeling chilled compared to the relative
warmth under the covers. We made love quietly until there was a knock at the
door, and I realized it was 10:00 a.m. The maid was there to clean the room.
After showering, we dressed and rode the elevator downstairs for eggs
and coffee at the restaurant. Irina called Yuri to check the status of the car
and find out whether she should expect to have it for the day. She managed to
reach him, and he told her the car would be out of service for repairs a few
days because of an accident. “He says someone ran into the car when it was
parked in front of the hotel last night. The left front fender and grill were
smashed.”
“Really? It’s amazing he doesn’t have more accidents, given the way he
drives.” I wondered what had really happened. In any case, she was without a
car and driver unless Yuri could arrange a temporary replacement.
Irina left by taxi to go to her uncle’s apartment where she also resided.
We agreed we would do something together that evening.
I rushed back to my room and searched the desk for the letter and papers
Uncle Randall had left me. I searched everywhere—in the drawers, inside
other documents, and in all the places I had papers or notebooks stacked. No
luck, even though they had been under the stack of inventory listings on the
desk just last night.
Shit. Where could they have gone?
I was angry at myself for being too stupid to put the papers away
properly. I threw the inventory papers on the floor, knocking over the desk
lamp. Damn it. How could I have forgotten them for so long?
 Then I thought back to the unruly chain of events last night and began to
wonder what had really happened. Ever since I had obtained Randall’s letter,
there had been a constant stream of people in my room.
First, Anya had come up for her payment, and she had lingered near the
desk. But she couldn’t have known I possessed those specific documents, just
that I was interested in the lost expedition.
Next, Irina was in my room after the accident. She had been moving
papers around last night, and she was digging in the desk this morning. She
certainly knew about my uncle’s papers and would be interested in them. She
had plenty of opportunity to take them. She also knew I had received
something from Godunov. That worried me.
Then I remembered the maid coming to the room after midnight. It
wasn’t the first time an unexplained maid had entered my room. Could she
have known what I was reading? And why after midnight? Why after I met
Godunov? Was she looking for Randall’s papers or for Godunov’s package?
A sinking feeling came over me when I thought about Irina’s sudden
change of heart last night. She had come back after she learned I received
something from Godunov. Was it love? It sure had seemed that way last
night.
I remembered that I had stored Randall’s journal downstairs in the safe.
The answers to many of my questions might be hidden in that volume. I
rushed to the lobby and recovered Godunov’s package. I placed it in my
shoulder bag and was about to leave the hotel to walk over to my apartment
when my cell phone rang its tune.
It was Boris Ustinov. He was quite friendly and even effusive in his
invitation to come to his apartment that night for dinner and a meeting. He
was rather vague about the nature of the meeting but said it concerned my
uncle’s expedition and that he possessed information he had not yet shared
with me. He could not explain further over the phone, coughing briefly, a
sign of his poor health. Irina would be there along with other people whom I
should meet. We agreed on 8:00 p.m., and he texted me the address.
I was in shock after the call was over. “Damn him!” I said out loud. He
had been holding back information from me all along. I suspected he had not
told me everything, perhaps details of what had happened on the expedition,
thinking I would not want to know. But why tell me anything new now? Did
he suspect I had found information that would compromise him? Did he have
secrets?
Instead of going to the apartment where Irina might stop in, I sauntered to
the Café Nevsky three blocks away, where no one would think to look for
me. I ordered black tea and unwrapped the package Godunov had died to
deliver to me. Inside was a red leather-bound journal exactly like the ones in
which Randall had recorded the rest of his adventures. It was labeled Volume
X. Expedition to Zona.
I read through the first part of the text quickly, it being a discussion of the
preparation for last year’s trip to Siberia, including a lot of details about who
was involved in different aspects of the planning. It was as if Randall had
created a record for his future reference. There was discussion on March 20
of last year about the last-minute actions and some problems that had arisen
shortly before they left Saint Petersburg for Yakutsk.

I had an argument with Boris about the extra container of equipment that he wanted us to take and the
two extra scientists he was sending to conduct experiments. We had not agreed on these people, and the
extra equipment would add weight on snow crawler tractors with towed sledges, which could make our
progress difficult if we hit early warm weather. We now have much more baggage and personnel than
the original tractors and sledges can safely carry over the tundra expeditiously. I have stressed to him
and the others that our entire plan of travel is to move quickly over the tundra so that we can reach the
marshlands before they begin to thaw from the spring weather. If we are too heavy, we will travel more
slowly and may reach the marshes too late to cross this season. At the same time, every pound of extra
gear he wants to add means equipment that I need for my research must be left behind.
We seemed to be at an impasse when he volunteered to provide additional transport and staff to drive
an extra vehicle with a sledge to handle the additional equipment and the extra persons. It was cleared
by the government in record time, and so we are now down to the proper weight for each vehicle. We
are just a larger expedition than I had imagined.

Then further on was an entry dated April 3.

I was outraged today to find that two women scientists were being added to the roster for the
expedition. I asked Boris why they were suddenly added to our personnel list, and he said they were the
two extra scientists who would be doing botanical sampling. The same ones Boris and I had already
discussed.
I already provided that expertise by including my colleague Veruschka Ivanova, a biologist who would
oversee plant and animal collections. There was no need for two more people who would overlap with
Veruschka’s work.
At first I protested their inclusion, but on discussing it with Veruschka, she thought it would be helpful
in some ways, if they could coordinate their efforts. She also pointed out that it would be nice to have
more women on the trip since she had been the only female until now. She said that she would
appreciate female companionship, having traveled with only men on another expedition. I backed down
at that point.

My cell phone rang, and when I answered, the head bellman inquired when I
would be ready to move my things out of the hotel room. Today was the day I
was to move from the hotel into my apartment, and I had not yet packed my
clothing. We arranged for a man to pick up my bags in two hours. I
reluctantly tucked the journal away in my shoulder bag and set out to do
errands.
I trudged over to the Cyber Café in a light drizzle. I encountered Anya
and she set me up with a computer. She cut me some slack after her
embarrassing joke last night when she had inflicted her revenge on me. Now
that I had paid well for her services, she helped me willingly when I came up
with questions. She even walked with me to a shop and helped me buy a new
cell phone for use in Russia to avoid the damnable roaming charges that were
beginning to add up.
I printed out the documents on the thumb drive she had given me so I
could read them at my leisure. A quick glance indicated that what she had
found were not newspaper articles but a less heavily redacted version of the
report Godunov had given me. It was in Russian, so I would have to read it
later, when I could make more time to translate.
I sent several emails notifying friends at home in the Chicago area that I
would be in Russia most of the summer and arranged the usual extended
plant care and Elmhurst apartment check-ins they had helped with before.
Then I headed back to the hotel to pack.
***
At 5:00 p.m., I finished unpacking my possessions in the apartment and
settled in, planning to sleep in the master bedroom even though it had been
Randall’s. I removed all his things from the drawers and closet, replacing
them with my meager clothing pallet. I made a list of food and other items I
needed in order to live there for a few weeks and planned to make a shopping
trip the next day. All in all, the process of moving in seemed relatively
painless. The convenience of the hotel would be missed, but it was getting
expensive for me.
I settled into my uncle’s Queen Anne chair to read more of the journal,
Volume X. There was an entry on April 10 about an accident that occurred
while packing the equipment and supplies on pallets for transport to Yakutsk:

We suffered a major setback today when one of the loaded pallets fell from its
position in a stack onto André, our quartermaster, killing him outright. He was the
man I was relying on to counter Boris’s man Colonel Max Volkov, his head of
security. Volkov has been pushing to have more control over the transport
arrangements and supplies. André had been successful at keeping him under some
sort of control, but with his death, we have no choice but to let one of Volkov’s men
handle much of that work. I can’t find a replacement for André now on such short
notice.

A few other problems arose before they were able to travel to Yakutsk on
April 20. The transport vehicles had been shipped there by rail earlier, and an
advance team overseen by Volkov had begun loading supplies and prepping
the equipment for the journey. When Randall arrived in Yakutsk with the rest
of the staff, he was surprised they were back on schedule, even with the
changes that had been made.

Volkov is a good manager, and he has firm control over his security people. The only
problem I still have with him is that he thinks he is in charge of the overall
expedition, and I have to constantly remind him that I am director and he is head of
security forces and indirectly in charge of transport and logistics through his man
Balov. We had to have a meeting with Boris to put him in his place before we left
Petersburg, and things have run more smoothly since then. I think he still resents my
pulling rank on him but agreed to work as the official number two on this operation.
There is still considerable friction, and he makes decisions without discussing things
with me first. We’ll see how it goes.

Having read these entries about problems they encountered before they left
for Siberia, I wondered if these were the concerns my uncle alluded to in his
letter to me. I could kick myself for not finishing the letter because it had
been important to Randall. I should have finished reading it. Maybe there
were more incidents or other matters on his mind. Now I wouldn’t know
what it was all about until I returned to Elmhurst and read the photocopy. I
could only hope that his concerns had been addressed before they reached
Siberia.
There was loud knocking on my front door. I jumped up, hid the journal
under the seat cushion of my overstuffed chair, and strode to the entry. I
opened the door just as Yuri prepared to pound his presence again. I
immediately said, “Dobriy den’. Good afternoon. Yuri, Irina.”
Yuri handed me a heavy canvas bag, then stepped aside so Irina could
come forward to greet me with a hug as he ran down the stairs to the black
BMW rental car. “Grant, darling, how are you today? How did the moving
go?” She pushed past me into the hallway, and Yuri appeared with another
two bags of what looked like groceries. Before I could say anything, Irina
was directing him into the kitchen, where he and I deposited the shopping
bags on the central counter.
“Look, Grant, I brought you groceries and the basic supplies for your
apartment. That way you don’t have to walk to a shop, buy it all, and drag it
back here.” She turned to me expecting an appreciative smile, so I complied.
“Irina, you didn’t have to do this,” I said brightly. “I was ready to go out
for a few things later in the day, but this is so nice of you. It’s very
thoughtful.” I reached for her to show my appreciation, but she held me at
bay while she instructed Yuri to wait in the car. He muttered to himself as he
returned outside and slammed the front door loudly. Irina pressed into my
chest and gave me a marvelously wet kiss. She reminded me that we needed
to put away the food and travel to her uncle Boris’s house for dinner.
“Look,” she said, “I only brought the essentials. And I have to admit that
I could not bear the idea of actually shopping for these things, so I asked our
cook to give me the things that were absolutely necessary.”
She began to pull food and other supplies out of the bags and spread them
on the counter while I was powerless to protest. “So we pulled these items
from my uncle’s pantry and refrigerator for you, you lucky man.” Another
dazzling smile.
She removed a loaf of homemade dark rye bread, milk, eggs, a round of
cheese, a cabbage, a large butt of ham, two bottles of wine, one bottle of
vodka, cooking oil, and a dozen other “essentials” from the bags. “And
because you have only now moved in . . .” She dramatically held up a
package of toilet paper with a victorious smile. “You see? I have done well,
have I not?”
She ran over and threw herself into my arms. I couldn’t resist her
enthusiasm, and we reveled in the moment. I managed to sneak away from
Irina long enough to hide Volume X behind some books in the library before
we left the apartment. I would have to discover its secrets later.
 CHAPTER 8
May 7

We arrived early at the dinner party at Irina’s insistence, she being the newly
found, overwhelming force in my life. We arrived at the same time as another
couple, a man named Ivan Novitski, who was a banker of sorts as far as I
could tell, and his wife, Larisa. Boris met us at the front door and quickly
ushered us into the parlor where he offered drinks.
Because of the timing, I felt I could not confront Boris then and there
about what else he knew concerning the expedition. This might have been for
the best since he was very cordial and welcomed me into his home like a
prospective son-in-law, for what that was worth.
Irina rushed upstairs to put on an evening gown while I remained in the
parlor sipping an excellent whiskey old-fashioned. After a while, Boris pulled
me from the room into the hallway so we could speak privately.
I immediately asked him, “Why have you held information back from
me, Boris? I’m angry that you have not been honest with me. You should tell
me the truth.”
Boris looked me straight in the eye and replied, “The truth? I could not
tell you the truth until a few days ago when I learned what really happened to
the expedition. I wonder if you could handle the truth.” He now looked angry
and shifted his gaze to the polished oak floor.
“What are you hiding from me? What happened to Uncle Randall?”
“There are reasons why I have done what I have done. Tonight you will
learn some of that truth. But even I do not know the whole story.”
“What does that mean?”
“You will have to wait for the meeting after dinner, as will everyone else.
You will know as much as I in a short time.” He looked up as Ivan Novitski
came over to talk. “I must play the host now,” he said, “so please wait until
after dinner.”
Then he escorted us both back to the parlor, placing his hand on my
shoulder to introduce me to two other guests who had just arrived. They were
a couple from Saint Petersburg named Victor and Renata Romashin. He was
a biochemist and manager of the same company for which Irina worked,
Fascinations Boutique. Renata was a very pleasant woman who was dressed
elegantly, as if for the opera.
We all made friendly discourse until 7:50 p.m., when Irina made an
entrance that stopped conversation as everyone in the room admired her
stunning appearance in a black evening gown. She greeted the room with a
diplomatic smile then walked over to stand very properly next to me, so close
that I was unable to focus on the discussion. She smiled at me and managed
to press against me occasionally to let me know she was there. Then she
circulated around the room and spoke with everyone in the short time before
the dinner hour.
At 8:00 p.m., the doorbell rang, and a tall, dashing middle-aged man of
military bearing entered the parlor wearing a black suit and an authoritative
red tie, greeting everyone in the room quickly before we moved into the
dining room. He sported a well-trimmed mustache on a long bronze face,
having narrow-set eyes of Mediterranean blue and dark brown hair cut
military short. His chin projected confidence, and his muscular form spoke of
extensive physical training. He was very formal, shaking hands when
presented, kissing the ladies’ hands, and smiling reservedly. He came up to
me as if he knew me and introduced himself before Boris could do the
honors. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Taylor. My name is Colonel Max
Volkov.”
I was surprised beyond words. Apparently my expression displayed my
emotions, and he responded, “Oh? Have we met somewhere before, Doctor?”
“No, we have not met, but I have heard your name. I was not expecting to
see you here.” I tried to cover the fact that I knew who he was and that he had
been on the lost expedition. What in the world was he doing here? I thought
everyone from the expedition had been killed.
Then Boris called for us all to be seated.
The table was set for eight: the Romashins, the Novitskis, Colonel
Volkov, Boris, Irina, and myself. Boris and Irina sat at the ends of the table,
the couples alternately to either side, and the colonel and me diagonally
across from each other, perhaps by some design, as our seating cards
suggested.
 To initiate the meal, Boris stood at the end of the table and proposed a
toast with a glass of champagne. “To an enjoyable evening among good
friends and to future success.” He raised his glass, as did we all. He
continued, “Let us save our discussion and any pressing questions about the
expedition until after dinner, when we will have plenty of time for such
matters.” He looked around the table at each person individually and sipped
his champagne. His gaze seemed to dwell on my face longer than the others,
and he cast a meaningful nod of the head to Irina when he looked at her.
With Irina seated on my right, I was able to speak to her immediately. I
had many questions to ask her. As quietly as I could without whispering, I
asked, “Did you know about this meeting? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m so sorry, Grant. I knew there was to be a meeting here after dinner,
but I did not know what it would be about.” She looked very sincere, but she
had looked that way on previous occasions.
I asked, “Why did your uncle invite me here? You must have known
about it.” She seemed to understand that I was upset about being surprised,
and she reached for my hand beneath the table to show her support. On
feeling her grasp, I left my hand there but soon removed it.
The first-course salad arrived. We all took salad, and a plate of bread was
passed around the table. Irina directed our conversation to other topics. She
tried again to take my hand under the table. This time I accepted it.
After the first course ended, I turned to speak with Renata. The meal
proceeded smoothly with a second course of warm, heavy soup of a type that
was new to me. Renata was a delightful woman who held my attention with
her light dinner banter. As we spoke, I listened in on other conversations
when I could hear clearly. I detected no talk of the expedition, only pleasant
topics of the day.
For the third course, Boris sliced and served a wonderful beef roast,
accompanied by sauced potatoes and asparagus with a light lemon glaze
drizzled over it. A red wine made its appearance, and everyone seemed to be
enjoying themselves immensely. Conversation became lively as we discussed
the fortunes of the local ice hockey team, the SKA.
Then, instead of serving the tea course with dessert as I was accustomed
to, Boris announced that we would all break for the meeting and return to the
parlor for tea and dessert later. The women moved to the parlor while the
men sauntered into Boris’s library for the meeting. Now Ivan, Victor, Max,
Boris, and I were offered brandy or whiskey, and we waited for a moment.
I asked, “Do we begin now?”
Boris responded with a smile, “We must wait for Irina to join us in a few
moments. She is making the other women comfortable while we have our
meeting.” That caught me by surprise, but I held in any reaction as best I
could.
We discussed the troubled Russian economy until Irina opened the library
door and closed it behind her. She looked at Boris and said coolly, “Uncle
Boris, I don’t understand why you have waited until now to tell me what is
really going on. I don’t like this subterfuge that you are playing at.”
Boris swept over to Irina and held her to him. “My dear, I did not intend
to keep you in the dark so long. It was wrong of me, and I am sorry.” He
looked at me and said, “Grant, I am sorry for not telling you sooner too.”
Victor, Ivan, and Max were silent as they took their seats in the soft
chairs that were arranged in a semicircle in front of Boris’s desk. He stood
behind the desk as if this were a business meeting. We all took glasses of
brandy or Scotch in our hands. Ivan and Victor looked as if they would have
preferred to have a cigarette or cigar in their hands as well, but Boris upheld a
house rule against smoking indoors. All five of us anxiously watched Boris,
awaiting his lead, sipping our drinks.
“As most of you know,” he began, “last year’s expedition into Zona
began with the best of intentions. Everything proceeded well, even after the
bandits attacked the convoy and two people were killed. Because we had
planned in depth, we were able to continue the project even after that setback.
The convoy continued on course with complications, making it past the
tundra and the marsh areas. It entered Zona as planned but there encountered
additional unexpected problems. I will not say now what those problems
were, but I will say that there is unfinished business in Zona. I will turn the
discussion over now to Colonel Max Volkov.” He waved his hand at the
colonel to take the floor and sat at his desk.
Colonel Max Volkov stood and turned to scan each of us in order. “You
are all assembled members of an exclusive club. You do not all realize it yet,
but we all have something in common. We all had a stake in the expedition
that was lost last year. I staked my reputation on the success of the mission. I
was manager of security for the mission and admit now that I failed. I nearly
lost my life escaping from Zona when things went awry out there. I cannot
tell you what happened exactly, not at this time, although you will learn of it
soon enough.” He walked quietly to the sideboard and refilled his glass with
whiskey before continuing.
Boris commented, “We have decided to limit how much information each
person is told today for security purposes. In a time not too distant, you will
all know the whole story. If you knew what we now know, you would
understand why we cannot tell you these things.” Then he turned to Volkov.
“Please continue, Max.”
Volkov went on. “Ivan, you made a large financial investment in the
expedition, as you know, and you lost that investment as it stands. The same
is true for you, Victor, since you owned a sizable share in the risk, cost, and
potential proceeds from its results. Boris also had a good deal of money
riding on this venture, not to mention his reputation for helping to pave the
way for it with our government comrades. And so too did Irina here, even
though she did not know what was at stake.” Volkov finally turned to look
me in the face. “And you, my friend, Grant, were not aware that your uncle
indirectly included you in this mission, but he made you his legal heir and,
therefore, a party to the venture.” He smiled.
I sat there listening and absorbing every word. The last sentence escaped
over my head at first, and only when Volkov stopped to look at me did I see
what he was inferring. He seemed to imply that my uncle had not only risked
his life to carry out the expedition, but he had also invested some of his
wealth in it to ensure its success. When the mission failed, he not only lost
the investment but possibly his home and his reputation in the bargain. I did
not know these men, but they were implying that I was somehow responsible
for his risk, even though he was now dead. Could this be true? Could they
expect me to be responsible for Randall’s debts? Hadn’t the man given
enough?
“I don’t understand,” I blurted. “What investment are you talking about?
I thought the expedition was supported by the government.”
 Volkov looked at Boris as if to ask him to explain.
Boris responded, “How can I tell you this, since you are an outsider in
our country and are not familiar with the sometimes strange ways that events
happen here? When your uncle began to plan this expedition, his intent was
to carry out a scientific inquiry into the legends of unusual animal species in
Zona. I tried to help him with the permitting process as I have in the past, but
there were difficulties. We needed more financial resources to grease the
wheels, as you might say in America.” He scowled as he continued, “Bribes.
They are a terrible thing, but this country does not work without some form
of favor being done for people along the way. It is becoming worse each
year.” He looked as if he would spit on the floor.
“So you needed money to obtain the permits? How much?” I asked.
“To make a long story short, I will say tens of thousands of dollars. More
than we needed to provide in the past, but that is because this time we wanted
access to Zona. It is a dangerous place that little is known about, but that is
not to say that no one has been there. The last time anyone entered Zona was
during and after the Great Patriotic War, the one you Americans call World
War II. I will not tell you what happened then, but it is sufficient to say that
strange and unnatural things were encountered there. Men died. Only four
men came back alive and they were insane. But they produced some proof of
their tales. And the government has been afraid ever since. That is why it has
been so difficult to get permission to go there and why no one ever went back
there until last year.”
“I can tell you what I know about it later, Grant, if you like,” Irina said.
“But some here know far more about it than I.” She glanced over at Max
Volkov, and he looked back at her, wincing noticeably.
Volkov took the floor again, on his feet as if delivering a pretarget
briefing. “So the result of this dilemma was that we needed investors to back
us, to help with baksheesh and other functions that the government usually
provides. Because of the information we had about the historical experience,
we took certain precautions, like taking a strong security force with us. We
also needed special transport vehicles—modifications of some existing craft
used in the far north, but still expensive—and we needed extra transport by
air to certain areas which the military could provide normally but was
reluctant to do in this case. It became a large and complicated affair.”
Boris stood again to take the lead, but he suggested that everyone present
refill their glasses before continuing. I leaned in to speak to Irina as the last
person returned to his seat. “How much of this did you already know, Irina?
Did you know that this Zona was so dangerous?” I moved my face close to
hers so I could keep my voice down and also watch her face as she spoke. I
wasn’t sure I could trust her.
Ivan seemed distressed by what he had heard. “But, Boris, you still
haven’t told us exactly what happened. Why did the expedition founder, and
why do you keep promising to tell us what really happened to the people on
the mission but never do?” He raised his arms out from his sides, elbows bent
in a questioning gesture. “We know that they were all killed, except Max
here, of course, but you are always so vague. What really happened?”
Victor said bluntly, “I understand that you are bringing the younger
members of the group up to speed, but let’s get on to the real purpose of why
we are here, can we? Are we going to recover our losses or not?”
Boris took command of the situation, seeing the rising anxiety within the
group. He turned to look at me directly then at his niece. He smiled in a tight,
controlled manner. “I am going to jump ahead a bit now and will have to
come back to explain a few things to you two later. Perhaps I have been too
protective of you until now.”
He then scanned the faces in the room again and explained, “There have
been rumors from a few people, reindeer herders and others who have
traveled close to Zona, about large animals roaming in the area. We all have
heard these stories. The fact is that there is firm evidence that unusual
animals inhabit Zona. But no one has crossed Sheba Pass and returned to tell
what lies beyond. Even our intrepid Max has only made it as far as the pass,
and he just managed to return alive.” He looked appreciatively at Volkov.
Volkov nodded his head.
Boris continued, “So what you want to know is how well we are doing on
the recovery effort. Where has our additional investment gone? How do we
proceed with the continuation of the mission?” Everyone except me nodded
their heads, some impatiently. I was baffled by his statement. What recovery?
What mission?
 “Well, the good news is that the new expedition has already started. We
had to begin before the spring thaw set in, so the expedition staffers have
been moving equipment into position for weeks. They will proceed
northward on a strict schedule developed by Max, based on his experience in
that area. The final members on the expedition roster will be flown in to join
the convoy en route on the tundra, before it crosses the marshlands. It would
be too dangerous to fly even rotary aircraft beyond that point because of the
fog and other conditions.” Boris looked around at his guests. He saw happy
faces on at least two of those present, Victor and Ivan.
Ivan excitedly slipped into Russian for a moment. “Finally. This is a
celebration, then. We should toast to Max and to Boris for their superb
achievements.”
“Well, we have started. Let us hope that our efforts will be rewarded this
time,” Volkov said cautiously. “We do hope to make a profit, after all.”
“Here is to profits!” Ivan saluted Victor as they clinked their glasses
together in celebration. “I thought all was lost last year. But now I feel we
will find what we were after and make it pay.”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard and looked at Irina to see if I was
hallucinating. She stared back at me, shaking her head, and said, “I didn’t
know. I mean, I knew that there was talk last year of going back to recover
samples and data and to look for survivors but not that it had progressed so
far. I’m as surprised as you are.”
“Wait a minute.” I interrupted the conversation about profits. “What
profits? How can you make a profit on a scientific expedition to collect plant
and animal specimens?”
Boris looked at me and said, “I have to explain that to you and Irina later,
but now I would like to let these gentlemen get back to their wives. Can you
wait about an hour? Then you will have my complete attention, I promise
you.” He looked at us both to see our reaction.
Irina nodded her approval, but I raised my voice, saying, “I can’t wait.”
Irina took my arm. “Grant, be cautious and wait.” I shook my arm loose
from her grasp but let Boris continue.
He accepted that as permission to finish with his presentation to the
group.
 “Now, ladies and gentlemen, let Max Volkov fill you in on the details of
the new expedition as it is currently progressing.”
Volkov summarized how the convoy was organized. He said there were
twenty-four people, sixteen security personnel, and eight scientists currently
on the road north of Yakutsk and that he expected two more scientists to join
the convoy within a few days. He himself would fly out to join them
tomorrow, when he would take over command of the mission. They expected
to reach the edge of Zona within two weeks, ahead of the spring thaw. From
there they would cross the pass to the land beyond and begin scientific
studies according to a general plan with some flexibility built in for unknown
conditions.
Volkov was certainly on top of his game. He had an answer ready for
nearly every question that came up. And he anticipated the queries, face alert,
eyes active, like a wolf, his very namesake. In Russian, Volkov meant “wolf.”
Victor asked, “Max, what kind of unknown conditions?”
Volkov smiled for the first time of the evening and replied, “That is just
the point, Victor. They are unknown. But we have planned for situations such
as we can find no drinking water, we encounter large animals, or we have
vehicle breakdown problems. Any of these things might happen, but we don’t
even know what lies beyond the pass yet. Therefore, we have contingencies.”
Irina asked calmly, “I have heard of possible problems with wolf packs,
but what other large animals are there? Are there bears?”
Volkov looked uneasy. “Let’s just say there are also large mountain lions
and possibly other creatures that we do not now know much about. Again a
contingency and the reason why we have so many well-trained security
people on the roster and large-caliber weapons in reserve.” He looked at
Boris to see if he had more to add.
“We will discuss that later too, if you wish.” Boris looked uncomfortable.
“Let us see to our guests.”
Everyone in the room was on their feet by now, either toasting the
success of the mission so far or asking Boris or Volkov questions about the
expedition. Irina and I stood to one side and talked quietly about the new
information we had gained, unsure what to make of it all. Boris announced
that the meeting was over and led the parties back to the parlor to rejoin the
wives, who were carrying on quite well without us. It became clear that they
were not aware of the details of the mission or the other problems that beset
their husbands.
Tea and dessert cakes were served, and the tension of the meeting
dissipated. The conversation turned to the current state of the government
then moved to other less depressing topics. After a few more drinks, the
Novitskis and Romashins left, thanking Boris for a wonderful dinner and
pleasant time. Ivan winked at Boris as he shook his hand, and Victor was
happily drunk as his wife directed their driver to take them home.
Boris called Volkov aside for a minute after the others had left. I asked
myself, What could be so sensitive that the two investors could not hear it?
 CHAPTER 9
May 7

Irina, Boris, Volkov, and I reconvened in Boris’s well-ventilated sunroom.

He dismissed the servants after we were all resupplied with liquor and cigars
had been produced, allowed in this room only. Even I partook of that vice, a
habit I had acquired from my uncle years ago.
Irina asked the first question: “So what was the expedition really doing
last year, Uncle? I understood from Victor that our company was subsidizing
part of the trip with hopes of collecting a few samples of exotic plants that
might grow in Zona. Why so much mystery about what happened?”
“You are correct, Irina. We set up the mission to collect samples of any
plants that might have chemical properties of interest to Victor’s company,
Fascinations Boutique. We needed to keep the company’s involvement
secret, or every government official who heard of our mission would have
wanted a favor. As it is, we spent too much on that sort of thing. And there is
always the impression that any time a privately owned company is involved,
the old comrades rally against the capitalists. We needed to be careful.” Boris
sipped his single malt and asked Volkov to discuss the animal dangers.
Volkov took a deep draw on his cigar and spoke quietly. “What I am
going to tell you must be kept under the strictest confidence. Do you
understand? That is why your uncle and I have never spoken freely about the
animals in Zona. You must promise to never talk of these things to anyone on
earth. You must swear.” He stared at Irina and me very deliberately as Boris
brought over the family Bible.
Irina protested at the sight of the Bible, “Really, Uncle Boris, this is too
much.” Then she admonished him in Russian about being too melodramatic.
“My dear Irina. This is the most important thing we will ever do in our
lives. Please humor me.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. Finally, realizing that he wouldn’t back
down from his request, Irina and I both swore to secrecy on the Bible and
pain of punishment, which was proclaimed in Russian, so I wasn’t sure that
death was not included.
 “There are animals living in the foggy marshlands and in the misty
lowlands south of Zona that have not been seen by man for thousands of
years,” Volkov continued. “Some are ancient forms of creatures that walked
the earth during the last Ice Age, and some, we think, have not even been
found in the fossil record. I have personally seen a type of mountain lion that
is three times as large as any reported in Siberia. I have observed what looked
like American buffalo in the same area traveling in a small band. There are
herbivores that occur in southern regions but which are much larger near
Zona: deer, elk, a type of horse like the Przewalski’s horse but larger.”
Irina laughed. “Oh, Max, you are joking with us. You are treating us like
little children. And after that great show of secrecy, it is too much.” She
looked at Boris with some distaste and jumped to her feet to confront Volkov.
“You cannot do this to us. We deserve to know the truth about the expedition.
Grant deserves the truth. Stop these games, you two. Now!” She delivered
one of her emerald glares at her uncle. The games were over.
“But, Irina, he is telling the truth.” Boris turned to Volkov. “The photos.”
Volkov nodded and got up from his chair to retrieve a digital tablet from
his briefcase. He took a moment to find a file with photos that he displayed
on the screen. Then he handed the tablet to Irina, who shared it with me.
On the screen we saw several photos, all apparently shot in low light,
perhaps at dawn or in the evening, all through misty weather. The first
several photos showed wolves in small groups running or standing at some
distance, making it hard to judge their sizes. One photo of a wolf standing
next to one of the snow crawler machines caught my attention because it
seemed huge by comparison.
I asked, “Are these wolves really so large? This one looks to be about
five feet high at the shoulder.”
Volkov answered, “Yes, that male was just over five feet tall, and we
estimate he weighed about seven hundred pounds, about five times what a
typical wolf weighs. I shot this photo on our way north toward Zona.”
We looked at more photos and saw deer and other common animals that
were larger than normal. Then we saw a striped brown mountain lion with
huge canine teeth and were told by Volkov that it was about three times the
size of a normal lion, perhaps larger. One massive animal was silhouetted
against a misty background in the fog.
“This looks like an elephant,” I said. “What was it? A buffalo? There
aren’t any buffaloes in Siberia.”
“The only explanation we could find was that it was an elephant. One of
our team thought it could be a relative of a mammoth, but of course, that
must be impossible, yes?” Volkov tried not to force us to say yes but left the
thought in the air.
When we had reviewed all the photos, Boris repeated, “You see there are
unusually large animals in the area south of Zona, but what lies within its vast
expanse? We have no idea yet. And I should note that there were unique plant
species present too, but the samples were all lost.”
After we took a break to refill our glasses, Volkov spoke again. “Now we
must deal with the obvious question: What happened to the expedition? I will
tell you.” He looked at Boris for permission to proceed. Boris nodded.
“I was the only survivor of the mission, as far as I know. As you know,
we were attacked by bandits out on the tundra, which is not so unusual in
these current times. We crossed the tundra and were traversing the
marshlands when we were attacked by a wolf pack that killed two more of
our people, including one botanist this time.” Volkov looked at me and
expressed sympathy with his eyes. Something I had not observed in him
before. “Then, on the far side of the marshes, we were hit again by an even
larger pack of maybe twenty wolves. Three more people were killed and
three seriously injured.” He stopped and swallowed a large amount of
whisky.
“What did you do? How could you go on after that?” I asked
incredulously.
“We had no choice, I’m afraid. By that time we were so far north that we
could not turn back. The tundra was thawing, and the marshes were rising
with meltwater. Our retreat was cut off. We licked our wounds and pressed
on to reach the pass and wait for cold weather to allow southern passage
again when the ground refroze in October.” He looked around at our faces. “I
wanted to retreat at that point, but we simply could not do it, and we most
certainly could not stay in the exposed position we were in. And so we
continued north.”
 Volkov looked excessively grim at this point, and I wasn’t sure he would
go on. It looked as though the memories of what had happened were too
painful for him. He seemed to have taken the loss of each member of the
mission personally.
“For two nights we held camp at the far side of the marsh in order to let
the doctor treat the wounded. For two nights we fought off wolf attacks,
losing two more people, and one of the wounded. Their graves were soft and
wet, small markers all that we could spare to mark their passing.” Tears
appeared in his eyes.
“But we proceeded on. Three days later, we saw before us the
mountainous ridge that surrounds central Zona. We pushed onward toward
Sheba Pass. It was the farthest north that anyone had ever been since the
war.” Volkov acted like he could see the pass right in front of him. He looked
up as if that far-off gap in the ring of mountains was projected onto the wall
of the room. At that moment I wondered if the experience had driven him
half-mad.
“Randall insisted that we keep moving to reach the pass as soon as
possible. He obtained the best knowledge of the history of Zona and
remembered that there was a cave entrance on one side of the pass. It could
be a place for us to build a camp safe from the wolves. So we rushed ahead
and reached our destination the next night. We thought we were safe.” He
looked at each of us now with a surprised look on his face. “It was difficult
going, but we found the entrance to the cave and used it to make a secure
camp. The wolves did not follow us up there anyway. We were surprised by
that.”
“Then what happened? Were you safe in the cave?” Irina was engrossed
in the story.
Volkov poured another large whisky, and I realized he was now quite
drunk, slurring his words and looking despondent. But he drew himself
together for one last try to explain what had happened. “We were nicely
tucked into the cave with the entry blocked by a vehicle. I posted three people
to guard the entrance. We collapsed into sleep and then . . .” He stopped for a
moment.
“We had no idea that we were not safe there. It happened in the night.
Something attacked us, something big, a lion so large that it could tear out the
sides of the aluminum storage containers with its claws. It came from inside
the cave, tearing into each person as they lay sleeping in their sleeping bags.
Some escaped. Some were killed in the initial attack. The guards fought
bravely, but the lion overwhelmed them. Their bullets only seemed to anger
the beast. I saw Randall, Veruschka, and one other run out the entrance as I
unloaded my rifle into the creature. But everyone else was killed.”
Volkov began to cry openly and could not continue. He left the room.
Boris took over the story. “He has had a rough time of it. I think it will
eventually drive him mad. For some reason the animal suddenly stopped its
attack and vanished into the depths of the cave. Max survived with a heavy
slash on his arm but was able to bandage himself up and carry on. He is built
that way, and his training will not let him say die. The next morning he
buried the dead but could not find Randall’s body nor those of two other
scientists. He searched for them for two days without success. He assumed
they were eaten.”
“Eaten? Oh my God.” Irina gasped and leaped from her chair.
I could not believe what I had just heard. Eaten? By a mountain lion?
“He secured the supplies in the event your uncle and the others came
back to the cave, just in case they somehow miraculously survived. Then he
loaded up a snow crawler and a sledge with supplies and began to travel
south alone. He tried to bring back some personal items that belonged to the
deceased staff for their relatives, but he lost most of them when he was
attacked in the marshlands later on. He used a small sampling boat to cross
the marshes and wet tundra. Just when he had run out of all supplies and fuel,
he was found near death by a reindeer herder who happened upon him.”
Boris teared up, as did I. He continued, “The man is as tough as they
come, and now he wants to lead this mission back there to search for your
uncle in spite of all that has happened.”
Boris stopped speaking and stared at the top of his desk as if he too had
barely survived the disaster. Irina and I glanced at each other, and she
reached for my hand. “It is just awful,” she said.
Then Boris raised his head and whispered hoarsely, “The only way we
could afford to launch a rescue mission was if we gained financial backing
again. I managed to convince Victor and Ivan that they must double down in
their support of a new expedition, one even better prepared than the last.
Visions of profits and recovery of their earlier losses brought them on board
for one last effort.”
“It sounds like suicide,” I burst out. “And where is Uncle Randall? What
happened to him?”
Irina saw the grave expression on her uncle’s face. “Uncle Boris, what
can we do to help?”
I looked at her, searching for what she meant. Is she crazy?
“My dear Irina,” Boris said, standing up. “The principal biochemist who
was to go on the mission was suddenly taken ill with meningitis and must
withdraw. Without a chemist we cannot achieve scientific success. It is that
simple.”
Irina straightened up and looked both surprised and curious. “What will
you do? Who can you find to go on such short notice?”
“No one is available,” Boris said. “That’s the problem.”
Boris looked ill himself, his face now gray and immensely sad. “Your
parents would hate me for what I am about to ask of you, my dear, but I have
no other option.” He paused and sipped the last of his drink. “I know it is too
much to ask after you have heard what we have said here today. But I must.”
He paused. “Will you . . . Would you fill that role?”
“But have you tried at the university? There must be someone,” she said.
“No, Irina. I have found no one else. I’m sorry.” Boris looked at the top
of his desk again. He sat.
Irina seemed troubled. “But I can’t go. I have work to do at the lab and at
the office. I couldn’t just drop it all and leave.” She stared at her uncle. “I’d
have to study the research plan and learn about the instruments we would
have with us. It can’t be done overnight.”
Boris looked up and said, “I can find someone to complete your work at
the office.” He looked a little hopeful. “And Victor says he can reassign your
work until you come back.”
“But, Uncle Boris, it’s so sudden.” She looked at her uncle, and his
desperation was obvious. “Well, if you have no other choice . . .”
She pulled her hand away from me, stood, hesitated, and walked around
the desk to her uncle’s side. She stood next to him and laid her hand on his
shoulder. “Uncle, after everything you have done for me in my life, how
could I refuse?”
Boris raised his head as if he had not heard her correctly, looked at her
face, then buried his face into her side as they hugged, her standing and him
sitting. Both started to cry. They remained like that for an entire minute,
silent and serene. Then he said, “Thank you, my child. You have saved this
old man.”
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Irina had agreed to go on what
amounted to a death march to Zona, whatever that was. I didn’t say a word at
first. It was too overwhelming.
A few minutes passed before I spoke. “But I thought this was a rescue
mission. Based on what Max said, my uncle might still be alive out there.
Maybe he survived, even though that would be a miracle. What about him?” I
was on my feet shouting at the two of them.
Boris suddenly stiffened, sat up straight, and pushed Irina aside. “You are
right, young man. I have not forgotten my dear friend Randall. You see, the
two people who are to fly up to meet the convoy en route on the edge of the
marshlands are the missing biochemist, now Irina, and myself. I am going as
the leader of the group tasked to find your uncle. I have been planning it for a
long time.”
Irina took her uncle by the arm and pulled him closer to her. “But, Uncle
Boris, you cannot make such a trip, not with your heart condition. You would
not survive it.” She shook him as she spoke. “No, you cannot do it. It would
be suicide. No, do not go. I beg you.” Then she stepped back. “Why didn’t
you tell me what you were planning? You should have let me know.”
Boris tried to explain, but he suddenly grimaced and his face turned
white. He fell forward across the desk, clutching his chest, unable to speak,
eyes wild.
“He’s having a heart attack,” I said and leaped forward to catch him,
helping Irina lower him onto the floor.
As he lay there, he croaked, “But I must go. I must go. I owe it to
Randall.”
Irina tried to help him. She pleaded for him to be all right. I ran out of the
room and raised the alarm. Volkov suddenly appeared at the door and, seeing
what was happening, summoned a servant to fetch one of the neighbors in the
apartment house, who was a doctor.
Irina rushed into the study and dug in Boris’s desk for nitroglycerin pills.
She gave him two immediately. He seemed to recover slightly but was still in
agony. The doctor arrived and took over, telling us all to wait in the other
room. Irina would not leave, but I took her arm and eased her out of the room
as the doctor got to work. She was weeping and shrieking at the same time.
“No, not Uncle Boris too. I have lost everyone.”
A half hour later, after an ambulance came and took Boris, now stable, to
a private clinic for care, Max, Irina, and I stood quietly in the parlor, sipping
hot coffee. Irina stopped crying, and I placed an arm around her for support
as we anxiously waited for news.
Volkov said, “This may kill the mission. We needed Boris in order to
find Randall. He was to be in charge of search and rescue. He is the only one
who knew Randall well enough to predict how he would respond if he was
still alive. We need him to be the first friendly face that Randall sees so he
will know we are there to help him. Randall may be crazy, you know, if he
has lived in the wild so long. That is, if he is still alive at all.” He shook his
head.
“What will happen now?” I asked. “If Boris is ill or even worse, what
will the others do? The investors?”
Volkov stared at the wall and said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know. We
could still go, but we would be down a man from the start. I suppose we
could manage, but the whole point was that Boris would be there to make
sure we did everything we could do to find Randall. Now I am not sure.” He
looked at Irina and me in that order. “Where could we find someone who
could fill that role now, so late in the game? Who would be so crazy that they
would drop everything and go on a ‘suicide mission,’ like you called it,
Grant?”
I thought about Randall, my crazy, adventurous uncle who had played
such an important role in my life. I put myself in his shoes and wondered
what he would do. He would probably just say, “I’ll do it,” without much
thought. It was the right thing to do, and he would make it work somehow.
After all, a man must do what a man must do.
I sat in silence as we all retreated into our own personal spaces to
consider this impending disaster. After all the years I had heard of Uncle
Randall’s adventures, I had not once participated. I wondered if by not going
all those times I had let him down.
I wondered what would happen if they could not find a replacement for
Boris, who obviously could not make the harsh journey. No one else would
be able to understand what Randall might have done under those unique
circumstances that occurred last year, except, of course, me. That stopped me
in my proverbial mental tracks. Me? Could I do anything to help find my
uncle? Could I take Boris’s place and lead the search?
I glanced at Volkov, who was staring off into some invisible distance.
Then I looked at Irina, now so resigned to try to make the expedition a
success at great risk. Could I go and make a difference? Help find Randall?
At least to learn his fate? If I didn’t go, would I let those people down?
Would I let Uncle Randall down?
I raised my head and caught Volkov’s eye. “I’ll do it.” I could hardly
believe what I said. I turned to Irina. “I’ll go.”
PART II
 CHAPTER 10
Taiga Forest Northeast of Yakutsk, Siberia
May 12

The Kamov Ka-60 helicopter, the updated civilian version of the military
Mi-8 reconnaissance helicopter, was so loud inside that Irina and I could
communicate only through our headsets as we thundered along the edge of
the Momsky Mountains in eastern Siberia at over 150 miles per hour. As it
was, we were afraid to say anything on the channel that the aircraft crew
could listen in on. The pilots were flying carefully because of the fog below
and the low cloud cover, relying on the GLONASS satellite locational
system. GLONASS was the Russian version of GPS, and it worked better in
some parts of Russia. In any case, this close to the ground, we needed all the
navigational aids we could get.
Irina and I had landed in Yakutsk the previous morning and flown by a
small propeller-driven commercial flight to the mining town of Zyryanka, a
harrowing flight through a late-season snowstorm. We had spent the night in
a small hotel with limited heat then reported for this helicopter ride to meet
the convoy en route toward Zona. The convoy had held up for us to join
them, using the downtime for repairs and resupply.
We carried several crates on board our overloaded craft, as we bulleted
along at breakneck speed into the gloom of fog with on-and-off sleet and
snow. The pilots argued over the com system whether they should just set
down and dump us on the ground where we were. They were getting worried
about the craft icing up too much to fly.
I looked over at Irina, seated on a jump seat across from me, holding her
arms to her sides to keep warm in the drafty cargo bay with her down hood
up over her head, wearing a wool cap, mittens, and warm lined winter boots.
I was similarly dressed for the cold weather. We occasionally looked at each
other or at the frozen taiga landscape that was fleeting by below us.
Irina’s driver and bodyguard, Yuri, accompanied us on a jump seat near
the back of the cargo bay, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He had been
added to the expedition roster on Boris’s orders even though he had not
originally planned to be here at all. He was to be Irina’s personal bodyguard,
to protect her from wild animals and any human dangers. Yuri had the perfect
background for this role because he had been in the military and had already
served on bodyguard duty for Irina for several months in Saint Petersburg.
The difference now was that he did not have to conceal his weapons during
this operation.
We had been in the air for about an hour so far, which gave us plenty of
time to reflect on recent events. The last four days in Saint Petersburg had
been busy and eventful. We accomplished a great deal in that time,
considering the sudden change in plans for both Irina and me.
Boris’s heart attack had nearly scuttled the expedition before it was fully
staffed. He had stabilized enough the next day that he could answer questions
about how to carry out the mission even though he was in pain and was easily
exhausted. Volkov delayed his flight to Yakutsk by one day to help us get
ready for the trip, taking the bull by the horns to make sure everything went
off without a hitch. Since Irina and I were replacements for the biochemist
and Boris, everything was already prepared for us except for some clothing
changes and other minor details. We were left to clear our schedules and
purchase any personal items we would need for the trip, but otherwise we
were just substitutes in a well-planned venture.
The night that Boris had his attack, I had taken a taxi home and couldn’t
sleep at all, trying to digest everything we had heard that night. I had to force
the new information to make sense, though I still felt like I didn’t know what
had really happened and what lay ahead.
Rather than spending the night in turmoil, I had done something to clear
my head. I had set about translating the official report on the FSB’s
investigation into the lost expedition, or at least the portions that were
unredacted in the version that Anya had discovered for me. The investigating
team had found the place where the expedition was raided by bandits and the
first place where it was beset by wolves.
The FSB’s version of events confirmed Volkov’s story fairly well. The
investigators had found five graves where he said they would be at the site of
the bandit attack. They had also found evidence of the first wolf attack in the
marshlands, the resulting two graves, and the charred remains of a dead wolf
of unbelievable size. The graves had been unearthed by animals, and the
bodies once contained within them had been eaten. All that was left to prove
that humans had been buried there were a few bones that had sustained
gnawing marks by sharp teeth. The fact that even the dead were not safe in
this area might have contributed to the investigators’ decision to proceed no
farther north.
It was in the marshlands that the investigators had recovered the
container Volkov had brought back with him when he was found by a
reindeer herder. That was also how the FSB, and later Godunov, had
recovered Uncle Randall’s Volume X, which Godunov had given me before
he died.
They traveled no farther into the marsh and never made it to the so-called
Sheba Pass to see what had transpired there. By that time of the year, the
weather had been changing rapidly as snow began to fall, and they were not
prepared to venture farther.
But the FSB had interviewed Volkov when he returned and found
discrepancies between what he said then and what had been proposed at the
beginning of the expedition. For one thing, the total number and makeup of
the personnel in the party were significantly different. This was a point of
concern for the local police, who had started their own investigation into the
missing party, and the Special Operations Gruppa when they interceded. The
bullet wounds in the wolf carcass were of a larger caliber than any listed in
the manifest for the convoy. It was highly irregular. There was concern about
what the scientists were really doing out there, but at some point the
investigators had received orders to wrap up their work and produce a report.
I read the report twice and felt that many facts were missing, covered
over by heavy black redaction marker. I was frustrated because I had to learn
more. I was convinced that there was a cover-up of some sort that shut down
the investigation before it uncovered too much.
The day after the meeting at Boris’s home, I had met with Irina and
Volkov to get organized for the trip. That had taken half the day, and Volkov
briefed us on how we would travel. He also gave us an information packet
about the personnel on the expedition.
There were many other things I had to do to prepare for my summer
absence, like contacting my colleagues back in Illinois to let them know I
would be gone even longer than originally planned. I also opened a safe-
deposit box at a reputable Saint Petersburg bank and placed Randall’s cash in
it for safekeeping. Volume X went in the deposit box after I made a
photocopy to take with me on the expedition.
Because of Randall’s warning about not trusting even our friends, I felt
the need to protect the journal. I wasn’t sure at this point whether it was
prudent to even tell Irina or Volkov about its existence. In any case, I took the
photocopy with me on the expedition so I could read Randall’s version of
what had really happened to him and his party. Perhaps its contents would
tell me why Boris and Irina seemed to be withholding information from me.
Could I trust them?
I suspected that Randall’s request in his letter to keep the apartment was
because he had more stuff hidden in it. Hidden money might have been his
hedge if the expedition failed. I took the Makarov pistol and ammo with me
on the expedition, hidden in my luggage. An extra level of protection might
be advisable where we were going.
The helicopter suddenly flared to decelerate quickly. I looked up and
realized we had flown into complete fog. The pilots could take us no farther.
They set the craft down on what turned out to be a clearing in the small taiga
forest. They radioed ahead to let the convoy know we were close by, then
stopped the rotor and slowed the turbines to wait, careful not to shut them
down completely in the icy conditions for fear they wouldn’t restart properly.
Yuri slipped past the cargo to go forward and talk to the crew as we waited.
Soon, two snow crawlers approached through the fog, pulling sledges
along on the frozen, snow-laden surface of the ground. Three armed men
approached the helicopter and talked to the pilots. Shortly after, several men
transferred the cargo onto the sledges, and we crawled out of the whirring
craft and into the warm cabin of one of the crawlers. As soon as we were all
clear, the pilots lifted off, made a slow orbit, and thundered off to return to
the Zyryanka airport.
The snow crawlers were powerful tractors mounted on wide tracks
designed to distribute weight over a large area. They looked like modified,
awkward snowcats used to groom the slopes at ski areas in Europe and
America. Our crawlers were modified with large boxlike cabins above the
tracks to carry a crew and equipment. They operated as enclosed tractors
pulling enclosed sledges on skids behind them. The enclosures on each
sledge looked like smaller versions of sea containers with external fittings
that allowed extra cargo to be strapped onto them if necessary. The cargo
from the helicopter was stored in the enclosures on the two sledges.
When the cargo was secure, we started off through the thin forest of small
trees that made up the taiga landscape we had traversed. The land was
generally flat, with a few small hills scattered throughout the forest. Small
frozen lakes were present, solid enough for us to drive directly over their
surfaces without cracking through.
Within a half hour, we emerged from the trees onto a frozen bog where
the rest of the convoy was parked for the night. The supplies we had brought
with us from the helicopter were unloaded and distributed with military
precision. Men were involved in closing the electric fence that had been
opened to let us inside the defensive perimeter of the camp.
Irina and I looked at each other, and I said, “We’re in Indian country
now.” She beamed when she got the inference.
The camp was arranged in an approximate square, with the snow crawlers
and sledges positioned to form barriers just inside the electric perimeter fence
and a series of motion detectors. Four sets of klieg lights were mounted on
poles with their lights directed outward around the boundary. The camp
boundary was patrolled by three armed men who were stationed at intervals
in defensive positions. A generator, surrounded by fuel tanks and a backup
generator, was off to one side, already humming away to supply the camp
and fence with electricity. Two of the crawlers were equipped with machine
guns mounted on top of their cabs. The weapons looked heavy duty.
Within the center of the camp were three sledges carrying reinforced
housing units that served as working offices or shops, a meeting room, toilet
facilities, and sleeping quarters. This was an improvement over the tents used
on the first expedition. We learned that this was the camp configuration that
would be used for the camp for upcoming days and nights.
Colonel Max Volkov emerged from one of the central units and marched
up to us as we gawked at the camp. “Welcome to Zona Expedition II, my
friends,” he called out. We shook hands as he pointed to one of the machine
guns mounted on a crawler. “These will be very useful if we have to fight off
a wolf pack. They fire tracer rounds every tenth round and have mercury-
tipped rounds every fifth round. We will have better luck with them this
time.”
Irina nervously commented, “This seems like overkill for an expedition,
Max.”
Max acted as if he had anticipated this comment. “Yes, it is probably
more of a defensive posture than we need in this area, I agree. But as we go
closer to the edge of Zona, we will encounter unusual animals, most notably
the wolf packs. I wanted our staff to get used to the camp layout we will need
then so that it’s second nature to them when it counts.”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “But you think we’ll need all of this when we
encounter wolves?”
“Exactly.” He then pointed out some features of the camp he found
important. “We have motion detectors and a high-voltage electric fence now
that we did not have last year. I hope that with these devices we will detect
the wolves before they can attack, and with the klieg lights we will see them
on overcast nights as well.”
“So early detection will help with our defense. Is that it?” I was curious
how well the sensors and fence worked. “How about the fence? Can it stop a
wolf the size you found last time?”
“Oh yes. In fact, this model fencing has been used in large animal parks
in Africa to defend temporary camps in the bush. It is very effective.”
“And the machine guns? Are they really necessary?” I made a face as I
said this, thinking that the man just liked big toys.
Volkov must have sensed my derogatory tone because he made a sharp
response: “You won’t be so critical once you see the wolves attack.” He
pointed at the guns mounted on the crawlers. “Last year we only brought
twelve 7.62mm Kalashnikov AK-47 rifles; two larger caliber elephant rifles;
and six 12-gauge, or .70-caliber, shotguns. We found the 7.62 rounds had
little effect on the wolves. Only direct slugs from the shotguns at close range
even slowed them down. The elephant rifles were effective, but we were
unable to return fire fast enough to stop an attack.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure I believed him.
 “The mounted guns there”—he pointed to the crawlers—“are 12.7
millimeter, like the fifty-caliber guns your American military uses. Much
better stopping power than the AKs, and they are rapid fire.”
He led us on a short tour of the camp and its facilities. Everything was
carefully thought out and organized in the extreme. We walked into the
meeting room module of the camp where people began to assemble for a
short briefing. Volkov had us sit on folding chairs, and the whole experience
reminded me of a geology field camp I had attended twelve years before in
Montana. I had good memories of that expedition. I hoped I would have
happy memories from this camp as well.
Volkov called the meeting to order at 7:00 p.m. and introduced the entire
staff except the three guards who were on duty. The expedition was staffed
by twelve security guards, excluding Yuri; Volkov; and ten scientists,
including Irina and me. The head of the security team was Igor, a man who
had worked with Volkov and Randall on a similar expedition three years
before.
There were also four drivers who would leave us at the edge of the
swamp and drive one vehicle back to civilization after delivering a couple of
eight-feet-by-eight-feet-by-twenty-feet-long emergency storage units. The
storage units were shaped like standard sea containers but made of aluminum
to reduce their weight. They contained survival gear in case something went
drastically wrong and we needed to evacuate under duress, as Volkov put it. I
remembered his narrow escape from Zona last time and could not blame him
for the extra precaution.
“We will travel north for the next two days across the taiga small-tree
biome and continue onto the tundra. As you can all see, the spring melt is
coming on us quickly, faster than last year, and so we have to make steady
progress each day. We will have long summer days for this, and so we should
be able to cover at least twenty-five miles each day. We begin tomorrow at
dawn, which now comes at about four a.m. I will need each of you to get
started promptly so that we can eat and have everything packed on sledges by
five a.m.” Volkov scanned the room for hands, expecting questions.
“Sir,” said Igor, the number one on the security team, “we may need
more time to disassemble the fencing than we originally planned. It’s because
of the ground anchors, sir. We are using more of them than we anticipated.”
“Okay, that is good to know.” Volkov made a note. “We expect a few
delays the first few days as we get used to camp setup and takedown. But I
expect that we will have any problems under control within the first three
days.” He looked at Igor. “Is that understood?”
One of the botanists, Kira Orlova, asked, “Will we have the same camp
layout each night, Colonel? I need to know in order to set up my field
station.”
Volkov looked surprised by her question. “Yes, we will have the same
basic camp configuration each night while we are traveling north. You will
not need to set up a field station until we get across the marshlands. We will
be on the move until then, and there will not be time to set up anything
besides the standard camp materials.”
“But some of us would like to collect samples as we move, sir. Isn’t that
possible?”
“Oh, I see.” Volkov nodded. “Yes, there is much of interest as we drive
along. Let me talk to Igor about that, and we will try to accommodate you.
Perhaps one or two of you could take one of the small snow scooters out to
sample as the convoy progresses. We will see.” He tried to sound hopeful
even though he did not think it was wise to have anyone outside the
protection of the moving column of vehicles.
“Now I want to remind you about what I told you all to expect as we
travel, especially regarding the dangers we will face. You were all briefed
about last year’s encounters with large wolves and the big mountain lions.”
He paused to look around the room. “I want to reassure you that we are much
better prepared for any such attacks. And you have all received training about
the tasks you must perform to keep everything in camp operating smoothly.
Now, are there any more questions?” There were a number of additional
questions before the meeting broke up.
Then we ate dinner and had an hour or so before we needed to turn in for
the night. Irina and I found our individual bunk areas. I was roomed in the
rear of a large snow crawler, numbered T3, with Dr. Vladimir Dubinin, the
lead scientist, and Dr. Mikhail Petrowski, the expedition medical doctor. I
found them both affable men, experienced in expedition travel and, therefore,
flexible in their expectations.
Dubinin was a loud bear of a man with a full black beard, thinning hair,
and a ready laugh as he listened to my attempts at the Russian language. He
was a biochemist and was in charge of sampling and collection efforts of any
animal or plant species determined to be new and of chemical interest. Irina
would help with this, but she would primarily be in charge of the laboratory
testing of any samples that were collected and required chemical
interpretation.
Dr. Petrowski, a jovial, potbellied man with a constant smile on his face,
had studied at Moscow State University for his medical degree. He had
worked previously in the capital and several other cities in the Soviet Union.
He had also served years ago on an extended station in Antarctica and other
interesting travels. We would get on well, I was sure.
Igor slept in crawler T1, which had one of the machine guns on it. That
meant that Yuri and Volkov slept one each in the cab of a snow crawler, with
Yuri in T4 and Volkov sleeping in the cab of T2, which also served as his
office and the backup communications center. The other five male guards
were housed in the office unit. There would always be three guards on duty
so conditions were not overly crowded.
The female guards on the trip were distributed two per vehicle in tractors
T6 and T7, placing Olga in T7 with the machine gun in case of an
emergency. Women guards would be on duty as part of the usual rotation for
security. The six women scientists and Irina were in the third unit with the
kitchen facilities.
The four temporary drivers were crammed into the cab of the crawler
they would drive back to Zyryanka.
I had hoped to be able to read ahead in my uncle’s journal in the evening
but was not able to find a private space to do so with my new roommates
around. Instead, I focused on reading the personnel roster we were each given
so we could begin to familiarize ourselves with the other teammates. I also
made a sketch of our camp.
I wondered if the other members of the expedition had any inkling of
what we were entering into on this trip. I certainly did not.
 Personnel listing for Zona Expedition II
Commander:
Colonel Max Volkov
Security Team Guards:
Igor, No. 1
Ivan, No. 2
Olga, No. 3
Sergei
Maxim
Mikhail
Pavel
Nina
Regina
Victor
Tamara
Andre
Yuri Alekandrov, special security for Irina Ustinov and other scientists
Scientific Staff:
Dr. Mikhail Petrowski, MD, chief medical officer
Dr. Vladimir Dubinin, chief scientist, biochemist
Irina Ustinova, second chief scientist, biochemist
Dr. Grant Taylor, investigator of missing persons, paleogeographer
Valeriya Bogdanova, psychologist
Diana Kozlova, botanist, collector
Kira Orlova, botanist, collector
Lada Pavlova, zoologist—large animals
Marta Pankin, zoologist—small animals
Yana Popova, plant taxonomist
Shuttle Drivers:
Four men, names to be added en route
 CHAPTER 11
The Taiga Forest
May 13

The next day was extremely busy as we rose at 4:00 a.m. and packed up the
camp for transport. We ate a hastily prepared meal of toast with cheese, ham,
and coffee. The breakdown of the fence and generator equipment hit some
snags, and Volkov expressed his displeasure with the pace of operations.
Even with a few gaffes and some shouting, we managed to begin driving by
7:00 a.m.
The convoy set off in a procession of eight snow crawlers, which we now
called simply tractors, each pulling a sledge that was assigned to that tractor,
to remain with it throughout the expedition. The lead vehicle was designated
Tractor 1 or T1, pulling sledge S1, which was the office unit filled with repair
materials and parts. The unit also carried one of the two snowmobiles that
could be used for scouting ahead. Igor commanded the vehicle and had with
him Maxim, Victor, and Andre, in the large cab that served as the main
communications post. T1 was one of the tractors equipped with a machine
gun turret on top.
Volkov followed in T2 with Nina and Dubinin on board, hauling S2,
which contained the armory. His vehicle was also the secondary
communication post.
T3 was next, pulling the toilet unit loaded with the water treatment
system and water storage tanks, as well as a few containers of laboratory
equipment. One of the temporary drivers controlled it, with Olga, Petrowski,
and Yana Popova on board.
They were followed in turn by T4, manned by a temporary driver and
with Yuri, Irina, and Valeriya Bogdanova inside. They towed S4, containing
the generator and electric fence components. T5 was operated by one of the
temporary drivers supervised by Regina, with Marta Pankin inside. They
hauled S5, which was the kitchen unit filled with much of the food for the
expedition.
I rode with Kira Orlova and Lada Pavlova in T6, with Tamara in charge.
Our sledge, S6, was filled with food, lab equipment, and other supplies. We
were tailed by T8, a larger heavy-duty tractor, coupled to S8, the sledge with
the two storage containers on board that would be left at the edge of the
marshland. T8 and S8 would leave us at that point. One of the temporary
drivers drove it and had Mikhail and Diana Kozlova with him. Finally, T7,
fitted with the second .50-caliber machine gun, brought up the rear pulling
S7, which contained all the fuel for the trip. Ivan, our security number two,
commanded it as the rear guard, with Sergei and Pavel on board with him.
The convoy looked bizarre in this land of fog and frozen ground,
swerving around small hills and the many small copses of trees. Each vehicle
was equipped with yellow fog lights projecting forward and red taillights on
the tractor and sledge to make it easy to follow in one another’s tracks. One
passenger in each vehicle was appointed to keep an eye on the following
vehicle in case it slowed too much. We could not afford to be separated for
even a short time in this environment.
From my vantage point, it felt like I was riding in the belly of some long
wriggling centipede with magic yellow and red lights to mark its segments.
There was little else to see in the snow-covered landscape other than the
numerous small evergreen trees and scrub brush that circled the occasional
low, frozen wetland. We saw a few small birds early in the day, a sign that
the spring thaw was definitely coming and migration would soon follow.
We also saw one lone wolf of ordinary size along the way. The wolf had
a brown coat of ragged fur, and it patiently watched us wander by. Sergei
radioed to all of us that after we drove by the wolf, he trotted away as if he
were waiting at a railway crossing for a train to pass so he could proceed.
We made good time, with only two or three stops to verify that
everything was riding well on the sledges and none of the cargo straps were
loosening up. Volkov made an inspection along the side of the column of
vehicles, riding one of the snowmobiles with Nina on the back videotaping
the scene for the expedition record. He seemed satisfied with our progress
and let us have a half hour lunch break in our vehicles as a reward. Everyone
was cheered by hot soup, a small portion of meat and potatoes, a small cake,
and hot tea, an attempt at a traditional Russian lunch. We ate directly out of
our plastic lunch pails, which were made up of stacked containers of the same
diameter strapped together to form a convenient mess kit.
In the afternoon we maintained a speed of over three miles per hour,
which was our target. At 5:30 p.m., Volkov made an announcement over the
intercom, our low-powered radio network for communications between
vehicles. We had reached our goal for the day and would then establish our
campsite. We had traveled twenty-five miles, or forty kilometers, a decent
rate of progress for the first real day of the convoy. Camp setup took more
than two hours, however, setting nerves on edge as Volkov marched around
shouting orders and “correcting mistakes” made by us poor humans.
Everyone worked hard, each with an assigned duty and pulling his or her
weight, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the end of the process. When
Nina announced that dinner was ready, we all collected our meals in the
kitchen building on our standard-issue trays.
I ate with Irina, who had been excited all day and told me about her
experience. “It is so amazing to think that we are driving across the taiga in
Siberia, isn’t it?” She spoke delightfully about her observations. “And that
wolf looked so magnificent, didn’t he? I wonder what he thought to see us in
our peculiar caravan.”
“He must have been surprised to see so many vehicles like that. He might
have seen men on snowmobiles before, but not a convoy,” I replied.
“And he is one of the usual timber wolves of the area. I can’t wait to see
one of the really big animals up close,” Valeriya, the expedition psychologist,
said as she sat at the table with us to eat. “I wonder how much bigger they
really are. And do they look different?”
“According to Max, they look very much alike, except the big ones have
heavier legs and much denser fur,” Irina said. “And they have strange eyes,
he said.”
Volkov came through each of the two eating venues, the kitchen unit and
the office unit, to make announcements. He was disappointed with the
amount of time it had taken for us to get the camp set up, especially with the
time required to build the electric fence. After all, we must improve on that
very critical task for obvious reasons. He told us we might have to build the
fence while under attack one of these days, so we should straighten up and
work better.
 Ivan pointed out that the fence was more complicated than the version of
it they had trained with before the expedition began, and it was more
extensive now than originally planned. Volkov seemed to have trouble
containing his anger at the remark, saying, “Well, just get it done.”
But he had to admit that conditions had changed since the plan was
established. When he was able to control himself, he said, “Yes. Well, carry
on,” and left the unit to talk to the next group of diners.
After dinner, I sat and drank tea with Irina, Dr. Petrowski, and Yana
Popova, the plant taxonomist. She was an energetic Slav who was twenty-
four years old, had light brown hair, and had experience cataloging plants at
the botanical gardens in Moscow and Kiev.
Petrowski began to tell us about other trips into the far north, where
anything could happen, as he put it. He related the story about an unexplained
incident that occurred in 1959 in the Ural Mountains.
“It was called the Dyatlov Pass Incident because that is where something
unusual occurred in February of that year.” The doctor smiled as if settling in
to relate one of his favorite tales. He pulled out a pipe, filled it with cherry
tobacco, and lit it before he continued.
“Yes, I have heard this story.” Irina grinned at the memory. “It is very
scary.”
After a few puffs on his pipe, the doctor began: “It seems that a young
skier named Igor Dyatlov organized an overnight skiing trip one weekend,
and nine people joined him for the adventure. They were all students at the
Ural Polytechnical Institute in Yekaterinburg and were experienced long-
distance skiers. It seems that Igor wanted them to try to climb a mountain
called Otorten, near Kholat Syakhl, the pass’s old name before the tragedy
for which it was renamed after poor Igor’s death.” The good doctor tamped
down his tobacco to improve the draw of the pipe.
Irina was impatient. “Go on, tell the story,” she insisted. She pushed up
next to me, and I put an arm around her, causing Petrowski to raise an
eyebrow.
“Okay. So there were eight men and two women that set out from the
closest village and skied up the mountainside toward the pass. But one of the
skiers took ill and needed to return to the village, so there were nine left.
They made it very close to the pass when a snowstorm set in, and it was a
good strong one. They camped and continued in the morning, crossing the
pass after caching some food for the return trip.”
“And the storm continued . . .” Irina tried to pick up the pace of the story.
“Yes, my dear.” Petrowski laughed. “I was just coming to that . . . They
continued on as the storm worsened and lost their way, as far as investigators
could tell later. They deviated from their planned route up onto the side of
another mountain above the pass. Instead of returning, they decided to camp
where they were, perhaps to avoid getting further confused. Anyway, they
camped in the deep snow for the night.”
I asked, “Then what happened?”
The doctor adjusted his pipe before he continued, “Then we don’t know
what happened. Several days later when the skiers did not return, a search
party set out to find them. They found the group’s tent with their clothing
inside—boots, mittens, parkas, sleeping bags—but no people. There had been
some snow since that night, but after searching, they found tracks leading
down the mountainside toward the forest below.” He paused for effect. “Then
they found Dyatlov and the others scattered around the slope in the snow, all
frozen to death. They were half naked, as if they had been frightened out of
their wits and had run from the tent without putting on their clothes. It was a
great mystery.”
Irina couldn’t hold back her part of the story. “The investigators said that
the tent was cut open from the inside by a knife, as if they were terrified of
something and had to flee. They didn’t even put on their shoes before they
ran out into the deep snow and the storm. No one knows why. Investigators
found their diaries and notes, but there was no explanation.”
Petrowski said, “Some people think there was an animal or an apparition
that scared them from the tent. Some say they were doing drugs and
hallucinated, but there was no proof of that. Whatever it was, they were
terrified enough to flee for their lives. The government closed the whole area
for three years after that, and that led some people to think that the
government found something they were keeping secret. There was a lot of
that going on when people reported unidentified spaceships too.” He laughed
as he concluded his tale.
 “Well, thank you, Doctor,” I said as I stood up. “I will certainly think
about Dyatlov Pass tonight when I am trying to sleep.”
 CHAPTER 12
Northern Edge of the Taiga Terrain
May 14

After breakfast, we packed up camp in only one and a half hours, an

improvement noted by Volkov. We moved out at 5:30 a.m. in convoy with
our vehicles, sequenced the same as the previous day and in what was to be
our usual pattern. We maintained the four-miles-per-hour rate of progress that
would be our goal each day.
The weather was very cold, light snow squalls on and off, keeping
visibility down to no more than a hundred feet at best. There was the
omnipresent fog that lifted occasionally to give us a rare glimpse of the entire
convoy, but our view was usually limited to one or two vehicles in front of or
behind us. It was a bleak landscape, having no odor or sound except for the
wind and the rumble of our machinery.
Our tracked vehicles crawled over the snow easily most of the time.
Occasionally we stopped while the lead vehicle reversed to find a better route
past a cluster of trees or around a frozen pond of questionable stability. As we
rode along, I struck up a conversation with my traveling companions.
Tamara, as driver of the vehicle, joined in when she could, but her attention
was focused on keeping up with the vehicle ahead of us, T5.
Lada Pavlova was our large animal zoologist who had studied timber
wolves as a specialty. The expedition looked to her for expertise on wolf
behavior to understand the creatures we would encounter, but also to prepare
for any attacks that might occur. She was tall and very fit, with auburn hair
and a wonderful personality.
Kira Orlova was a botanist who specialized in northern species in Siberia
and Scandinavia. She had been on one other expedition to the far north in
Spitsbergen three years before and regaled us with tales of her experiences
there. She emphasized her knowledge of the vast quantities of beer
Norwegian fishermen could consume on that island. Kira was in her twenties,
blond, with a wide smile and pleasant features. We struck it off right away,
and she told me all about her adventures in northern climes. All three women
were interesting travel companions.
They also made it a point to force me to speak Russian while in the
tractor, which provided them with unending amusement at my frequent errors
and peculiar linguistic constructions. Kira took pity on me and spoke English
when I was completely confused. Tamara promised she could teach me to
swear properly in Russian slang as the expedition progressed. They could all
speak English fairly well, and we lapsed into my language in the evenings to
ensure my sanity.
Ivan in the last tractor suddenly broke silence on the intercom. “Sir, we
have something following us . . . I think. My rearward thermal sensor is
showing something warm behind us. I do not have a visual.”
Volkov responded in Russian, “Roger that. Keep an eye out. Over.”
“Wolf, probably,” said Lada. “It is probably wondering why we are
invading his territory. We might also smell like food to him. He would be
curious.”
“Have you studied wolves in this area before?” I asked.
“Yes. Not right here but in western Siberia. We are almost out of the
range where we should find wolves this far north. There is little for them to
eat here this time of year.”
Kira added, “I haven’t seen much for them to eat. What would they find
up here?”
“I have seen some rabbits,” Tamara commented. “One was very big, I
think.”
“Yes, rabbits and other rodents,” Lada responded. “When we enter the
tundra, we may see lemmings too. But they are not so plentiful to keep a wolf
pack fed in winter. They are more often the food of arctic foxes and smaller
single hunters.”
“Oh, I hope we see an arctic fox,” Kira cried out. “They are so beautiful.”
Then from Ivan again, “Sir, I am getting three or four signatures back
here. They are getting closer.” He paused. “Should we stop and do a motion
sensor scan?”
After a few seconds, Volkov replied, “Yes, that is our standard
procedure. Igor, we will stop if you are in a secure location. Understood?”
Igor in the lead vehicle complied. “Stopping now, sir. All sensors on.”
 Then the driver of each vehicle called in when they closed up the gap
between their vehicle and the one in front of them. Finally Ivan
acknowledged that he was coming up on the rear of sledge S8 and was
switching on his motion sensors. When the whole convoy was parked end to
end like this, its total length was nearly five hundred feet. When moving, we
were probably closer to six hundred feet long because of the space each
driver maintained between his tractor and the tail end of the sledge in front of
him.
“Motion sensors are picking up six animals on our tail. Range, a hundred
and fifty feet. They stopped when we stopped,” Ivan said. “Wait, I have a
visual on one of them.” We all held our breath, waiting for him to say more.
“It’s a timber wolf, gray, and looks to be normal size. He seems curious
but not aggressive.”
After a brief delay, Volkov gave the order to resume travel. Soon after
that, Ivan reported that the wolves had dropped back and disappeared from
his sensors. We bumped along as before across the taiga landscape. As I
looked out the window on my side of the tractor’s cab, I saw that the trees
were thinning out, and the ones I did see were shorter than before. I saw a
small brown rodent, maybe a groundhog, scurry from a low shrub to a burrow
beneath a rock.
We stopped for lunch briefly, and Volkov made his mandatory inspection
along the column of vehicles, with Nina on the back of the snowmobile
checking cargo straps that appeared loose. We ate from our lunch pails and
drank from personal water bottles. This was to be the standard lunch break
while we moved across the land.
When we continued travel after lunch, I brought out a few pages of my
uncle’s Journal volume X, that I referred to as Journal X in my mind, to read
since I was in the rear seat. I could read a little when conversation lapsed, as
it did then. Kira, who rode next to me in the rear seat, nodded off to sleep,
and we all took advantage of a little quiet time as Tamara drove ahead in line.
I could read only a little at a time because of the constant bumping and
occasional shudder of the vehicle as we crossed rocks or logs.
I resumed where I had left off before we reached the convoy. I read
through the parts where the previous expedition had finished packaging up
equipment and supplies for shipment to Yakutsk and flown by air to that city
for final preparations. All went well, and they transported the entire assembly
of vehicles to Zyryanka on flatbed trucks before the launch of the convoy
northward. I reached the part where Uncle Randall described their encounter
with bandits one night.

The interlopers attacked us on two sides at once, and our guards were surprised, even though one of
them said he heard a motor shortly before the shooting began. He was the guard who survived the first
minute and told me what happened initially. It was night, of course, short as those are at this latitude.
He thought he heard a snowmobile and then voices, just as he ducked down under cover behind a
container. The shipping containers turned out to be useful as cover during the defense because of their
thick aluminum walls.
He returned fire and at the same time began to shout like he was being murdered, which roused the
entire camp. He put down enough fire to make the bandits hesitate, perhaps thinking there was more
firepower here than they had expected. That hesitation gave us the time for our other guards to arm
themselves and take up positions around our perimeter. Hell, everyone grabbed a gun of some sort and
began to shoot in the directions that our guards were aiming their fire. I fired my shotgun at the flashes
of light that came from the attackers’ rifles and hoped to high heaven that I hit someone. I was scared
as hell and am not ashamed to admit it.
After a few minutes, there was a pause in the shooting, and it seemed the attackers were repositioning
themselves. Max called for us to cease fire and listen for any movement. All was quiet for about three
minutes, and then we came under fire from the left side near some bushes. One of our guards was hit
directly and fell down screaming. It was horrifying to hear, but we fought on, hoping that it would soon
end. And then it did just that. Max called for a cease-fire and shot his flare gun to illuminate the area.
We saw four men running away, and shortly after that, we heard the muffled sound of snowmobiles
fleeing and a deeper rumble like the sound of a truck farther off.
Max had our doctor tend to the first guard, who was hit, but he succumbed to his wounds by dawn. The
second guard who had died so loudly did not last much longer than his screams. They both died
terrible deaths trying to save the rest of us. We will forever be in their debt. Luckily we had no other
casualties from the incident.
None of us could sleep for the remainder of the night, and Max kept us up for guard duty until dawn a
few hours later. In the pale morning light, we found three bodies of men we had killed, one of them hit
several times. Max examined them and searched their pockets for clues of their purpose. They
appeared to be local workers from the mining town nearby, Zyryanka, perhaps down on their luck or
just opportunists who robbed people for a living. We will never know. Max kept their papers in a file,
and we will report the incident when we return this way in the autumn.

I read further about the travel conditions they encountered on the tundra and
found it was similar to what we had faced so far. They suffered no further
incidents until they met their first wolves on the tundra. Randall described the
wolves as magnificent animals based on a few brief sightings from the
convoy. They were prepared for an attack at night, the most likely time for
the animals to try such a thing. They expected that one or more animals
would investigate the camp the first night but were surprised when the
wolves observed them only at a distance, like they were surveilling the camp
but not ready to do more. And then . . .
“Alert! Alert! We have a large unknown animal on our left flank,
Colonel. It shows as a strong heat signature.” It was Mikhail sounding the
alarm this time from T8, the next to the last vehicle. “What do you want me
to do, sir?”
Volkov came on the intercom. “We are almost to our designated camp
area now. Keep an eye on it, and let’s see if we can avoid a delay.” Then, to
everyone on the com, “I need everyone to be vigilant now and watch out the
side windows for any motion of any kind. If you see anything significant,
report to me. Out.”
Tamara made sure her heat sensors were working. “Okay, everyone look
out for a wolf, or any other animal for that matter. We don’t have far to go
before we can make camp.”
I strained my eyes staring into the fog but could see nothing except
possible shadows of mist. Riding on the right side of the craft, I scanned the
area on that side, while Kira watched left and Lada in the front seat looked
right and forward on her side. It is amazing how many things appear to move
out in the mist when you are really concentrating on it. Most of them were
nothing at all. Kira saw a rabbit and Tamara saw a grouse.
I saw something gray for an instant, darker than the fog but also having a
shape like an animal. I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure what it was.
Kira thought she saw movement on our left side, so I turned her direction.
Then I sensed that I was being watched. The hair on my neck suddenly rose,
and a chill ran along my spine. Becoming alert instantly, I snapped my
attention back to look out my window. A wolf’s head appeared near a shrub,
just half his face—an eye, an ear, and part of the jawline. Then it was gone. I
jumped back in my seat because it seemed so close by.
“Jeez!” I said loudly. “There’s something there.” I pointed out the
window, but we had already passed the spot where I saw it.
 Kira slid across the seat right up against me and looked past me out the
window too. “I don’t see anything. Where? What did you see?”
“I saw . . . I thought I saw the side of a wolf’s head. His eyes were
yellow.” I shuddered as I recalled the look. “It was like he was looking right
at me.”
Tamara got on the com and announced that we had seen a wolf on the
right side. I felt like I could have been mistaken. It happened so fast.
Ivan came back on the com. “Confirm large heat signature on the right
side. It is close, twenty yards.”
“Listen up, everyone,” Volkov ordered. “One mile to go to campsite.
Keep all eyes peeled. One person per vehicle is authorized to charge
weapons, but maintain on safety. Repeat, maintain on safety. We must reach
camp and then begin our motion scans. Out.”
Tamara asked me if I had undergone weapons training. I was surprised.
“I served four years in the army before university,” I said. “I had basic
combat training, then I specialized in photo reconnaissance. I was a pretty
good shot and have kept up practice at my local shooting club.” I hoped she
was satisfied with that explanation.
“Good,” she said and handed me her shotgun loaded with heavy sabot
slugs. “You are going hunting. Point upward, rack a round in the chamber,
and set on safety. Da? Good.” She kept her eyes on the vehicle in front and
on her left window, sweeping the left front quarter of our perimeter. “If we
have trouble, I count on you to shoot any wolf you see. But be sure it is wolf
first, da? No shoot me.” She laughed and smiled quickly at me. “Don’t look
so severe. We’ll be fine.”
I felt my jaw clench tightly shut. I looked at Kira and she looked terrified.
Her eyes said it all: wild, filled with fear.
“Entering camp area. Everyone is to remain in their vehicle until I give
the all clear. Then you can dismount,” Volkov instructed us. “Now close up
ranks, tractors at ready, and begin motion scan.”
We had reached our goal for the day, the approximate northern edge of
the taiga and the beginning of the tundra terrain. The convoy closed ranks,
with each vehicle coming to a halt when right up on the sledge in front of it.
Igor, in the lead vehicle, reported when he had stopped moving and began his
scanners.
We waited. Nothing over the com. We all looked through our respective
windows as Tamara pulled out an AK-74, the newer model of the
Kalashnikov AK-47, checked its magazine, charged it, and set it on safety.
No one reported anything.
“We have a single large animal on our tail, sir. Large heat signature and
little motion. It seems to be circling around our convoy’s tail,” Ivan reported.
“Keep watching,” Volkov said. “If it remains more or less in position, we
will begin to establish camp.”
Another five minutes elapsed, and the fog lifted slightly. “Sir, it is
heading away from us slowly. Still only one signature. From the scan it
seems to be a very large wolf.”
Volkov was silent for a whole minute. “We will begin to build camp.
Igor, move your unit into place, and everyone remain in your vehicle until we
are secure.”
I watched the first tractor, T1, pull forward and disconnect its sledge in
the center of the camp. All other sledges would be positioned relative to it, so
tractor T5 pulled in parallel to the first sledge and deposited S5 next to S1,
while T1 moved to the perimeter to provide cover for the others. I was
fascinated to watch the choreography of the tractors and construction crew as
they positioned sledges and equipment. T3 pulled in to deposit S3 alongside
S5. T8 placed S8 along the ends of the first three sledges, forming a
rectangular block of units. In quick succession, S2, S4, S6, and S7 were
placed on a grid around the first four sledges to form the corners of the square
outline for the camp. This freed the tractors up to maneuver as needed, to
complete the camp structure, and to reposition, allowing their sensors to scan
the boundary.
Once the sledges were positioned, Volkov called for his security team to
deploy the exterior sensor network on low posts so that any motion or heat
sources could be detected. I helped with this, carrying the wireless sensors
already attached to the posts. Victor marched around with us with an assault
rifle at the ready in case any wildlife were to interfere. That took ten minutes.
At the same time, the electric fence was constructed, taking its
components from S4. This was no simple procedure because it called for the
placement of forty-two metal posts spaced every ten feet around the
perimeter to form a nearly square enclosure. Placement of the posts was
facilitated by a powered device that melted the soil at the same time it
augered the post in the ground. The post driver was attached to one of the
tractors, allowing it to operate quickly. Once the posts were inserted, the five-
wire electric fencing was attached by unrolling it from a special spool that
was attached to one of the tractors.
Men set up the generator and refueled the tractors for the next day.
Within one hour, the electric fence came alive and the camp was secured. All
vehicles were parked within the fence and positioned to allow their sensors to
supplement the outer sensor network if needed. Irina and the other scientists
set up the water purification system and organized other equipment and the
kitchen facilities. Everyone had a job in order for the camp setup to go
smoothly. Two hours after we began, the camp was secure and operational.
No animals were detected throughout the process.
The rest of the evening was uneventful as we all ate dinner and carried on
conversations about the day’s travel. We turned in by 9:00 p.m. so we could
get an early start the next day.
During the night, I woke up because Pavel raised a low-level alert that
something warm was close to camp, close enough to approach the electric
fence. He was able to see it in his night-vision goggles only briefly before it
turned and disappeared into the fog. It was a huge gray wolf, the size of a
small horse, he said. I had trouble sleeping again after that.
Wolves howled in the distance to keep us company that night. Some
sounded normal, and others called with deeper tones, perhaps the voices of
the larger species. The howls continued in my dreams.
 CHAPTER 13
On the Tundra
May 15

The next morning I was very nervous after a full night of being serenaded by
the wolf pack that seemed to be in the scrub landscape surrounding us. I
climbed down from the cab of T6 and shuffled around to the outer side of the
vehicle to look over the tundra. The weather was clear for a brief period, long
enough for me to view the vast, vacant snowscape that lay ahead of us for
perhaps one and a half miles. There were few trees of any kind, even though
there were small clumps of bushes here and there and tall grasses in the areas
that had been low and wet in the summer months. But there were snowdrifts
downwind from the bushes and blow-out zones where the winter winds had
carved away all the snow, each area with its own texture.
“In Greenland, the natives have names for more than fifty types of snow,
each one unique. I wonder if it is the same here to the hunters,” I said as
Dubinin came over to join me, looking rumpled after an early rise and
lighting his pipe in the mild breeze.
“I have heard that the Chuckchi people, the natives along the northern
coast of Siberia, have at least that many names for snow and ice. I suppose if
you live with it and depend on your knowledge of it, you must learn all its
many forms.”
Sergei and Maxim came around the corner of the S6 sledge and greeted
us. They were walking around the perimeter of the fence as others prepared to
disassemble it. “Dobroe utro. How are you today?” I called. “Anything new
about Pavel’s wolf last night?”
“Yes, come. Let me show you what we have found. It was a big one,”
Sergei shouted. He waved for us to follow him, so Dubinin and I complied.
We walked to the west side of the camp, staying on the inside of the electric
fence and at least three feet away from the wires. Sergei stopped where Lada
Pavlova and Volkov stood on the outside of the wire, Andre on guard with
his AK-74.
Sergei was a little under six feet, tall by most standards, but not so in this
group of tall men and women. He was powerfully built, and his earnest, open
face allowed me to like him right away. He seemed to be happy as a
professional soldier.
“Good morning,” Volkov called to us. “We had a visitor last night.” He
was excited and waved his arm at the ground, where Lada was taking close-
up photos of a large paw print. She looked up as we arrived and smiled
broadly.
“This is huge. It measures twelve inches along the length of the paw and
nine inches wide. The animal must have been at least four hundred pounds in
weight.” She got on her knees and showed how deep her own footprints were
in the snow. “Maybe six hundred pounds. That’s big.”
Dubinin asked her, “Have you ever seen one this large before?”
“My God, no!” she cried as she got to her feet. “This is a record for
anywhere in the world. I would like to get a photo of the beast if we could
manage that.” She turned to Volkov. “Do you think we will see one of these
again?”
Volkov looked gravely at Lada. “My dear friend, I hope you can get a
photo but will not see one up close. They are ferocious fighters and vicious
animals. I do not want to get close to one of them again.”
Sergei commented, “It looks like this wolf was investigating our fence
line. He may have come close to sniff the post. It would be something new
for him.”
At that point, Irina called out to me from the kitchen unit that breakfast
was about to finish, so I ran over to get something to eat. I told her what I had
seen and heard about the wolf.
“I find that terrifying, Grant.” She shuddered as she spoke. “To be so
close to us in the night. Even with the fence, it seems too dangerous.”
I looked around. “Where is Yuri this morning? He is usually right by
your side.”
“Oh, he ate already and went to help with the fence. He said he was going
to get a shotgun from the armory as an extra precaution.” She looked up at
my face and smiled weakly. “I hope we will be okay here.”
“Don’t worry,” I said cheerfully. “The fence will keep us safe. Now let’s
finish up and get ready for the day’s travel.” I might have sounded more
certain of our safety than I really felt. I was trying to picture in my mind what
a wolf the size of a small horse would look like.
Volkov made a few changes in our routine today, perhaps as he prepared
for a possible encounter with the overgrown wildlife of the area. He issued
more firearms to each vehicle so that it was equipped with at least one
shotgun and one AK-74 with tracers and mercury bullets, in addition to the
arms that the security people carried with them at all times. Yuri now sported
a pump shotgun on a strap around his shoulder and had an AK beside him in
the cab when we traveled. He wore a grim look on his face when Irina was
not watching.
Olga, who was in charge of communications, walked up to the kitchen
unit where Irina and I stood after breakfast. She spoke with Tamara and
Victor, both standing by the kitchen door. Olga was much more muscular
than the others, tall like Tamara, but she must have been into bodybuilding,
whereas Tamara was lean and not too heavily muscled. Olga had the same
confidence that all the female guards demonstrated: calm, businesslike when
on duty, and generally friendly. Olga struck me as a real professional, the
kind of soldier you wanted at your back when the chips were down. They
both had brown hair and eyes, but Tamara’s eyes seemed to radiate mischief
when she smiled.
Olga complained that she was losing radio contact with the airport back
in Zyryanka. “There is an interference that I cannot compensate for,” she
said. “Our three local com channels seem fine, but I don’t want to lose
contact with the town.”
“Maybe we should have established a relay station along our route,”
Victor commented. “Now we may have to rely on the satellite phone.”
“It may not be a big deal,” Tamara said. “We don’t really need to call the
outside anyway. Not until we return at least.”
We got underway by 6:30 a.m., and Volkov said nothing. I think he was
probably thinking about the wolf’s visit in the night. Of all of us, only he
possessed firsthand experience with these creatures. It was hard for me to
understand but I don’t think Lada realized what it meant to have a massive
wolf like that out there in the mists. To her it was probably a great find or a
surprise to find such an impressive wolf alive in nature. She and the others
had been briefed about the size and danger of the creatures, but the idea that
several of them could operate as a pack had not sunk in for us yet. I had some
idea of the damage they could do only because of what Volkov had told me
of the last expedition. I hoped we would not learn the hard way whether the
electric fence would deter them. The fog closed in by 9:00 a.m., and we
drove along in pea soup, heat sensors on as we went.
I took a chance to do some more reading of Journal X today after staring
out the window the first few hours of the day. I read about the day before the
first wolf attack last year.

We crossed the tundra and did not expect to see any animals there because there are no grasses to
support deer or creatures larger than rodents. But as we moved along, we began to see many rodents,
like rabbits, lemmings, gophers, and such. It was a surprise until we realized that we were, in fact,
encountering small patches of grassy vegetation, even in what would normally be considered tundra.
We stopped to collect samples and found that there was indeed enough grass to support a few
ungulates like deer and elk. This new information seemed to correlate with what Veruschka had
commented on earlier. That the temperature as we drove farther north was not getting colder as we had
expected, but perhaps warmer.
In the afternoon we encountered the first small herd of Siberian musk deer, a species that might have
been present at this latitude some years ago but has become extinct this far north. It is a peculiar
animal with small rounded ears designed to survive the arctic winter and small fangs that protrude
from the upper jaw in a downward direction, even though they are herbivores. They grow the fangs
instead of antlers. They are able to survive on nearly any vegetative matter for food; even lichens will
suffice. The first ones we saw were normal size, but they seemed to grow larger as we moved north.
And, of course, we began to see Siberian roe deer as well.

We stopped for lunch after midday as usual and ate while we talked about our
sightings so far. There was no indication we were being followed by any
animal, no heat signatures or sightings, so Volkov allowed the biologists to
take an hour for botanical collection as long as they stayed within twenty
yards of their vehicle with an armed guard. This was what Diana Kozlova,
Kira, and Yana Popova had been dying to do since we began.
There were lots of specimens close to the convoy, and the women were
occupied for the full hour with examining plants that were new to them and
cataloging those they were familiar with but that did not require collection. In
fact, they were so enthralled in collection that Volkov put his foot down
when the hour of activity ran into two hours. He had grown tired of the “just
one more sample” argument.
 We got moving again at 3:00 p.m. and made good progress for the rest of
the day, arriving at the planned destination an hour later than Volkov wanted.
He gave a severe warning that this sort of activity would be allowed only if
everyone could agree not to abuse his generosity. In any case, the botanists
were busy late into the night preserving the specimens they now had.
I talked to Irina for a while, but she was drawn away by Dubinin and the
biologists to help with the preservation effort. That gave me the opportunity
to sneak away to my quarters and read more of Journal X.

We were ten days out on the expedition when we first encountered the large wolves, which I shall call
dire wolves due to their immense size and similarity to the now extinct species from the last Ice Age.
Ironically “dire wolf” translates to “fearsome dog,” and that should have caught my attention sooner,
but that is just hindsight on my part. The real question concerning me at the time was: Are these a
related species? We don’t know. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to collect a specimen for
examination.
We set up camp last night with the usual precautions. Max suggested we pass out more weapons to
those who knew how to use them. I argued against it because I could just imagine someone mistakenly
shooting one of our company by mistake. The scientists were not skilled with firearms, and it seemed
like an unnecessary risk. He acquiesced but argued that we should at least station weapons where they
would be readily accessible, to which I agreed. Maybe I was being too conservative.
We entered the marshlands at this point, and although we saw the wolves at times along the way, we
did not consider them a significant threat as long as we stayed with the vehicles. The animals did seem
to shadow us at times, but we thought they were merely curious to see our caravan. No one was
allowed to leave the safety of the group, and that worked for the time being. We were serenaded each
night by the furry creatures from then on.
We encountered an unusual area where we discovered a large number of bones, which in retrospect
might have been from the very creatures who were observing us. Unfortunately we did not have time to
make a study of the bones but took one partial skeleton with us for study when we were not pressed for
time as we were then.
We did have concerns at night and arranged the vehicles in a defensive circle somewhat like how early
American pioneers circled their wagons for defense. We used the snow crawlers as protection from a
direct attack if an animal came searching for food in our camp. With the sledges pulled up, there were
only a dozen gaps where a curious animal could invade our circle. That was wishful thinking.
They came that night when it finally got somewhat dark and the fog was very thick. There was a
coordinated attack by a pack of four animals who came through three different gaps at the same time.
It turns out that we only had a few floodlights on the perimeter of camp, and the wolves came through
gaps that were only partially lit. Our guards were not aware they were there until one of the animals
actually growled from a distance of only twenty feet. One guard, being the youngest, nearly passed out
from fear and fell over a box of supplies when he nearly jumped out of his skin. Fortunately, his rifle
went off as he fell, and the shot woke the entire camp.
Pandemonium ensued as the guards began to fire their weapons at the wolves in camp. People began to
run from their tents, and their clambering scared the wolves. They found themselves surrounded by
humans, who they may never have encountered before. A second guard shot at the closest wolf, landing
about three shotgun rounds in his great furry chest, and the wolf seemed confused by the source of his
sudden pain. He attacked the guard closest to him and nearly ripped the man’s head off in one violent
bite to his throat. He then shook the man in his mouth like a rag doll before dropping him and turning
to retreat. Another wolf grabbed Ivana Vladovski by her leg and shredded her thigh in seconds. Then
they all fled into the foggy night.
Light came to us about an hour later, and by then we had suffered one dead scientist and a dead guard.
Another guard had been bitten but survived the event. When we ventured outside of camp to patrol the
area, we found the remains of one wolf, the one a guard had shot in the chest, dead near a cluster of
shrubs. He had bled out lying on his belly with his feet under him, as if he were just resting by the side
of a fireplace like any domestic family dog. He was huge, and we recorded his dimensions for the
record. We buried our two colleagues and then continued on to the north, scared out of our wits by the
event. We burned the wolf carcass with gasoline.
 CHAPTER 14
At the Edge of the Marshlands
May 18

The next three days raced by smoothly, and we made good progress across
the tundra, winding our way ever northward. We heard wolves each night but
had only rare sightings of them as we drove along. There was little to see
since the pea-soup fog never lifted for more than an hour at a time, and even
then we could see only a few hundred yards in any direction. Like everyone
else, I was getting bored and tired of the infernal mist with occasional snow
flurries.
Kira and Lada were absorbed by music as earbud bliss preoccupied them.
I took time to do more reading in Journal X, which I could do without
drawing any suspicion. Everyone was now reading a novel or technical
papers, waiting for us to get to the marshlands. I backtracked in the journal a
little to put together the scattered information Randall had mentioned about
Zona itself. Upon searching, I found an appendix where he summarized much
of these insights:

The zone had been studied by geologists and others in the nineteenth century when much of Siberia was
surveyed for mineral deposits. That was the survey that discovered many of the gold and precious stone
deposits that the tsar relied on for his wealth. A group of men came to the area near Zona to complete a
reconnaissance land survey to serve as the basis for maps. They were unable to complete their duty due
to the outlandish fog in the area. They attempted to make geological observations but were turned
around by the climate and the exceptionally high magnetic anomaly caused by the bedrock. It was their
work that led to the concept that a large meteorite had crashed here millions of years ago, causing the
magnetic anomaly and initiating a long period of volcanic activity. That would explain the incidences
of igneous and volcanic rocks they encountered over a large area.
There was further exploration in the area in 1939 before the Second World War, called the Great
Patriotic War by the Russians. Although Russia had many mines elsewhere already, there was a need
to find deposits of the rarer metals for use in armaments. One unlucky group was sent into Zona to look
for better mining opportunities. They managed to penetrate farther north than anyone before that time,
perhaps because they encountered more favorable weather. At least that is what they reported:
visibility of up to two miles and a dry spell. They crossed the marshlands in late spring and got as far
as the Zona Mountains. They collected rock samples that were later found to contain uranium. Three of
the explorers returned to make a report. The report was immediately classified because of some of the
things they noted about large animals.
In 1949, Russia began her nuclear weapons program, and there was a need for uranium production.
The government explored the area again as a possible site for a secret uranium mine based on the rock
samples collected by the 1939 survey group. In April 1950, a company of army engineers and mining
experts came to the Zone to locate a possible site for mining with the hope that an experimental mine
could prove the feasibility of operations. They attempted to excavate a test mine in the most accessible
mountain pass but incited disaster.
According to the only record I could find on that exploit, only four men returned out of the 126 men
who began the journey. Again there were rumors of large animals, including large wolves, but also
mention of a ferocious mountain lion with huge teeth that attacked the camp after mining operations
began. The survivors were interrogated and then committed to a mental hospital. They called the lion
Sheba. The records were sealed, and no further attempts were made to create a mine.

I was struck by how matter-of-fact my uncle’s summary was as I put my

pages of X away and considered his statements. From a geological point of
view, the explanation of Zona being created by meteorite impact made a great
deal of sense. There is ample evidence on at least three continents of the
extreme energy associated with deep meteorite impacts liquefying a portion
of the crust and inflicting massive volcanic activity. The results have been
extensive craters and vast mineral deposits that in some cases are still
accessible for mining, like in the Canadian Shield. The impact could unleash
magma from the mantle into the area, leading to long-term volcanic and other
thermal activity that could last millions of years. In a few instances, the
heating has continued up to modern times and has led to local climatic
anomalies, such as longer warm periods compared to areas with no thermal
source.
And Siberia was known for its legendary meteorite impacts, such as the
1908 meteor that exploded in the atmosphere and devastated forest over
hundreds of square miles with the vast shock wave it created. That was
estimated to have been a thirty-foot-diameter rock meteor. Imagine if a one-
mile-diameter iron meteor crashed into Zona. The devastation would be huge,
and the thermal effects could last for millions of years.
Our tractor suddenly came to a stop, and I asked, “What’s happening?”
Tamara spoke into her headset for several moments then announced to
the rest of us, “The colonel wants us to close up the gaps and wait while he
and Igor scout ahead. We have reached the edge of the marshlands.” She
talked over the headset again while the rest of us looked at one another with
some expectation.
 “Finally,” Kira said, smiling at me. “We are here. Now we can begin our
research.”
“Not so quickly, Kira,” Lada replied. “We are approaching Zona, but we
will not stop for collections in the marshlands. The ground is still frozen.”
“I’m not sure what will happen now,” I said. “I think we need to cross the
marshes before we can begin to think about research.” Then I added, “And
we need to get to the pass quickly if we are to search for any survivors from
last year.”
Kira took my hand in hers. “Oh yes. I’m sorry. I forgot that you still have
to look for your lost uncle. I was so excited about beginning my work, I
forgot that we have to do that right away.” She gave me a sympathetic look
and squeezed my hand again before letting go.
“Okay, here is what is happening.” Tamara began her update. “T1 and T2
are disconnecting from their sledges to explore ahead. It seems they came out
on a low terrace that overlooks the marsh, and it is too steep where they are to
bring the sledges down the slope safely. We are going to remain in place until
we hear back from them.” She switched on the motion detectors on her
control panel. “The colonel thinks that we may camp up here on the terrace
for the night, but he wants to be sure the way ahead is clear.”
We sat patiently for an hour while the tractors’ sensors scanned our
flanks with no detections. We had not viewed many animals in the last two
days as we approached the marshlands, and we didn’t know why. A few
rodents and a few deer were present, but nothing unusual. Certainly no dire
wolves.
In the last three days, we had covered more than 150 miles with little
difficulty. We had damaged one track when a tractor ran over a stray boulder,
and there was trouble with one of the sledge hitches that needed repair. No
major incidents and no attacks from any creatures. After my reading of Uncle
Randall’s exploits, I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t have any excitement
to report in my own daily journal. But there were many days ahead, and I was
sure we would have plenty to do to keep us busy.
“Attention, everyone.” Volkov’s voice came over the intercom. “We have
found a ramp down to the marshes close by. We will camp here for the night
on a low terrace that overlooks the marsh. Begin camp preparations. Out.”
 All the tractor drivers then conducted their practiced maneuvers to get the
sledges into the usual camp configuration. The exception was T8, which now
pulled sledge S8 to an area that Volkov designated just outside the boundary
of the camp. That was to be the location where the two storage units would
remain for future emergency use. The two heavy-duty storage containers
were off-loaded onto an area where bedrock happened to be at the surface,
providing them a stable foundation. The advantage of this location, Volkov
said later, was that they were visible from a distance from the marshlands,
assuming there was little fog to deal with.
The rest of the camp was put together as usual with the now empty sledge
S8 parked outside the fence. When the electric fence and sensor perimeter
were in place, the drivers set about refueling all vehicles and preparing T8
and S8 for their return voyage the next morning. Empty fuel containers,
accumulated trash, and any other items the expedition would not need from
then on were loaded onto S8. The cargo was secured, and the four drivers
finished their last duties. They would leave first thing in the morning for a
long two days of nearly nonstop driving back to Zyryanka.
There was a brief ceremony for the drivers after dinner in the office unit
to thank them for their contribution to the success of the expedition.
Afterward, I pulled Irina aside for a chat about how things stood in my
tractor/sleeping quarters. We had an hour of privacy that I had arranged via
an understanding with my sleeping companions.
Irina and I sneaked into my bed, and we had a passionate love session,
talking a little before a repeat performance. It was very satisfying after being
separated for so long because of the convoy sleeping arrangements, with all
spaces occupied day and night.
“I have asked Volkov if I can ride with you in your tractor,” I said, “now
that you have an empty seat in your cab with the driver going back. Would
you like that? We would be able to talk more often that way.” I held her close
to me, and we caressed each other as we talked, something we had not been
able to do much lately.
“Oh, you ask me now?” Irina pulled back and gave me a haughty look.
“Are you sure Kira won’t object? Maybe you should ask her first.”
I could not help but laugh at this reprimand. “Do you think I should ask
her? She may not like it.”
“I have seen the way she looks at you and how she brushes up against
you when she thinks no one is looking.” Irina gave me one of her emerald-
eyed glares while grinning a little at the same time. Then she admitted, “Well,
I guess she is not so bad.”
As we lay panting afterward, I wondered where our relationship was
going. Were we in love? I still had questions about trusting her completely.
She was still hiding something from me, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I
looked into the depths of her eyes and saw love and amusement, but there
was something calculating back there too. Did she really love me or not? I
guess that was the big question. If not, why were we here steaming up the
windows of this vehicle? If I was really concerned, I knew I shouldn’t get so
deeply involved with her, but I was desperate for her sex. The sex won out in
my internal struggle.
There was a pounding on the sidewall of the snow crawler. “It has been
an hour, you two sex fiends. Time to let us go to sleep.” It was Dr. Petrowski
keeping up his end of the bargain. He slipped away to give us a decent
interval to get our clothes back on. When we finally stumbled out of the cab,
I handed him my small bottle of brandy so he could pour himself and
Dubinin a dram each as reward for my hour of privacy with Irina. It was a
fair trade.
We walked back to the kitchen unit where a few people were still
engaged in conversation. Kira gave me a rather nasty look when she saw me
with Irina. Then she smiled and came over to sit next to me across from Irina
at one of the tables. She threw an arm around my waist as a strong message to
my red-haired friend. I didn’t remove Kira’s arm immediately and received a
stiff kick in the shins under the table as Irina stared pleasantly at Kira and me.
Then I got just the hint of a glare that told me I was playing with fire. I
dislodged Kira’s embrace.
We all made small talk about what to expect next as we entered the
marshes, and everyone was excited. Even Kira dropped her amorous intent
for the rest of the evening to join in the discussion. Then Lada suggested that
all men get out of the unit so the women who slept there could get into bed
for the night.
 I got up to go, said good night to everyone, and stepped outside. Irina
followed me down the steps to the ground, and we found a shadow away
from the klieg lights’ glare. I pulled her to me, and we kissed for several
moments. “I think I prefer redheads, even if they disapprove of my friends.”
After a few minutes, I told her what I had learned about Zona geology but
did not indicate where I had learned the information. She gave me a
suspicious look and added, “I have heard much the same thing from Uncle
Boris. And Max said that he thinks the giant cat creature that attacked him
last year is a type of large mountain lion with huge teeth. He called it a
sabertooth. It must be truly horrifying.” She shuddered in my arms.
I wondered if I should tell her I had a copy of Journal X. But something
told me that I should read Randall’s full account of what had happened to his
expedition before I divulged anything to her. I couldn’t put my finger on it,
but I still was not sure I could trust her or Volkov yet.
 CHAPTER 15
The Marshlands
May 19

The drivers were eager to return home, so they left camp at 3:00 a.m., just
after it became fully daylight. Their sledge receded into the morning fog, and
the sound of their engine was soon lost beneath the howl of the quickening
wind. A storm had blown in, and that affected everyone’s attitude in camp.
The surprising aspect of the wind was that it was warmer than we had
expected, as if spring had advanced on us by surprise during the night.
We packed up camp and were on the move by 6:00 a.m., driving north
into the gray waste of the marshlands. The terrain was different now, there
being no trees and few shrubs because of the perpetual moisture of bog and
marsh. Fog hugged the ground like a misty syrup, so thick at ground level
that we couldn’t see the frozen soil we crossed. We could see just enough to
keep track of the vehicle in front of us, but even that was tricky, drivers
calling back and forth on the radio to let one another know when they must
stop or correct course to avoid collisions. A few mishaps occurred in which a
tractor rammed into the tail of the preceding sledge, usually causing minimal
damage, but in one case destroying the taillight of a sledge and, therefore,
stopping the whole column as the light was repaired.
“Halt! All halt!” came the cry from Igor. Everyone slammed on the
brakes immediately, not knowing if the sledge ahead of them was already
dead still. Mikhail was now our driver in T4, taking over from the driver who
had returned to the mining town. I traded places with Valeriya Bogdanova,
who took my place in T6. A reshuffling of people filled in the positions held
by the now returning drivers. We were down to seven sets of vehicles.
“This is Igor. We have encountered a wet marsh ahead and will have to
scout a way around it.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “It appears to be
a hot spring and is steaming a great deal, so we can’t see very far. I will have
to investigate.”
Volkov came on the intercom. “Everyone should now switch their
thermal scanners to channel two, which should provide better detection of
ground-level heat sources. We cannot take any chances of driving into warm
ground, or we might become stuck.”
There was some discussion over the intercom in rapid Russian as the
various drivers aired their concerns about driving in the pea-soup blanket that
was upon us. Even Volkov seemed caught off guard.
After ten minutes, Volkov’s voice came over the intercom again. “We
have a plan. We will deploy a snowmobile with Maxim and Andre on board
to lead the way around the hot spring.” I knew one of them would have a
shotgun at the ready.
The convoy began to move again at a reduced speed, the snowmobilers
scouting the way ahead and the long train of vehicles lurching along behind
in the fog. We encountered one other hot spring along the way, and that
troubled me. I hadn’t read anything about such occurrences in Uncle
Randall’s journal. Did this mean we were on a completely different course
than he had taken last year? In any case, the fog thinned when we got past the
last spring, perhaps suggesting that we were creeping over cooler ground.
By lunchtime we had covered about nine miles in this fashion, and
Volkov came down the line for his daily inspection of the rigging. When he
came to our tractor, I asked, “Max, when you were escaping from Zona last
year, did you encounter any hot springs in the marshes? I haven’t heard
anything about them before today.”
“Last year when I came out, I found a few places where the water was
warm, but I was crossing the marsh during summer on my exit. I simply
floated past areas that could have been hot springs, but I would not have
known it at the time.”
“Are we on the same course that you followed going in last time?” Irina
asked.
“No, we were on a slightly different course this morning, as far as I can
tell from our limited navigational information. I am trying to shift us further
west, which should put us close to our route from last year.” He pulled out
the GPS tracking unit at his disposal and held it in the air to locate a signal.
“But the damn GPS is not cooperating, nor is the GLONASS system.
Something is interfering with our ability to download from satellites. And the
satellite phone has gone dead too. I don’t understand it.” Without any further
discussion, he directed Andre to drive him to the next sledge to continue the
rigging inspection.
Today in T4, Mikhail was at the wheel, Yuri was riding shotgun, and
Irina and I shared the rear seating. This arrangement allowed me to talk to her
throughout the day, but we limited our conversation in front of the other two
occupants of the cab. And with Irina in the cab, I could not simply pull out
my copy of Journal X to read as we bounced along through these marshy
badlands. I would need to read clandestinely at night to avoid discovery.
We struggled the rest of the day, even driving an extra hour to make up
for time lost avoiding hot springs. Even so, we had covered only twenty-one
miles today instead of the intended twenty-five to thirty. Volkov was in a
bleak mood as we all scrambled to set up the camp and our protective electric
fence.
On this occasion I helped Dr. Petrowski drill a shallow well in the frosted
soil to extract water for our supply tanks. We lowered a small submersible
pump into the hole when it was deep enough and started extracting bog water
to run through the treatment unit. If all went well, it would provide enough
drinking water to handle our needs until we pulled up stakes in the morning
with full water tanks.
We were all exhausted by the end of the day, and we turned in for the
night shortly after dinner was finished. I detected that something was not
quite right between Irina and me by the end of the meal but was not sure what
she was thinking. In any case, I settled into my sleeping quarters and was
soon serenaded by the good doctor’s baritone snores and Dubinin’s wheezy
breathing. In spite of their vocalizations, I fell off to sleep quickly after the
long day.
Something woke me during the night, even though my cab mates were
not awakened. I raised my head to the sound of whispered voices outside the
cab. Looking outside, I saw that Sergei and Pavel, two of our night guards,
were standing nearby just inside the electric fence, talking excitedly in a low
Russian murmur.
“What the hell is it?” Sergei asked. “Is someone out there?”
I looked in the general direction of their gaze and saw what looked like
the dim flicker of lights off in the foggy distance. It was very weak, but there
was a bluish light that seemed to change color slightly as it shifted position.
Then it dimmed out and returned as a dull orange glow in another area to the
right of its last location. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I felt
suddenly chilled. There was a strong smell to the air—sulfur maybe, or the
devil himself.
“There is something out there, Sergei. I know it. Someone is moving in
the marsh.” Pavel pulled his AK-74 around on its strap to hold in front of
him. Then he spoke softly into the microphone attached to the lapel of his
jacket. “Nina, do you read me? We have movement in the marsh on our west
side. Be alert. I will call Olga.”
Olga was on duty as head of the security detail for the night, monitoring
the sensor data that came into the central controller in T1. She responded
quickly, “Yes, Pavel? What is it?” Her voice crackled over the radio so
loudly that I could hear her from my position in the cab.
“Do you show anything on the sensors on the west side of camp?” Pavel
asked. “We are seeing lights out there in the mist. What do you see?”
“I see nothing at all on any of our sensors. No heat signatures or motion.
Are you sure you see something? Or are you just tired?”
Pavel shrugged his shoulders and looked at Sergei. “Yes, I’m tired.” He
began to tell Olga how tired he really was when the light shifted.
“I saw it too,” Sergei piped in. “There are moving lights out there. What
should we do?”
Olga asked him to describe the lights, and as he did so, the lights went
out completely.
“Shit,” Pavel said. “They’re gone now. What the hell?” He raised his arm
to emphasize his frustration.
“Oh shit.” Nina’s voice came over the radio from the other side of the
camp. “I got lights out here. Orange ones. They’re moving to the right.”
Sergei answered, “What do you see, Nina? Are they close?”
“Shit, it’s coming right at me!” she screamed. Then we heard a loud burst
of rifle fire from her position.
“I’m coming, Nina. On the way.” Sergei took off at a run around our
tractor and across camp as I heard another two short bursts of rifle fire from
the east side of camp.
 I threw off my sleeping bag and pulled on my pants as I yelled for
Dubinin and Petrowski to wake up. The rifle fire had already pierced their
slumber, and they called out in the dark. I shouted, “Wake up! There’s
shooting.” I finished pulling on a jacket and left the cab with my Makarov
pistol in hand.
Olga was now sounding a general alert on the intercom, and lights came
on in the cabs of many vehicles as pandemonium ensued. Then Olga shouted
through the intercom, “Shut off all lights! Shut off all lights. You’re making
us all targets . . . No lights.”
The lights switched off around camp as the ready reserve of guards ran
out and took up positions around the camp perimeter. Soon the whole camp
was up, and people were running outside to see what was happening. I
shuffled around the tracks of my tractor to where Pavel was moving back and
forth, looking out at the night beyond the fence line. A dim orange light
formed out there in front of us, perhaps three hundred yards away. It was
moving toward us slowly, seeming to creep along the ground. Pavel raised
his weapon as it came, setting his jaw and focusing his attention on the light.
I was scared shitless but raised my Makarov, prepared to help Pavel against
the unseen foe. I backed up and climbed onto the tracks of the snow crawler
for a better defensive position.
The light came toward us as we heard scattered shooting from the east
side of camp. We must be under attack, I thought. Pavel fired into the
approaching light, and it suddenly went out. I couldn’t believe it. Now we
couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black.
“Hell!” Pavel blurted a short threat, and I heard a strange sucking sound
from his position near the fence. Then a thrashing sound and water splashing
where he had been. I looked into the darkness but saw nothing.
“Pavel. What’s happening? Pavel?” I called to him in a low voice,
listening as I called out. I heard movement from his location, but he did not
answer. The sound of someone or something exhaling in water was the only
reply.
Then there was a bright white light from the lowest wire of the electric
fence. An arc so bright that I was instantly blinded. But in the instant that it
flashed, I saw that Pavel was in a hole in the ground, thrashing in murky
water, and he was gripping the wire. He was being electrocuted as he
grounded the fence, half-submerged in the marsh, his face in a torrent of pain,
unable to let go.
I just sat there on the tracks and watched the life burn out of him until his
arm burst into flame and his fingers melted away. The stench of burning flesh
filled the air. I retched onto the tracks and tried not to look down. I leaned
back against the cab of the tractor.
Then the klieg lights came on, and the whole landscape beyond the fence
turned bright white as the fog reflected the light. We could see about fifty
yards out from the camp. There was nothing there except marshland and a
rotten egg smell. The colored lights were gone.
Dr. Petrowski came around the tractor and stopped close to me. “Are you
all right?”
I couldn’t speak but pointed at the hole in the ground next to the fence
where Pavel’s remains floated in the sizzling water. Petrowski looked down
and nearly fell over from shock. I told him to climb up on the tracks for his
own safety.
“You can’t help him now, Doc.”
 CHAPTER 16
Northern Marshlands
May 20

After twenty minutes, Volkov came on the intercom system so that everyone
could hear and announced that the danger was over. By that time, the first
rays of dawn began to illuminate the fog, and we all got on with the day.
Pavel’s body was recovered from the water and placed in a plastic body
bag after the good doctor had examined his injuries and pronounced him
dead. Volkov took my statement since I was the only person to see the bizarre
manner of Pavel’s death. He announced that we would take the body with us
to bury him after we crossed the marshlands and reached drier ground more
appropriate for interment.
In the final hours before we broke camp, Volkov, Petrowski, and Dubinin
conducted an official investigation of what had happened. They first
addressed the occurrence of colored lights in the night and hit on an old
explanation that might apply. That was the possibility that gases released
from the decomposing organic matter under the ground surface had formed
marsh gas, mostly methane, and it had been released. Such releases elsewhere
caused similar lights at night when the gases decayed or were allowed to burn
slowly. The United States and USSR used this explanation frequently during
the frenzied period when lights and UFOs were reported in so many places in
the 1950s and 1960s.
Many people in camp found this explanation wholly inadequate.
Igor insisted that he should take a patrol into the marsh in the areas where
the lights were seen to determine if there was any trace of animal movements
or bloody evidence from Nina’s shooting in the night. He set out from the
camp at 4:00 a.m. with a team of six heavily armed guards and spent nearly
an hour at it. When they returned to camp, they requisitioned Volkov, Lada
Pavlova, Dubinin, and me to accompany them back to one location in
particular. It was the location where Sergei and Pavel had first seen the lights.
“There.” Igor pointed with his rifle. “There are animal tracks.”
There was a huge paw print on the ground the size of the one we had seen
near our camp a few days ago. It was a wolf print nearly a foot long and
deeply pressed into the soft ground. We looked around and found several
more prints that could have come from the same animal or another of similar
size. Lada photographed the prints, and we all milled around the area. In
doing so, we found an open hole in the ground that contained unfrozen water.
There were wolf prints in the mud around the hole, like an animal had come
up to the hole to drink, typical for watering holes in the wild where potable
water was in short supply.
“You can see that a wolf, maybe several, came here to drink. There are
tracks coming and going through the marsh there.” Lada pointed at what
looked like a well-worn animal trail that led into the marsh. “Maybe the
wolves came to drink in the night and our camp surprised them. Maybe their
weight helped release some marsh gas when they came walking here. They
are quite heavy, you know.”
When she said this, I noticed that small gas bubbles were rising to the
surface of the water in the hole. There was an odor of rotting, sulfurous
vegetation surrounding us. I thought, Maybe it was marsh gas after all. And
the weight of the wolf released it.
“But wait,” I said. “We’re missing something here.” I looked all around
us and saw that everywhere we stepped, we left imprints. “Why is the ground
so soft here? Why is it thawing out so early?”
We all looked down at the soil. It was true the ground was getting soft on
the surface. And we could see in the water hole that there was water
underneath the surface layer of soil and vegetation. I asked, “Are we on a
warm spring area? Or is the spring thaw coming much faster than we
expected here?”
“Khristos! Either the thaw has come early or the whole area is underlain
by a warm spring,” Dubinin shouted. “We have to get out of here.”
“We head back to camp now,” Volkov commanded. “We must break
camp and leave.”
We started back to camp at a fast clip, with Igor leading the way and
Nina trailing behind to provide cover. If the wolves had come here in the
night, they could still be in the area. At camp, Volkov announced we were to
break camp immediately and get moving. Everyone set to work at their
assigned task, except poor Pavel. His body bag was placed in the fuel unit
where there was space.
By 6:00 a.m. we were already moving, taking advantage of thinning fog.
We were able to make up some of the time we had lost the day before and
kept going past our normal lunchtime. When we did stop, Volkov made his
usual survey of the containers and straps while Igor and Andre tested the
temperature of the ground along the side of the convoy. They found that the
ground temperature at five inches’ depth was just below the freezing point.
The ground was thawing faster than expected in this area as well, a sign of an
early spring. There were a few places where the ground was warmer still and
where water was seeping to the surface. A few of those areas were extremely
soft, suggesting that a man could fall through the bog surface into water, as
had happened to Pavel last night.
“So poor Pavel just happened to be on one of those weak spots and broke
through. He would have been okay if he hadn’t touched the electric fence.”
Irina summed up what we knew about his death. “What an awful way to die.”
“The doctor said he probably died within seconds because of the strong
current and the complete grounding. It’s too bad; I liked him. He was a nice
fellow,” I lamented.
The day elapsed without incident. We drove a very long time, until 8:00
p.m., allowing us to cover thirty-two miles in one day. This was possible only
because the fog was lighter than usual all day. If we hadn’t needed to refuel, I
think Volkov would have pushed to go another two hours. But by that time
we were all exhausted. Setting up camp took longer than usual because
people worked slowly from fatigue.
We also encountered some large bones in the soil at two locations as we
drilled in the steel posts for the perimeter fence. Lada came to investigate
what sort of animal the bones were from and concluded they were dire wolf
remains. We all now referred to them as dire wolves. Volkov seemed upset
by this turn of events and said we might have to move our camp. He refused
to let Lada keep samples. After some consideration, he decided we were too
far along with camp construction to relocate. But the presence of the bones
seemed to worry him. We ate dinner at nine thirty, and nearly everyone
crawled away to bed soon after that.
 That night, Volkov doubled the guard during the darkest hours, from
11:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m., the time when it seemed the wolves were most
emboldened to investigate our camp. The guards complained because they
had all been up since 2:00 a.m. the previous night, and some of them had
driven most of the day as well. Volkov volunteered to take one of the
overnight posts himself as a demonstration of his esprit de corps. That
satisfied the objecting parties.
We all turned in and tried to sleep. The three of us in my quarters talked a
little while, but soon my companions fell to the temptations of slumber. I
alone sat awake and decided to read in Journal X to see what lay ahead, now
that I had found some privacy.

May 16
We made good progress today crossing the marshlands. It seems that we are rising up in elevation, and
that makes the fog a little less impenetrable. We had indications that we were followed by some animal,
perhaps one of the dire wolves, but we did not actually see it. At times like this, I wish I had brought a
couple of dogs with us so they could alert us to any dangers we ourselves could not perceive.
We have little idea of where we really are now. The compass has been of no use here, perhaps because
of the presence of the iron meteor beneath us. Once today, I consulted it and found that it rotated
around 164 degrees just as I walked from one side of camp to the other. Another time it just spun
around in a circle on its own. I checked with Max, and his compass has shown the same lack of
direction as mine.
I thought that magnetic rocks might present difficulty on this trip, so I brought a handheld GPS unit for
additional navigational aid. It has worked well until now, when it seems to be unable to find more than
one or two satellites upon which to calculate our position. We should be able to locate at least three
satellites here, if not four in the open areas. There seems to be interference somehow that I can’t
explain.
Before we left on the expedition, I had researched the correct GPS values for the four locations we
were likely to visit and had tested my GPS unit at these locations to verify that my instrument was
working. Those locations were as follows: Yakutsk, Irkutsk, Zyryanka, and Moscow:
59.91749254,30.04488093; 52.31929546,104.28328652; 65.76742689,150.70115690;
55.41030998,37.90026265; 47.39690773,8.46917731.
Note that I recorded these at higher resolution than usual. The last two digits of each will be of value at
some future time.
I made some measurements today just as an indication of the amount of error we might have in our
instrument readings. That is, if we can call up the right number of satellites at all. Unfortunately,
without a working GPS unit, I could not make useful comparisons.
I showed the problem to Max, but he said he didn’t expect to rely on GPS anyway. He was using the old
field methods developed for combat conditions that he had learned at the academy. They were
serviceable in any conditions and did not require any outside point of reference, although he said it
would be nice to see the stars at least once on this trip, if only to know they were still up there above us.
We ran across a hot spring today in the marsh, apparently a side effect of the volcanic activity in this
area. Max was concerned that we might run into one of them while traveling and possibly lose a sledge
in a soft area. So far we have been lucky.

I awoke during the night, realizing I had dozed off while reading. It was
completely dark now, indicating that it was probably after midnight. I tried to
remember where I was in the journal . . . Oh yes. Hot springs. So they had
encountered a hot spring last year. But why didn’t Max say anything about it?
And why were there five sets of coordinates? It seemed that he was still
keeping some information to himself.
As I rested my eyes, there was a bright flash of blue-white light from the
other side of the camp. Just a flash, then it was over. There was a yelp and
some shouting from the guards but then nothing else. What was happening?
Maybe some wolf had shown up after all. With my boots, coat, and hat, I
squeezed past my sleeping companions, who were dead to the world, climbed
out of the cab, and carefully closed the door behind me.
The ground was covered by about four inches of fresh snow, a surprise to
me even though it had turned cold during the night. I walked out to T1 and
knocked on the door of the cab where tonight Maxim was monitoring the
sensor array. He waved me in, so I sat next to him to talk.
“I thought I saw a flash of light a few minutes ago. What happened? Was
there an arc in the fence again?” I let him take his time responding because he
was interrupted by a call on the radio.
When he finished, he said, “Andre thought that something came up to the
fence and got a shock from it. He is waiting for Ivan to join him to inspect the
fence.”
“Did you see anything on the sensors?”
“Yes, there was something. It showed movement but no heat detection. If
it was a wolf, we should have measured a thermal detection too.”
Asking where the incident had taken place, I left T1 to walk carefully
over to that sector of the fence to see what was happening. I arrived just as
Ivan and Andre were inspecting the wires. Not needing to get too close, I just
called out to them so they knew I was nearby and wouldn’t shoot me by
mistake. There was the huge imprint of a large wolf’s head and shoulders on
the wires where the animal had come in contact with the electricity. It had
created a silhouette of burned fur on the wires, some of it still smoking. The
smell of singed hair was in the air.
Ivan and Andre took a photo of the wires, for what it was worth in the
poor light, then joined me where I was standing away from the fence.
This was the first chance I had of talking with these two guards. Ivan was
a tall blond fellow with a flattop haircut, a wide friendly face, and the bluest
of blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with some unseen happiness. He joked
with Andre as we stood there in the cold. Andre seemed like any ordinary
soldier, experienced and alert.
Andre said, “I heard something yelp like an injured dog at the time of the
flash. Maybe a wolf got too close to the fence and ran away after getting his
ass burned.” He put his hand on his butt and pulled it away as he made a
sizzling sound. We all laughed at his demonstration and didn’t notice Volkov
come up beside us.
“So a wolf came to test the fence? That is not good.” Max finished
buttoning his older wool campaign coat.
As he did so, I noticed that Andre had a lot of snow built up on his coat
from standing outside on guard duty. “You know, I stopped to talk to Maxim
on my way here. He said that he didn’t see any heat signature for a wolf, but
he did detect motion. I wonder if the wolf had enough snow on his back that
it neutralized him as a heat source?”
Volkov spun around to look at me. “He didn’t see its heat? That could be
a problem on snowy nights. We may have to recalibrate the sensors to
improve detection.” He took Ivan with him to inspect the fence where the
wolf had made contact, leaving me alone with Andre. “You didn’t see
anything before that? No motion?”
“No. But I did sense that something was nearby. I don’t know what it
was, but I felt like I was being watched.” He looked at me for understanding.
“You know that feeling you get when someone is watching you but you don’t
really know it until you look up and they are there?” He indicated a direction
with the barrel of his rifle. “I felt that something was out there by the fence,
but I didn’t see it until the fence lit up. Then I saw the outline of the wolf.”
He looked away as if hiding his face from me. “It scared the shit out of me.”
We stood there awhile in silence. Then he marched off to bravely retake
his station along the east side of the camp. I wandered back to my quarters
and crawled into my sleeping bag with my damp clothes on. I couldn’t sleep,
so I determined to read about the second contact with wolves on May 20 last
year in Journal X.

The attack came during the darkest hour. We increased our guard for the night to six men on lookout
with their AKs ready. At that point, everyone had taken a shotgun or rifle to bed in case of an attack.
Max was also on the perimeter, which encouraged the men. Veruschka volunteered to stay up and make
hot tea for the guards to help them stay awake in the night.
We improved the layout of our tractors and sledges to provide fewer gaps through which wolves could
enter the camp. We even positioned one man on top of one of the tractors to scan the full boundary for
any movement, but that was not enough. That man was Balov, Max’s assistant, and he was able to give
us warning that there were as many as twenty wolves scouting around in the marsh nearby. Max shot
the flare gun in the air. The flare seemed to catch the wolves off guard, something they had never seen
before. So they backed off for a while, seeming to recalculate their approach. The flare roused the
entire camp.
Max spent time over the last two days preparing for another attack, showing people where they would
stand if we had time to prepare a defense, establishing fields of fire, and that sort of thing. It might
have helped, but we still didn’t know they were upon us until they entered the camp perimeter. Three of
the beasts attacked at once, each through a separate gap with precision timing, something that in
hindsight displays a high level of reasoning and communication.
They each singled out a guard to take down and did it so quickly that each man only got one or two
shots off before being clamped in those iron jaws. The rest of the guards, at least the ones who had seen
some combat before, reacted quickly and fired into the attackers with devastating effect. One wolf died
immediately, and one, being badly wounded, ran out of camp. The third turned on Max and would have
killed him if he hadn’t stood his ground and pumped shotgun round after round into the animal’s chest.
The thing just wouldn’t die, but he was able to keep out of its jaws until it succumbed to its injuries.
We were so preoccupied with the first three wolves that the next three were upon us while we turned
our attention inward. They did great damage; one killed one of our botanists by nearly tearing him in
two. Several people shot that animal repeatedly. Another one mauled two guards before it ran from
camp wounded. The last of the three tore the head off Balov when he leaped to the ground in front of it
to protect Veruschka, who had no weapon. He got a few shots off, but he died all too quickly. Then they
were gone.
We had three dead and three badly mauled by fangs of a huge size. Our doctor fought all night to
repair the damaged bodies, but by dawn another man had died. Max took the lookout position and
spotted a wolf that had us under observation all day. We spent the day preparing for another attack,
reloading all weapons, repositioning tractors as best we could.
We needed to stay in the same location for two days while our doctor nursed his patients who he said
could not be moved, so delicate was their condition. And through it all we retained the bodies of two of
the great dead beasts in our midst, too massive for us to move beyond the camp boundary, but not so
much that we couldn’t use them to reinforce our defense with their bodies.
The next night we suffered another attack, but it seemed to be more of a probing mission to see how
badly they had harmed us the night before. Two wolves entered camp, one of which spotted where we
retained their comrades and trotted over to sniff them. It seemed he had come to find out whether they
were alive. Then they retreated after we peppered them with multiple 7.62 rounds. One was badly
injured but limped away.
The next day, one of the injured guards died slowly and painfully, causing our doctor nearly to have a
breakdown after all his attempts to save him. We ran out of drinking water and had to send two men to
a nearby water hole we had dug. By some miracle, they were not attacked.
We faced our next night in the marshlands wondering if it would be our last.
 CHAPTER 17
Northern Edge of the Marshlands
May 22

We bumped our way across the remainder of the marshlands in two days’
time, aided by strong winds that helped lift the fog and improve visibility. A
sledge mired down in a boggy area, but we were able to pull it clear by use of
two extra tractors with cables. After that, we found we could avoid the worst
areas if the snowmobile ran ahead and spotted a route for us. The use of the
snowmobile was considered dangerous, but we were blessed with no more
wolf sightings during our travel.
It was almost a religious experience to finally see the end of the marshes
and the prospect of dry land that rose as a terrace above the wetlands. Igor
announced his sighting of the terrace at the end of the day, and a cheer burst
out over the intercom from all the vehicles. For Irina, Yuri, and me, it had
been twelve days of onerous travel, but for the rest of the staff, it had been
twenty-one days since they had arrived in Zyryanka and were essentially
camped out with the convoy. They had done the shakedown of the equipment
and practiced camp construction during those extra days.
Irina and I kissed on the occasion. Yuri scowled at me and gave Irina a
hard look. We realized that our affection for each other was not a surprise to
Yuri or Mikhail. I expected that Yuri knew of our affair because he had
witnessed its early stages in Saint Petersburg. But I did not know that Mikhail
was aware of it. Perhaps Yuri had mentioned it in passing since the two men
had spent much of the last several days together, often sitting with each other
for meals, sharing a bond. In any case, Yuri stared at me and gave me a
menacing look. He seemed to resent my familiarity with Irina.
I thought Mikhail was a model of the professional soldier—calm,
dedicated, and skilled. He was a tall dark-haired man like Igor, clean-shaven,
with blue eyes and a face that was hard to describe, except that he smiled
frequently when I talked to him. I wasn’t sure what else to think of him at this
point. I just hoped he and the others kept us safe.
It was during our travels that I overheard some of the guards discuss their
past experience and general small talk that drew my attention. Several of the
guards smoked after dinner outside the toilet unit, on the downwind side. I
had brought some small cigars with me on the trip and would occasionally
join them for a short smoke. Usually this worked out well and I was accepted
into their little conclave, where a lively conversation would result. Sometimes
it was clear that some of the men wanted to smoke in privacy. On those
occasions, I would shift over to the office unit and give them their space. This
was where I learned a little bit of background about a few of the men. Both
Yuri and Mikhail liked to smoke Turkish cigarettes together, and sometimes
they joined the others for companionship.
I found out they had both been in the FSB for a while after serving in the
army, where they had received similar training. It was one of the reasons
Volkov had hired Mikhail. The same was true of Yuri’s employment as a
bodyguard. Yuri said Volkov had recommended him to Boris as “a man who
could get things done.” The men laughed about that term like it meant
something special to them.
They met that night after dinner for a smoke outside the toilet/water
treatment sledge, where I happened to be inside checking the chemical levels
for the water treatment apparatus. I stopped moving to avoid making noise
when they approached the sledge.
What I heard sounded like the continuation of a previous conversation.
Mikhail asked, “So you were able to just have the car fixed? There were
no questions?”
“No,” Yuri answered. “These things happen all the time. If you run into
something, most people don’t really care about the details.”
“But you said there was blood.”
“Yes, maybe it was a dog I hit.” He laughed. “It was dark. I don’t
remember.”
Mikhail laughed. “Sure you don’t. But it is the job, yes? You must do
what you must do.”
Yuri didn’t say anything for a while, and I could hear them both
breathing in their tobacco smoke. “But it had to be done. He had something
that my employer wanted. I did what I could to get it, but the bastard must
have hidden it before he came to the square.” He laughed and made a rude
noise.
“You never got this item?”
“No.” Yuri sounded disappointed. “Soon after that I learned I was to
come on this fucking expedition. So there was no time to follow up.”
“Sounds like bad luck,” Mikhail said. “In the old days, you would not be
alive after such a failure.”
“You are telling me something I already know, my friend.”
Then I heard a harrumph and the sound of a foot rubbing a cigarette butt
into the dirt. “Let’s talk again tomorrow. Maybe we can get the boys to play
cards after dinner.”
“Cards? Not again. You are much too clever with cards, my friend. If I
am not careful, you will soon have all of my pay from this job.”
Mikhail laughed. “Okay. Let’s hope we hear of no wolves tonight.” They
walked away.
I waited a few minutes before I came out of the unit and made my way to
my quarters for the night. Volkov had extra men on duty along the fence,
even though I had assumed he would reduce our level of vigilance now that
we were no longer in the beleaguered swamp. The men were all tired from
the hectic pace of operations the last three days, and I was certain the guards
would want extra time off to recover. But I left it to his judgment as to when
we could let our guard down.
As I walked toward the kitchen, I saw Volkov standing on the tracks of
his tractor, T2, on the west side of the camp, looking out over the verge of the
marshland where it met the drier slope. He had his field glasses trained on
something in the distance. I asked if he wanted company.
“Yes, Grant,” he said. “Come up here and I will show you something
interesting.”
I climbed up the tracks and stood next to him. He passed me his
binoculars and pointed to an object at the edge of the marsh. “You see
something red there in the water? Right next to the bushes?”
I scanned the area and located a red rectangular object in the water. It was
part of a snow crawler much like we were driving, largely submerged in the
swamp. “Yes, I see it. What is it doing out there?”
“That is the machine I used to escape from Zona.” He sighed. “I drove it
here from the pass and then got it stuck in the swamp.”
“So that’s as far as you could go. Wow!” I said and handed him back his
binos. “It must bring back some awful memories.”
“Yes, it is a dark time in my past. All I can do is be content that I lived to
reach civilization.” He looked at me and laughed lightly. “And thank God for
reindeer herders.”
It was a pleasant evening, so I asked, “I might have a cigar and enjoy the
view. Will you join me in the bad habit?”
“Why, yes, I will.” I handed him one of my Robustos and we both lit up.
“These are quite good,” he said. “Are they Cuban?”
“No. Even in Russia the Cubans are too pricey. These are Dominican, but
the seed is Cuban.”
“Very good. Excellent.” Volkov smiled and made an expansive sweep of
his hands. “I must be crazy to return here. I barely survived last time.”
We stood there for a half hour talking about his experience and how he
had made his escape alone across the marshes. He explained that the
expedition had taken two small sampling boats, shaped like canoes, and he
thought ahead to bring one with him from the pass during his escape. It had
saved his life because he could float across parts of the marsh and bog then
use it as a sled through the tundra.
Volkov pointed to some low table-like mountains in front of us. “These
form a lava plateau that surrounds this side of Zona. We must travel north
around the west side to get to Sheba Pass and enter Zona along its north side.
That is where the pass allows entry into the crater itself.”
I viewed the rugged mountains ahead. “It is easier to go around them to
the pass?”
“Yes, we could not drive our tractors through that jumble of rocks. It’s
better to take the grasslands around on open ground.” He puffed on his cigar
and looked optimistic, then continued, “There are a number of items that
remain in the pass that we might be able to salvage when we have reached the
other side. We will have to see if any of it has been disturbed.” He looked at
me somberly. “I wish I had stayed and looked more for Randall. It will
always haunt me.”
I looked him in the eye and put my hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You’re
risking your life right now to help me look for him. You didn’t have to
choose this, but you’re doing the right thing. Without you there would be no
hope of finding out what happened to him and the other survivors.”
“Yes. But I owe it to them to come back. It is a debt.”
“Max,” I said seriously. “You’re now relieved of your debt.”
“Soon, my friend. I hope soon.”
***
I undressed and crawled into my sleeping bag to read. I pulled out my bottle
of brandy and passed it to Petrowski, who gladly accepted and told me about
his day of travel through the mists, an uneventful tale to be sure. Then
Dubinin complained that he was trying to sleep, so we cut off our
conversation, and he and the doctor were soon snoring.
I couldn’t fall off that quickly tonight, perhaps because of what I had
overheard from Yuri. If I took what he said literally, he had hit a dog with the
car the night it was damaged at Saint Isaac’s Square. But he had said earlier
that the car was struck by another vehicle while parked. And now he said
there was blood. On the fender of the car from hitting a dog? Why wouldn’t
he have said that at the time? Of course, if he had been drinking, he wouldn’t
want to admit it happened while he was drunk. And the man on the square he
mentioned. Could he have meant Godunov?
I finished the journal entry about the wolf attacks.

The last night in that camp, we began to plan our escape for the next morning. We were in the process
of loading what we could on board sledges when the final attack came. This time we huddled together
on one side of the compound so that we could concentrate our fire on the beasts when they entered
camp. To our surprise, more than a dozen wolves charged us at once, but only a few of them attacked
us. The majority of the wolves devoted themselves to lifting the bodies of their fallen comrades up with
their teeth and dragging them off into the night. When they achieved that goal, the remaining animals
fled in the same direction the entourage went. We ceased fire at that point because many of us had run
out of ammunition.
At daylight, we buried our dead after a brief but tearful service, loaded up our camp, and, as a last
thought, left the wolf skeleton we had collected on the ground next to our fallen heroes. Then, with no
further ado, we drove like dervishes north for three days, stopping only to refuel and do the most basic
of necessities. At the edge of the marshlands, we saw the beginnings of low mountains that surround
Zona itself.
As we drove along, I puzzled over the behavior of the wolves. They had risked death to recover the
bodies of their fallen brothers. That suggests a level of society that has not been attributed to wolves in
the past, even though they are known to be strongly communal and family oriented. I wondered what I
had just witnessed. I will have to make a study of these creatures if we ever have the chance to do so.

I fell into a troubled sleep filled with dreams that struggled past me in quick
succession. The images of a stack of playing cards flashed before my eyes,
like when someone riffles the cards so that you see a fleeting image of each
one. They went by so quickly that I couldn’t focus on a single card. It
happened over and over, but each time the speed was somewhat reduced, and
I could make out an occasional individual card image. A jack of clubs, then a
queen of hearts, and finally a ten of clubs.
Then the dream changed, and a set of Roman numerals paraded past me
in sequence up to ten, designated as a single X. Then the card deck flashed
before my eyes again, more slowly this time, and I saw a king of diamonds
followed by a jack of spades.
I woke up in the dark and realized that a wind had come up that now
buffeted the cab of our tractor. Reaching up, I rubbed a hole in the frost that
usually covered the window from our breath on cold nights. But tonight there
was no frost, only moisture. I saw a single star shining through a hole in the
cloud cover. So it is true. Spring has finally reached Zona.
On that happy thought, I fell back asleep but was once again trapped in
the same dream I had experienced before. Now I saw the king of clubs next
to the queen of hearts with her red hair, and they were laughing. Now the
characters showed partial faces, but I couldn’t recognize them, even though
they looked familiar. Then the king turned to another card, the jack of spades,
who now had a face with a mustache that drooped down around a narrow
mouth. They both smiled at each other; then all three seemed to smile at me. I
smiled back but realized they were not really looking at me, but at someone
behind me. I turned to see who it was and found that it was the king of
diamonds, wearing a luxuriant reddish beard and laughing. Then the deck of
cards riffled past me, showing the same cards, but this time the numbered
cards looked different. Instead of the usual Arabic numbers, they were now
numbered with Roman numerals. They kept flashing by me over and over. It
was like a nightmare, replaying. I thought I must be missing something. Then
the face of the jack of clubs began to look familiar, with a neatly trimmed
mustache. He smiled at me, and I noticed the ten of clubs was written with a
Roman X.
I woke up.
The hair on the back of my neck began to tingle. I felt that I was being
watched. I raised my head to observe that my sleeping companions were still
dead to the world. I crept up and rubbed a viewport in the moist window but
could see nothing but darkness outside. All was quiet, but I still had the weird
feeling that someone was watching me or that something was about to
happen.
I quietly unzipped my sleeping bag and pulled on my pants, boots, and
coat. I put the Makarov in my coat pocket and grabbed my small flashlight.
Inching past the doctor, I slid out the door of the cab and stopped to listen
while standing on the tracks of the vehicle. There was a soft hissing noise
coming from the other side of the tractor, the side toward the fence. There
were no other sounds from the camp, but the smell of burning hair drifted to
me. Oh shit!
I shuffled around the cab of the tractor and looked at the ground near the
fence. I saw movement there next to one of the fence posts. My pulse shot up
and I stopped breathing. Holding the Makarov in my right hand, I fished the
small flashlight out of my pocket with my left and switched it on.
I looked down on the massive furry gray head of a dire wolf that was
crawling on his belly under the lowest wire of the fence. His shoulders were a
third of the way under the wire. He looked up at me with malevolent gray
eyes and sneered at me as he let out a low growl that set all my hair on end.
As he did so, he moved just enough that his hair began to get singed by
current, and a thin curl of smoke rose from his coat.
We were fixed in our positions, staring at each other for a few moments,
perhaps both wondering what we should do next. He was crawling under the
wire at a point where the fence post had not been driven all the way into the
ground, maybe because the installation crew had hit bedrock on the terrace
we occupied. That left the wire about two feet off the ground, enough that the
wolf could just barely squeeze under like a big dog through a too-small
doggy door. As I shined the light in his face, he lowered his head and began
to creep back under the wire. I wished he would leave and I would not have
to shoot him. Why? I don’t know.
I fired the Makarov in the air, and the wolf hurriedly pulled himself back,
burning the top of his head as he bumped under the wire. He yelped and
disappeared into the night.
Within seconds the sound of chaos emanated from the vehicles around
me. The guard Regina ran up to T4 and shouted, “What the hell’s going on?
Who fired that shot?”
“Over here!” I cried. “A wolf tried to crawl under the wire. There must be
an attack.”
She got on her mic immediately and called her supervisor to turn on the
klieg lights. Very shortly, the whole outer boundary of the camp was dazzled
by white light. People came out of their sleeping quarters in various stages of
dress. Nina, who was off duty, ran out of one of the tractor cabs buttoning up
her uniform shirt, braless and followed closely by Maxim, who was pulling
up his pants. Other people were pulling on coats and boots as they grabbed
their weapons and took up defensive positions.
“Wolves on all sectors of perimeter! All sides. Prepare to repel attack.
Repeat, prepare for attack,” came over the intercom. “Motion on all sides
now. Heat sensors positive.”
Volkov came on the system. “Man the heavy guns now. Fire flares!”
Following that command, flares were fired on all four sides of the camp
to illuminate the areas farther back from the fence line, beyond what the klieg
lights could reach. There were shouts of fear and recognition as guards and
scientists alike saw the number of huge dire wolves that surrounded the
camp.
Before anyone could take his planned position, the wolves attacked.
Four dire wolves charged the east side of camp, which had the fewest
men standing guard. The four concentrated their charge on one panel of the
fence, running at full speed and then lunging at the wires. When their bodies
hit the fence, there was a fantastic current discharge, and at first it looked as
though the animals would be repelled by sheer electrical force. But they hit
the wire at speed, the wire bowed inward, and posts bent under the strain. The
power failed in that sector of the fence. Then the fence snapped back upward,
and two of the wolves were thrown backward from the camp. But two gray
wolves broke through the wire, and even though they were stunned, they
came into the camp and attacked anyone they encountered.
This was where the professionals showed their measure, standing their
ground and firing relentlessly into the wild beasts. Max, Ivan, and Mikhail
were in positions to fire heavy slugs from their shotguns into the animals’
heads and chests. Both of the big grays were shot dead within a minute.
A second wave of wolves charged the fence, and now that it was knocked
nearly flat, they simply jumped over to attack the frightened defenders. Fire
from the AK-74s was inadequate to stop the line of eight monsters that
entered camp. The animals savaged everyone they encountered, ripping and
shredding people as they advanced, barely responding to the lighter weapons
fired into them at near point-blank range.
Somehow I knew that it would be a concentrated attack on one side of
camp. The east side seemed logical since it was on the side with high ground
nearby and the best grassland cover. How did I know this? I seemed to think
a bit like these beasts. I know not why.
I ran toward the office unit to find Irina, who had been sleeping there, and
who, I knew, would be terrified. Why did I have this instinct to protect her on
this night? I don’t know. I just did what I needed to do, now armed with a
shotgun as well as my Makarov handgun.
I pushed around the corner of the toilet unit where two wolves were
shredding poor Olga into bits of sushi. I fired five rounds into one massive
head while the animal was preoccupied and ducked back around the corner to
reload. When I turned back to shoot again only one wolf remained. I fired
three more rounds into that beast and it ran off. Next I found Marta Pankin, a
woman I had neglected to spend time with so far on this trip, in a fight for her
life as she unloaded her AK into the side of a monster that held her in its
powerful jaws. She fought valiantly in her last moments but died before she
could have much effect on the beast. I emptied my shotgun into the head of
that animal and watched it die. I desperately fumbled for my last shells to
reload my gun.
I heard the 12.5 machine guns open up on the perimeter, cutting a swath
through the attacking wolves, tracers aglow as they marched through animal
after animal. But these weapons couldn’t be trained on the fight that ensued
in the heart of the camp. And chaos reigned there. Twenty men and women
fought against the fiends of hell with rifles, shotguns, and whatever they
could lay their hands on with such short notice.
I made it to the office and found Irina inside, cowering behind a table that
was turned on its side as a barrier. She held an antiquated Colt revolver in her
hand, .45 caliber, good for stopping aborigines but inadequate for dire
wolves.
A wolf was inside, Ivan’s leg in his mouth, thrashing Ivan’s lifeless body
back and forth against the wall. I entered the unit with my shotgun hot from
abuse and pumped my last two slugs into the creature’s head at close range. It
dropped to the floor with a crash.
I ran to Irina, who was hysterical, screaming and shaking like a deranged
child. I grabbed her and dragged her from the building, fearing that inside we
would be trapped and disemboweled without mercy. We slinked outside
along the side of the office structure, away from the heart of the battle to the
vicinity of T1, where Igor was laying down a fury of 12.5mm lead and tracers
that were stopping the influx of wolves from the outside.
I took an ammo belt from the deformed body of Sergei, who had fallen
bravely, and reloaded my pump shotgun. Irina held an AK in her hands now,
but she fired ineffectually into the mêlée at random, perhaps hitting friend,
perhaps foe. I took the rifle from her.
The fighting ceased, and the last few of the wolves retreated back over
the wire and into the night. I looked around me and saw the utter devastation
wrought by the vicious onslaught. Bodies of people and animals were
intertwined in death struggles and chaos, blood everywhere. People moaning
or screaming, in all states of abuse and dismemberment. I was at once
sickened but relieved that the wolves had retreated.
Then, without warning, one fierce animal confronted me, shaggy and
gray, gray eyes dominant, a nasty burn on his head, staring me down as I
tried to protect a struggling Irina, who was shrieking with uncontrollable
terror. We caught each other’s eye briefly. I prepared to fire my last rounds
into the beast when there was a flicker of recognition in us both. Withholding
my fire, the wolf stopped his approach. We stared at each other for a second,
and I knew he would not continue his attack. He, likewise, relaxed and
backed off. Within seconds he was gone over the fence and into the night.
I couldn’t believe that battle so fierce and intense could end so abruptly. I
stepped forward to get a better view of the camp and saw that it was true: the
battle had ended. In the gun turret, Igor stood and surveyed the scene, then
smiled down at me, saying quietly, “It’s over. They have gone.”
It was the moment when people might look around after a battle and
cheer, but there was nothing to cheer about. I walked to where Irina stood
against the wall of the office, fists clenched, hair disheveled, and face
contorted in fear. Her emerald eyes were glazed over with horror. I put my
arm around her and pulled her to me. Placing her chin on my shoulder, I
hugged her a long time as she slowly emptied her tears onto my collar. Soon
the trembling slowed, and she looked up at my face. We knew then that it
would be all right for us.
Volkov ran up to us and checked that we were okay. “Where is Yuri?” he
asked.
“He’s in the office,” Irina blurted. “He was bitten.”
Volkov and I trotted to the office and rushed inside. Yuri was lying on
the floor behind the table barrier with a badly mauled arm to which he had
apparently applied his own tourniquet. He was unconscious. His empty
shotgun lay at his side.
“He tried to defend me.” Irina broke down in tears again.
Volkov took command of the situation. “Stop crying. There is work to
do.” He looked around wildly at the scene. One huge dead brown wolf
dominated the room, and parts of Ivan’s body were strewn about the floor.
“You two will clean up this room for use as the hospital. I will send you help
to remove the wolf carcass. Gather up Ivan. We will put him in a body bag in
a minute. I must go to direct the others.” He marched out of the office.
Irina and I looked at each other. We were overwhelmed. She pulled up a
chair and sat on it for five minutes before she was able to help restore order
to the room. Meanwhile, I dashed over to Yuri and tried to get him to wake
up. The first aid kit on the wall provided dressing material, and I set about
wrapping his torn arm to stop the bleeding. With me foundering the tie off of
the bandage, Irina pushed me aside and took over. “I volunteered with the
Red Cross in the Ukraine once, so I can do bandages. You deal with poor
Ivan, please. I cannot stand to look at him like this.” Tears welled in her eyes,
but she tried not to look at the blood all around her.
I ran out of the office to find a body bag and some rope. When I returned,
four people had already arrived to help move the wolf. We tied the rope
around its two rear legs, and we all heaved like we were involved in a tug-of-
war. We dragged the animal out of the trailer and over close to the T1 tractor.
Then I walked reluctantly in with Kira, and we placed Ivan’s remains in the
body bag. We carried him outside and placed him at the end of the office
unit.
By that time Dr. Petrowski had arrived and asked Irina to help him set the
table back upright so he could use it as a triage table. “I have already seen to
the worst injuries in a preliminary way outside. It is terrible.” He grabbed me
by the arm. “Go into the kitchen in the back and bring the big box of
supplies. The one with the Red Cross on it.”
Then he shouted to Kira, “Kira, you help him. Find the plasma and whole
blood in the refrigerator. Then set up another table for my surgery. We will
need to do operations in the kitchen area.”
Kira and I ran out the door. We heard him order Tamara to set up the
surgery with our help. She was the only one on the expedition trained as a
field operating technician.
Wolves howled as the fog tightened its grip on our little outpost on the
marshlands. We prayed dawn would come soon.
 CHAPTER 18
Northern Edge of the Marshlands
May 23

The next two hours were chaotic, but daylight finally came. All injured
people were brought in for triage. Irina bandaged the few who were not badly
injured, and they in turn helped others who needed more attention. The
doctor put Yuri on his table first for inspection then examined each of the
other two seriously injured patients. Then he moved next door and began to
operate on the worst cases first: Victor, with a shredded leg, and Diana
Kozlova, who was missing an arm. Others who were less seriously injured
included Dr. Dubinin, Andre, and Yana Popova. Their wounds were not life-
threatening. Valeriya Bogdanova, the psychologist, was comforting everyone
in turn, patients and workers, and helped Irina with bandaging operations.
The uninjured guards, Igor, Maxim, Mikhail, Nina, and Regina, made up
the thin red line along the fence, manning the two gun turrets and marching
the fence, with Volkov on the sensor controls. Kira and Lada were assigned
by Volkov to reload and resupply all weapons first then collect the bodies of
our fallen comrades, lining up the body bags alongside Ivan’s body. They
collected Marta’s, Sergei’s, and Olga’s parts—a sickening task.
I made coffee for everyone at the back of the kitchen and delivered cups
to the guards on the fence line, as well as anyone who needed the stimulant.
For a while I served as the replacement for each of the guards so they could
rotate out for twenty-minute respites.
I was surprised when the indomitable Andre reported for guard duty,
having had his arm stitched up. He told me he was terrified but had a duty to
perform. I admired his spirit.
We spent the morning recovering from the attack. Someone made
breakfast while others cleaned up the grounds and washed down the office
unit and the temporary hospital when the doctor was finally done with what
he could do for his patients. Volkov oversaw the repair of the fence where it
had been pushed over and reset posts wherever there was the slightest gap
where a wolf could creep under the line. Then everyone took a turn in their
hammocks or in their sleeping quarters to get some rest, expecting that
tonight would be another horror.
We had killed five wolves during the night, and an untold number were
injured by our fusillade of bullets. We lined up all the carcasses in a row, and
Lada did an inventory with photos and measurements of each animal.
Throughout the day we had occasional sightings of wolves around the
camp. Each time the animal was about five hundred yards away, observing
our activities. These were scouts that kept an eye on us, perhaps planning
another attack or just seeing if we were going to move our camp. It made us
all very nervous.
There was a short discussion of what to do with the animal bodies, and I
suggested that we drag them out of the campsite onto the surrounding
grassland to prevent any problems with contamination or hygiene since they
would soon begin to decay in the open air. Volkov agreed with me
immediately, perhaps along the lines of the same argument, but I knew that
he also was aware of what had happened last year. One reason the wolves
kept attacking last May was because they wanted to recover their fallen
family members. At least that was what Randall had surmised after the fact.
If we provided the wolf carcasses willingly this time, maybe we could avoid
further conflict with the wolves.
Having made the decision, we set about implementing the deed. We
hooked up the bodies, one at a time, to a snowmobile and used it to drag the
wolves out about two hundred yards from the camp. It took about twenty
nerve-wracking minutes. When we finished the task, three wolves
approached to within three hundred yards to observe our activity.
We spent the rest of the day in camp, preparing for the worst and caring
for the wounded. We also carried out the sacred duty of burying our own
dead. We dug a large communal grave six feet deep within the camp
compound and laid our fallen friends to rest. Pavel, Ivan, Olga, Sergei, and
Marta lay side by side in plastic bags as the soil was pushed in over them.
Petrowski conducted the brief service, and Volkov praised them for their
deeds. We were surprised when he added a personal note about each of them
that gave meaning to their sacrifice. Nearly everyone had tears in their eyes,
even the guards who fought not to show their grief while standing on duty.
Five little orthodox crosses were firmly planted in the soil to mark their
graves in perpetuity. I was surprised to see that Volkov had brought not only
body bags on this expedition, but he had also had the foresight to bring
crosses to mark the graves.
During dinner, we found there were many empty seats, and that reminded
us of the fallen. Volkov ordered the empty chairs be removed on following
nights to prevent us from dwelling on their loss. Irina took soup to Yuri in the
adjacent structure where he, Diana, and Victor were recovering after their
surgeries. I stopped in and was surprised how alert Yuri looked after such a
severe injury. He assured us that he had suffered worse in Chechnya during
the fighting there.
We didn’t stay long because Diana and Victor still seemed subdued and
in shock. Diana was a slender woman with sandy hair and amber eyes, jovial
and friendly to all on the expedition. She seemed a little shy, and I wondered
how the loss of an arm would affect her when it sunk in that she would need
to wear a prosthesis. That would be hard on anyone.
I didn’t have a read on Victor, since he kept away from the scientists on
the trip and hung out with the guards. He was shorter than some of the other
men, muscular, with dark hair in a short functional style, as did many military
folks. He seemed to always be talking with Andre, with whom he bunked
much of the time. They were very close, and Andre came in to see him as we
departed.
After dinner, Volkov announced that we would break camp early in the
morning and move north around the west side of the mountains, which we
could just make out in the distance. He said we would cover about fifty miles
in a single day traveling across the gentle terrain of the grasslands. He
planned to circumvent the low mountains and bring us to Sheba Pass on the
northern rim. We would camp northwest of Zona the following night,
reaching a point just below the pass the night after that, then cross the pass in
daylight on the third day. We would then camp on the far side of the pass.
He explained that the pass itself was a very dangerous place where large
mountain lions were known to dwell. In his experience, we would have to
move through the pass as quickly as possible to avoid an encounter with the
large cats. He admitted he did not know what lay ahead on the other side of
the pass except for a short distance he had walked the previous year along the
mining road.
Later that evening, I stood with a few of the men smoking as darkness
began to close in. After the others dispersed to bed, I remained along the
fence having a second smoke, holding a fully loaded shotgun, and watching
the abandoned wolf carcasses we had deposited on that side of camp. As I
watched, Igor said over the radio, “Movement by the carcasses. Heat
signatures too.” I squinted to try to see better and finally trotted back to my
quarters to retrieve my binoculars.
Igor kept up a commentary of what he saw as Volkov ordered people to
readiness. “There are twenty-four wolves all bunched up by the dead bodies.
There is only a little movement.”
I watched in the low light to confirm what he reported. The wolves were
clustered around the dead ones, milling like they were getting organized.
Then I saw four of them use their mouths to get ahold of one body and lift it
in the air. The four then carried the dead fellow away, half carrying him and
half dragging him. Soon another body was being dragged away into the night.
And another. Then the last two were dragged away, and a single wolf
remained behind, surveilling our camp, perhaps as a rear guard to make sure
we didn’t interfere. Finally he turned and trotted off to catch up with the
retreating entourage.
I couldn’t believe what I had just seen: an organized recovery operation
by a wolf pack. Only then did I realize that Lada was standing at my side,
watching the wolves through her own binoculars. “That was remarkable,” she
said. “How did you know they would come back for the fallen? I’ve never
seen this behavior before.”
I lied and said I didn’t know they would come back. “But it makes some
sense if they are pack animals. They must have social ties, even for the
deceased. I read that even elephants mourn their dead.”
“Yes, but to collect their bodies and take them to a final resting place?
That suggests a social structure that we have only observed in animals of
higher intellect.” She turned to look at me in the darkness. “I wish we could
follow them and see where they take their bodies. I wonder if some of them
were mating pairs. Normally wolf packs have only one mating pair and all
others are offspring of one generation or another. Perhaps it is different for
these dire wolves.”
“That would suggest an even stronger bond between individuals in the
pair, but we just observed an organized activity that goes beyond an animal
mourning a lost mate. It is unusual.” I put my binoculars away in their case
and prepared to return to my quarters.
She grabbed me lightly by my arm. “I don’t believe you.” She smiled and
moved closer to whisper, “I think you expected them to come back. I think
you sensed something from that wolf you had the encounter with today. I
sensed it too, from a female who was about to bite me. She stopped suddenly,
like she knew I was afraid. I don’t know what it was. In that second it was
like we knew what each other was thinking.”
I pulled my arm free and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
We stood there alone, and she looked around furtively as if to see if we
were being watched. She touched my arm as she said, “I may have done
something foolish. Let me show you something.”
Lada led me over to the toilet sledge and undid the door to enter. I
followed her inside cautiously and closed the door while she reached up to
pull down a white sample bag from one of the storage bins inside. The bag
contained something heavy as she handed it to me. I untied the string that
closed one end and pulled out a two-foot-long bone. I was shocked and
nearly dropped it on the floor.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
Lada took the bone and turned it over in her hands. “I couldn’t help it. I
took one of the dire wolf bones from the posthole the other night.” She
looked up at me with concern in her face. Her eyes began to water. “I’m
afraid it might be sacred to them, the wolves. I may have robbed their burial
ground and caused all this trouble.”
I realized that what she had said might be true. The wolves had gone to
great lengths to recover the bodies of their dead. Perhaps they knew that Lada
had taken a bone from its resting place and wanted to recover it. That would
explain a lot.
“What should I do?” She looked up at me with tears dripping off her
cheeks. “I know now that I cannot keep it.”
“You’re damned right about that. You realize what this means, don’t
you? About the attack?” I muttered angrily. “And Volkov would never
understand.” I shook my head and took the bone from her. “We must find a
way to return it. But how?”
Lada looked at me, her tears receding, and a hopeful look came over her.
“Can’t we just put it outside the fence like we did the wolf bodies?”
It was clear to me what we had to do. “Come outside with me. I want you
to distract Andre while I dispose of the bone. Okay?”
Andre was patrolling the fence along the west side of camp when we
came out of the sledge. When I reassured her, Lada walked over and called
Andre to the south end of the fence line long enough for me to move close to
the wire. As they talked, I walked into the shadow next to T3. Then, when
Andre turned to look the direction that Lada had pointed, I heaved the bone
over the top of the fence. It cartwheeled in the air, like the bone in 2001: A
Space Odyssey, and landed in the grass on the outside of the fence. It landed
with a mild thud.
Andre noticed the sound and turned to see what had happened. I used that
moment to step out of the shadow and walk toward the kitchen unit. Andre
seemed like he would come over to ask me what I was doing, but Lada pulled
him back to continue their conversation. After a few minutes, Lada came over
to the kitchen to join me.
“It is done?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s done. I hope we can sleep better now.”
“I owe you now.” She stepped close and kissed me on the cheek.
I smiled. “I’m going to bed. We can talk more in the morning.” I walked
away as she said dobriy vyecher, good evening.
***
I didn’t sleep well again. At first, all the horrible images of the day came to
me, people and animals lying dead, the shooting, screaming, and fear. I
thought of Irina so terrified and alone, the large wolf poised to leap at her, the
horrifying death of Ivan before both our eyes.
Then I realized that in my quest to view the wolves return for their dead, I
had forgotten to say good night to Irina. I wondered if she was okay now or if
she was still gripped by fear.
 Then my dreams returned to the damn deck of cards, scanning before my
eyes, frustrating me with their elusive message. It rushed through the same
stages as last night, first the cards, then the Roman numerals, and finally the
king of diamonds and queen of hearts looking at me as if they were expecting
something from me. Then I saw the cards again. This time they were all
numbered in Roman numerals as they flashed by my eyes. Then the ten of
clubs. Then, in the far distance, I saw the king and queen of diamonds with a
small jack of diamonds nearby.
I turned away to try to leave the dream, but it wouldn’t let go at first,
cards flashing again and again. Then the scene changed to a view of my
uncle’s apartment. It was like I was walking through the place for the first
time. My view began with me using the key to unlock the front door, which
opened into the hallway. I then turned to the living room, scanning
everything and dwelling on the huge black marble fireplace mantel before
drifting into the kitchen. Then I was in the library by his desk, scanning the
shelves of books, the smaller ones behind the desk, then focusing on other
groups of books as I drifted around the room.
Then the dream changed again, and I saw his journal, volume ten, as it
drifted through the air, open with the pages riffling past my eyes just like the
deck of cards had done before. The pages ended, and I was looking at the end
of the journal, at the inside of the back cover where Randall had written an
inscription in pencil. I remembered seeing it while making the copies of the
journal because it seemed out of place. It was the first verse from an old
favorite poem of mine he had introduced me to as a child. He urged me to
memorize the entirety of Robert Service’s poem “The Cremation of Sam
McGee,” and we would recite it together in the old days.
What I remembered in my dream was that he had revised the first stanza
somewhat in his journal:

There are bizarre things done under the Siberian sun,

By the men who desire great wealth;
The Arctic trails have their special tales
That would test a man’s mind and health;
The Russian Czars have found brilliant stars,
But the richest they could ever be
Was that gem in the trough of Lake Baikal, I recovered a treasury.

He had written the poem at the base of the back cover’s liner, and the writing
was sketchy. I thought the liner paper must have gotten wet because it was
lumpy and caused the lettering of the poem to bump about. In my mind’s eye,
I could look at the page in my dream and see it clearly. The bumpiness
formed a pattern that looked familiar. Oh my God!
I woke up with a rush and must have said something out loud because the
good doctor shifted his position in bed and said a mild “Huh?” before falling
asleep again.
I dug out my flashlight and the photocopy of Journal X, hoping I was
thorough enough to have copied the front and back inner covers. I paged
impatiently to the end and was relieved to see that I had copied the inside of
the back cover. The copy was rather light in tone, but I could read the
penciled poem with some scrutiny and could just barely make out the pattern
that I remembered in my dream. It was like the pencil had ticked on the edge
of something that had been glued into the book’s inner lining. It was hard to
see on the copy, but with imagination, you could see the outline of a flat key.
A key with the shape of those used to unlock safe-deposit boxes. Holy shit!
I whispered out loud, “Uncle Randall, you old dog.”
He must have put the poem there knowing that I would be the only
person likely to look carefully at the thing. And that I might notice something
in the cover. So far so good. But what did the key belong to? And what was
in the box?
 CHAPTER 19
The Grasslands
May 24

The next day we traveled north on a course to intercept the Zona Mountains
at Sheba Pass. There were no map or GPS coordinates for the pass. We had
only Volkov’s sense of reckoning to guide our course. The weather was
unusually clear, and we could see the low mountains in the distance. There
was still a high thin cloud cover over the whole landscape allowing us to see
the sun as a bright but diffuse object overhead.
Volkov’s attitude radiated optimism because we were not completely off
track. He applied his military-style navigation again at that point, relying on
no external gadgets or satellites. He was happily occupied with the task.
We broke camp at 6:00 a.m. that day and formed up into a proper column
of machinery in no time at all. With dry weather and clear sailing, we made
good progress—up to six miles per hour on some stretches—and encountered
no shaggy beasts to delay us. Volkov assumed these circumstances had to do
with his overwhelming show of firepower yesterday that had turned back the
dire wolf assault.
I believed it was because of a meeting I’d had with the wolf leader that
morning. A meeting perhaps, but it was really more of an unexpected
encounter than anything else.
I had risen early after a bizarre night of clashing dreams that I still was
trying to decipher. I left the tractor cab having to go to the bathroom in the
worst way, so using the easiest means available, I crawled down from the cab
of our tractor boudoir to relieve myself close to the fence, where there was
relative privacy. The day began with a mild temperature, so I did not bother
to put on my coat or carry a weapon of any sort in the early dawn light.
In any case, I was engaged in the act when I realized I was not alone. I
looked out across the fence to see the gray wolf with the burned fur on his
head I had seen before the attack. He appeared to be waiting for me to emerge
from the vehicle and made a slight huff to get my attention. Nearly falling
over when I saw him across the wire from me, I finished my business
quickly. Somehow I was not afraid, perhaps because he was across the fence
from me and maybe because he did not pose a threat in attitude. I couldn’t be
sure, but I didn’t shout out and didn’t run.
We stood there looking at each other and seemed to have an
understanding. It was relayed by his eyes as he panted with his tongue out
and I stared with my hands up in front of me, palms toward him. I was
making an openhanded gesture, which is universally understood, by humans
at least, as having no aggressive intent. He lay down and kept looking at me,
an equally nonthreatening gesture. We both relaxed and held eye contact,
something you are not supposed to do with wild animals for fear of enraging
them with a visual challenge. But I know that with dogs it is different—it can
form a bond.
Our intrigue did not last more than one minute, but a calm feeling came
over me. I felt like I knew what the wolf was thinking. He was the messenger
for his clan, and he was telling me that they would not impede our travel
through their territory. Our two sides had somehow arrived at a peace, which
we secured by giving them back their dead the day before. He stood to go,
made a mild whine, then lifted Lada’s purloined wolf bone in his mouth. He
had found it in the grass. Then he simply trotted off into the grassland,
carrying the remnant of an ancestor with him. I sat on the tractor tracks,
unsure what had happened. Was this encounter just a dream?
I retreated inside and dressed for the day. Then I rushed over to talk to
Lada about her experience with wolves. She listened to me and said it was
not impossible that I had interpreted the meeting correctly, that the wolves
were letting us know they would leave us alone. She said she was extremely
jealous that it had happened to me and not her.
We walked over to talk to Volkov and he listened politely. Then he stated
that he intended to shoot any wolf that got within five hundred yards of our
convoy or camp. That was that.
In any case, we traveled peacefully all day with no wolf sightings or
sensor detections of any kind. At least not of wolves.
We traveled through a seemingly endless sea of grass and small shrubs
that must have looked like the tall grass prairie that the first American settlers
encountered on their way west in the mid-1800s. Not only was there
abundant grass with small streams dissecting the land here and there, but
there was wildlife galore. We first found roe deer of a large variety, in herds
that usually held twenty or more members. And we saw deer of unknown
varieties and elk-like creatures that were more than six feet high at the
shoulders. There were animals that from a distance looked like North
American moose but, upon closer inspection, with very different antlers, even
though they seemed to always be in wetland areas.
There were herds of bison. As far as I could tell, they were exactly the
same as the ones I had seen in the States, except that these were clearly larger
than the homegrown variety. They roamed across the grasslands in herds of
anywhere from fifty to one hundred. They carried the same burly, curled hair
on their shoulders as ones I had seen before. It was like these were animals
that had not crossed the land bridge to North America. They were not
bothered by our convoy in the least, simply moving aside when they needed
to avoid contact.
At the end of the day, we saw huge animals to our west that were of a
completely different nature. Through my binoculars, I could see their shape
but could not confirm their size. They were wooly mammoths that were in
the process of shedding their heavy winter coats. In fact, they were in a low
area dominated by large trees that the animals were rubbing against to speed
the shedding. They had long tusks on either side of their faces and articulate
trunks. They looked at first like furry African elephants, but these had a much
more pronounced hump. Compared to the bison that grazed between them,
they were more than twice as high if both were measured at the hump. Since
the bison were at least seven feet tall at the hump, that made the mammoths
over sixteen feet high.
Volkov resisted the entreaties by the biological staff to make a side trip
over to the area where the mammoths were staging. That was successful until
one of the tractors had to shut down for repairs and we were all immobilized
for an hour. Then Lada, Dubinin, Kira, and Yana forced him to let them take
the two snowmobiles on an excursion to at least photograph the huge
pachyderms. Lada argued that the snowmobile treads were robust enough to
be driven across the grassland without snow present as long as the terrain was
not rocky. And she pointed out that we might not be this close to a small herd
again anytime soon. Volkov relented but insisted they take two armed guards
with them, even though we were short of able-bodied warriors. He also
established strict time limits that all the scientists agreed to.
After one hour, it was clear that the time limits were violated, and Volkov
was furious. Dubinin played the gentleman and stood forward to take the
blame, claiming he had lost his lens cap and that was the cause of the delay in
returning. Volkov did not buy it in the least.
The end of the first day of grassland travel finished uneventfully, with the
camp established in record time and all defensive measures carried out to the
full. No sensor detections were made of wolves, and there had been no
sighting since the big gray fellow came to visit me that morning. I think I saw
him shadowing us at a great distance on our eastern flank, but I did not
mention it to Volkov.
We ate a good meal after praying for our fallen comrades’ souls, and
everyone was thankful for an uneventful day. We were all pleased to see that
Yuri, Andre, and Yana could join us for dinner, even if they didn’t stay long.
It cheered us up that some of our wounded friends were recovering.
Unfortunately, Victor’s leg had been severely bitten, and the doctor was
afraid that if it did not show improvement soon, he might be forced to
amputate. Diana was still in shock and could not accept that she had lost an
arm. Our psychologist, Valeriya, was spending time with her to work through
her grief.
I spent some time with Irina after dinner, trying to help her get through
the trauma of the last thirty-six hours and getting back to a normal
relationship for us. It was difficult.
“Grant,” she said. “I was so terrified when the wolf came into the trailer,
I couldn’t move. I just stood there screaming, even while Yuri tried to push
me behind the table.” She looked at my face to see my reaction to her
confession. “I was such a fool. I really thought I would be able to handle any
sort of dangerous situation before coming on the trip. I didn’t expect the fear
to be so vast and right there in my face . . . I couldn’t cope.”
“Irina, no one knows how they will handle fear until it is upon them.” I
put an arm around her, even though we were seated at the end of a table in
the office unit. I tried to joke about it. “Well, it isn’t like you have a seven-
hundred-pound wolf growling right up in your face every day, is it?”
“But you know”—she tried to smile—“I have always been intrigued by
wolves, even when I was a child. I was frightened by the story of Peter and
the wolf. I hated it when the duck was eaten alive by the horrible wolf.” Tears
formed in her eyes as she spoke. “I just wanted it to be all right and for the
hunters to be able to pull it out of the wolf’s mouth alive.”
“Yes, I understand.” I handed her another tissue for her stream of tears.
“In the Disney version of the story, the wolf couldn’t catch the duck, and it
hid in a tree. I guess we Americans didn’t want the duck to be killed either.
We want there to be a miracle or something so that there is hope in the end.”
She put her hand on my arm and, between tears, said, “It’s like with your
uncle. Somehow we still hope that he survived. But after seeing how cruel
these beasts can be, it is difficult to hope that he is alive.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Her comment about Randall caught me off guard.
Lada Pavlova, wearing blue jeans and a buttoned blouse in the warmer
weather, came over to sit with us as a few others vacated the office, going off
to hopeful slumber. She put a hand on Irina’s shoulder as she sat down. “How
are you doing, Irina? Have you recovered your nerves after that awful
attack?” She meant well. “I mean, I was terribly afraid too, but I have worked
with large animals before. So with me it was not new to be close to such wild
beasts.”
“I didn’t know you worked with large animals,” I said, “only that you
studied them at university.”
“Yes, it is true I studied them. But for some years I worked at a zoo in
Moscow as a veterinary technician.” She held her hands out with her palms
up, like “What could I do?” “I helped subdue lions, for Christ’s sake. It was
very dangerous, but no one else wanted to do some of the things I was forced
to do. I needed the money, and most of the animals were not so bad unless
they were sick. But, then, who is not cranky when they don’t feel well?” She
laughed and it was contagious.
“I wish I could have come with you today to see the mammoths,” I said.
“But I needed to stay here to help guard the convoy.”
Lada grinned, showing imperfect teeth between her lips. “It was really
something special today. I have worked with elephants, and you get to know
individual characters among them. They have very intelligent, sad eyes.” She
pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She looked around to see if anyone would
complain, but no one did. “It’s like they have seen it all before, and their eyes
shine with inner peace.”
“Was it like that today? Could you get close enough to see their eyes?”
Irina asked. “They must have been marvelous to see.” She looked down at the
table. “I wish I had gone with. But I was still afraid of . . .”
I pulled her closer and said, “Hey, it’s okay to be afraid. You’ll get over
it.”
“Oh yes. We will probably see more of the mammoths, so you will still
see them.” Lada tried to cheer Irina up. “And yes, we did get close enough to
see their eyes.” She looked around for a place to snub out her cigarette butt.
“Why don’t we go outside where we can smoke freely.” She looked at me.
“Don’t you want to smoke too?”
We stepped outside, and Lada lit my cigar as she lit her second cigarette.
“I will have to ration these, or I will run out by the end of summer.” She held
her Sobranie in the air to show what she meant.
“You were talking about the mammoths?” Irina coaxed Lada to say more.
“Oh, I was just saying that the mammoths were a lot like elephants. They
were too big to be bothered by us little humans, so they were not afraid.
Perhaps curious? Maybe that . . . But in their eyes I could see their wisdom.
Like they had seen many creatures come and go and merely observed us as
we observed them.”
“Wisdom?” I asked. “What kind of wisdom?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe what comes from living such a long life is that
you are not surprised anymore? Wisdom of how others behave, maybe? I
can’t really describe it.”
“I think I saw some of that in the wolf this morning.” I looked from Irina
to Lada, then took in a long draw of sweet tobacco smoke. “He had a look in
his eye that seemed to let me know what he was thinking. Maybe I saw his
thoughts just for a moment. Could that be?”
Irina stared at me. “You mean you saw a wolf this morning? When?”
“Yes, I held a tête-à-tête with him when I first got up. He was quite
friendly.” I saw a look of disapproval cross Irina’s brow. “I didn’t have time
to tell you until just now.”
“And what did this wolf tell you that was so important?” I sensed that she
was angry about something. “Something only you would understand?” she
asked, her mouth arcing down into a frown.
“Wait a minute.” I felt I must defend myself from some
misunderstanding. “What are you mad about?”
“Well, you seemed to know that the wolves would come back for their
dead. How did you know that? Did a lonely wolf tell you about it too?” Irina
looked at me with accusing green eyes. “How did you know? Max said you
knew they would come back. How?”
I was trapped now. I had read about the wolves coming back in Randall’s
journal and hadn’t told Irina about the copy. She was starting to suspect I had
secret information she did not have. Or was it the other way around? Maybe
she already knew but was surprised I knew. I thought of a clever way out of
the immediate danger.
“I think Max mentioned it to me once, or I overheard him telling
someone . . . Yes, that must be it. I heard it from Max.” I tried not to look
unsure if it would work, but she seemed to back off a little.
“But Max said that it was you who told him. How can that be? I don’t
believe you.” Irina made as if to walk away.
Fortunately Lada came to my rescue. “But I think I heard it from Max
before too, when I first agreed to come on the expedition. He was talking
about wolf behavior he had seen during the last trip. Yes, I think that was it.”
She stared right at Irina and took a long draw on her cigarette. “He’s right,
you know.”
“What do you mean?” Irina had her back up now and seemed ready to
argue. “You mean he can talk to wolves? What kind of wolf is that?”
“No, not talk.” Lada stubbed out her cig on the side of the sledge. “No. I
mean there are some animals you can get vibes from. I have had this happen
with some animals before too. It happens sometimes with dogs. Maybe it can
happen with wolves too.”
“That sounds like bullshit to me.” Irina was definitely angry now. Why?
“Even I felt it with one of the wolves last night.” Lada stood straight and
stretched her muscles. “A female confronted me and I thought I would die.
But for some reason it didn’t kill me. And believe me, it could have killed me
easily. I had a rifle but was not prepared to shoot it. It came at me too fast for
me to form that thought, kill. I think that is what saved me.”
“What are you talking about?” Irina got right in Lada’s face to shout.
“How could it tell what you were thinking? That is just bullshit.” She stood
right in front of Lada, her face just inches from hers, fists clenched, shoulders
tight.
Lada stepped backward. “No, it’s not bullshit. It’s real. Some people who
have been around animals a lot can sense things from them. That’s all.” She
set her face as if to argue. “Maybe it doesn’t work for you, but don’t call it
bullshit if you don’t understand.” Lada marched off in a huff and left Irina
and me to fight it out.
“You don’t believe that shit, do you?” She glared at me and came so
close I thought she would punch me.
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re so angry about.” I interrupted her tirade.
“I felt something when I saw the wolf yesterday and again when it came to
me this morning. Especially this morning. That is not bullshit.” I leaned into
her and said more softly, “You should stop calling it that.”
“What did you feel, then?” she sneered at me. “What did it do, tell you its
plans for the day?”
“No, Irina. It’s not like that. It somehow let me know that they would not
attack us again. I don’t know how, but I knew that.” I looked at her to see if
she believed any of what I was saying. “We understood each other. That’s
all.”
“I still don’t believe you.” She turned and walked away.
Shit. So much for romance, I thought. I finished my cigar and walked
over to my quarters, where I enjoyed a brandy nightcap with my buddies
Petrowski and Dubinin.
I told them what had happened to me and about my discussion with Lada
and Irina. Could we understand the beasts? Could they understand us? We all
agreed that these wolves were a very intelligent species. That could be good
or bad, depending on how the following days unfolded.
 CHAPTER 20
Below Sheba Pass
May 25

The next day was rather uneventful after the huge distance we had traveled
yesterday. We again traveled without incident through the grasslands, which
seemed to run on forever with stands of trees that became more frequent and
more majestic. We gained elevation as we arced toward the edge of the
northwest mountains and turned northeast. Taller grasses and more varied
plant species abounded, suggesting that there was more rainfall here. We also
noted that the air temperature rose markedly so that we were in a more
temperate climate than we had experienced only a few days before. Part of
this could be explained by the advancing spring, but much of the change was
likely caused by local geothermal conditions. In fact, measurements of air
and ground temperature indicated that the soil in this area was not underlain
by permafrost. That was in sharp contrast to everything previously known of
northern Siberia.
As a paleogeographer, a student of ancient landscapes and landforms, I
was unable to justify the landscape I was traveling through with any known
geologic analogs. In other words, I couldn’t explain it. It made sense that an
isolated volcanic landscape could influence local climate, but I had never
encountered such dramatic evidence in any published studies. It presented
many possible new ideas of how landscapes evolved as well as different
explanations of the geologic record.
Just imagine what could happen if there was a local hot spot that could
keep an area warm during the winter. If there was no freezing, then the whole
selection of plants and animals that could live there would be different from a
four-season climate. If there was no winter, birds would not have to migrate
to survive. And if the thermal area was large enough, as it seemed to be here,
maybe the area could survive the last Ice Age, when glaciers ground their
way south. Could an area like this avoid the devastation of continental
glaciation by staying warm the whole time? It would defy all previous
understanding of the glacial period. It would explain why there were
mammoths sauntering around these grasslands.
 I looked over at Irina, who was sitting next to me but had placed her
knapsack and coat between us on the seat to create a barrier. We said formal
good mornings and little else. She was still angry at me, and I was being
friendly but letting her attitude determine how much I said to her. Instead, I
spoke with Mikhail and Yuri, who held the front seats in the vehicle and were
in a friendly mood. They noted Irina’s reticent behavior and seemed afraid to
get involved in whatever was happening between her and me.
We passed three more herds of mammoths that wandered across the
rolling grasslands in long lines, each following the other, or in small family
groups. They reminded me of elephant herds I had seen while traveling in
Africa three years before. They seemed to have similar social behavior as far
as I could tell.
We came into an area where the grassland began to yield to small forests
of deciduous trees, oak and maplelike species. Farther on, grassy meadows
were interspersed between groves of trees as we gained elevation.
We also saw several small herds of bison roaming through the grass,
calmly grazing and enjoying the bright weather. Before lunch, we saw one
small herd of thirty-eight animals running from something that chased them
over a low ridge and in our direction. When they came within a half mile of
us, they reacted to our presence by forming a tight defensive ring, adults
facing outward with the calves inside the circle. In this way, they had their
great horned heads pointed out so that any attacker could be butted and gored
before they could penetrate the circle. As we watched them, a pack of eight
dire wolves came over the ridge in pursuit and ran up to the bison circle,
looking cautious once they saw that the bison had taken up defensive
positions. They paced around the herd, and one wolf lunged at one of the
bison. He came very close, but the bison nearest him thrust forward and
caught him on a horn, tossing him backward several feet. The wolf yelped
and retreated to the safety of his pack.
When Volkov saw the wolves in the distance, he ordered us to stop the
convoy and close up the vehicles into a new defensive formation he had
developed after our last attack. We closed up the gaps of the first four
vehicles, and the remainder of the column came up to form a second parallel
line next to the first four vehicles. This gave us a much shorter column to
defend and brought T7, with its heavy machine gun, to a position where it
could provide covering fire for the rear of the column while T1’s machine
gun covered the front of the column. It was not as secure as the fence around
our camp battle square, but we hoped it would be formidable while traveling
in open country.
When the wolves saw our machinations, they became curious but did not
advance on us. Soon they ran off in the direction from which they had come,
and we began to move again. As we increased our distance from the bison,
they unpacked their defensive circle and ambled away to cross the path we
had traveled. That seemed to be the end of the episode.
We reached a point where the forest closed on a long vertical ridge of
volcanic rocks. Volkov called out on the intercom to keep a sharp lookout for
wolves or mountain lions since we were now among rocky outcrops that
those animals could use for cover in an attack. We passed among many spires
and upturned rocks, some as high as two hundred yards, and wound our way
through on a tortuous path. Because of the winding path, it took us over an
hour to cross through the area, but there were no incidents. Then we passed
what appeared to be an old volcanic cone that rose about five hundred yards
above the surrounding ground like it was an outlier vent for some ancient
eruption.
The weather was becoming warm, and we didn’t need jackets of any kind
today. And the sky was lighter than it had been at any time during our
journey. But there was still a layer of high cloud that completely covered the
sky. If that layer was always there, then no wonder the satellite images
showed only white cloud cover. Ahead of us, clouds swept up from beyond
the Zona Mountains, now only six miles away. The gap in the mountains was
close now, and we could make out the rugged peaks that guarded Sheba Pass.
We continued for another two hours until we came to a relatively flat spot
on the high slope located about five miles from the pass. Volkov called for
the convoy to stop and camp there in an area with no rock formations nearby.
We followed the usual protocol to establish camp.
After dinner was complete, Volkov came to the office unit to speak. I
think he intended to inform us and give us a pep talk. “May I have your
attention, please?” He stood stiffly by the door of the office unit. “I wanted to
explain how things will happen tomorrow.” He cleared his throat and waited
a few seconds while people disengaged from their conversations. “Tomorrow
we will have reached an important milestone in the expedition. We will cross
Sheba Pass and enter into Zona proper, the unknown and until now forbidden
area. We will travel as we have before but will not be able to stop in the pass
unless there is a dire emergency. That is because the pass itself is the home of
mountain lions of a terrible nature. This is the home of the huge female cat
called Sheba for whom the pass has been named.”
There was a murmur of recognition from the audience because they had
all heard the name before and knew what had happened to the last expedition.
Andre asked about the route through the pass. “Sir, tell us what to expect in
the pass itself. Is it a broad area, or will it be restricted by outcrops that we
will have to snake through? Will we be attacked in broad daylight as we
pass?”
“Good question.” Volkov seemed to favor this sort of tactical inquiry.
“When I was there last year, the pass was open, but it narrowed where the old
mine workings formed a huge waste rock pile. We arrived there late on the
last day of the expedition, so we had no time to explore the area fully. I recall
that there is a rough roadway that crosses the pass and descends the other side
of it for at least a mile and a half. It was one of the few roads constructed by
the miners during their short operation. There may be fallen trees across the
road that we have to clear, so expect that there will be some hard work ahead.
We will arrange equipment that will be needed for such tasks—chain saws,
cables, axes—so it will be readily available.” Volkov looked at Andre and
smiled. “So to answer your question, no, it will be narrow but not difficult to
pass, unless something has changed since I was there.” He looked around the
room earnestly.
“I should point out that we will pass directly in front of the cave that the
miners enlarged for the entrance of their mine tunnel.” He seemed suddenly
overcome by his memories of last year. “When I was here last year and we
camped in the cave for the night, we were attacked by one or more mountain
lions that were extremely large and vicious. We . . . I failed to do a proper
investigation of what animals might have been in the mine. We were attacked
. . . You have all heard the story by now. I don’t think the cats will attack us
as we pass by during the day.”
Volkov stopped speaking and looked around the room as if deciding what
to say next. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to confess that I have not
been completely open about the lions. At first we didn’t know what they
looked like up close, and then we were afraid to call them what we think they
might be.” He paused again and looked at Lada, the zoologist. “The lions
have huge canine teeth several inches long and terribly sharp. In fact, we
wound up calling them saber-toothed lions. If you see one, you will know
what I mean.”
There was a stir in the audience, and Volkov held up his hand for silence.
“I probably should have told you sooner, but I was afraid to say anything to
upset you all. We had so much happening the last few days, you understand.”
There was a long pause as he collected his thoughts. “But I have issued
the three ASH 12.7mm submachine guns. These are heavy-duty handheld
weapons that fire a 12.7 millimeter, twenty-gram projectile. They are as lethal
as the 12.5 machine guns but more compact for use in close fighting. The
only people who are trained in their use are Igor, Maxim, Tamara, and I. It’s
really not so special to use, but the kick is quite breathtaking and, therefore,
requires practice to keep on target. I brought these weapons along specifically
for use against the lions because of their size.”
“I hope we don’t have to fight these beasts,” Irina said, and others nodded
their heads in agreement.
Volkov realized that the discussion of the guns had taken him off
message and that he had increased the anxiety of the audience. “I certainly
hope we will not need to use these weapons, and they are only in case the
worst happens. But let me continue.” He took command of the room again.
“We will drive quickly through the pass and down to the end of the roadway.
There is some information left from the miners that the road goes all the way
down into the valley beyond the pass into a forest clearing. That will be our
goal, and we will make our camp for tomorrow night there. From that secure
position, we will be able to carry out reconnaissance forays to learn more of
our new home. I hope that this location will serve as our base for the
remainder of the summer.”
Kira stood to get attention. “But, sir, you’re telling us that no one has
been down that road since the 1950s. It must be overgrown with trees and all
sorts of vegetation by now.” She held out her arms in a large gesture, palms
up. “Shouldn’t we at least scout ahead to see how much work will be
required?”
Volkov looked at the faces of everyone in the room. “I have considered a
scouting mission but was afraid that it would alert the lions to our presence. I
even considered sending Igor and one other person out on the snowmobile for
a quick recon mission this evening. But I was afraid that if they had trouble,
we wouldn’t be in a position to help them.” He looked over at Igor then. “But
Igor came up with something that might work tomorrow.” He waved Igor
forward to speak.
Igor looked sheepish, even though he knew everyone in the room.
“Thank you, sir. I wasn’t expecting to speak.” He stood at attention and
delivered his idea to his fellow travelers. “My idea was simply that I take the
snowmobile out, with Maxim on my tail with one of the ASH guns for cover.
We can run ahead when the convoy gets within a mile of the pass. We can
verify if the pass is still clear to drive through and then explore the other side
to see if that road is passable. We can certainly radio from the pass and
probably have radio contact from the far side as well. If all is clear, the
convoy can continue, and we will retreat over the pass to rejoin you. It is a
simple plan, and so I think it can work.”
“Can the snowmobile travel over a rocky road like that?” Irina asked.
“Won’t the belt get torn up without snow to ride on?”
“No, we planned for this,” Igor explained. “We have extra-heavy-duty
treads on our machines, so they can run on dry ground and even on rocky
roads.”
Volkov smiled and nodded his approval of the plan. “I think this is
exactly what we should do. It will also save us from a problem if we get
partway down the road and have to turn around for some reason. That would
be difficult with our sledges.”
Volkov stood and asked if there were any questions or new information
to consider. There were a few questions about logistics, but nothing that
could not be resolved on the spot. He dismissed everyone and suggested we
all get some sleep.
 ***
Back at my sleeping quarters, my companions were already asleep when I
crawled into my sleeping bag. I determined to finish reading Journal X, since
it ended when Randall had arrived at the cave in the pass last year.

May 28
At Sheba Pass
We drove like fiends all day today to arrive at the pass for the night. We have seen no more of the
wolves today. They were watching us as we motored along, but they stopped following shortly before
the rough landscape with volcanic rock formations. Maybe we had reached the end of their territory, or
they just didn’t like the rocky terrain. I don’t know which.
We are now holed up in the cave/mine on the west side of the pass. The pass itself is not very broad,
and it is constricted by the manner of the mining operation. The miners tunneled through the sidewall
of the cave, taking advantage of its mouth for a start. They disposed of the rock they extracted from the
bedrock mine in a great pile nearby that fills half the pass and runs down the north side.

That was the end of Randall’s journal. Little did he know that soon after he
had finished writing, his party would be attacked by at least one of the great
lions.
The sound of muffled conversation came to my ear as I lay in my bag
reading. I raised my head to see who was speaking and saw Igor and Maxim,
two of my cigar acquaintances, having a smoke. I exited my quarters and
joined them for a cigar.
They were both excited about the action they would see in the morning.
Both were ex-military and highly trained, dressed in the simple dark green
uniform of the expeditionary guards force. They had started out in light gray
camo while we were crossing the tundra and marshlands, where they needed
to blend in with snow, unlike the forest we approached now. Igor was a little
taller than Maxim, but both were quite muscular from their years of training.
Both had small well-trimmed mustaches, short black hair, and a curt manner
of speech. Of the two, I would say that Igor was the one who was the most
experienced, or at least that was what he wanted to project. I got the
impression from him that he thought he was a leader of men, a funny feeling
that turned out to be prescient.
I asked them if they were worried about the upcoming scouting mission.
“Of course I am concerned,” Maxim said. “I don’t want to see those big cats
up close any more than you do. But someone has to go ahead, or we might
run into real trouble.”
Igor laughed and said, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What an
adventure we are on. Yes? But I’m afraid that if we run into trouble, the
convoy won’t be able to help us.”
I pulled out my flask with the last of my good cognac and passed it to
them both after I made them a toast. “To a successful and exciting day.” We
all had sips until the wonderful liquor was gone.
***
It began as a high-pitched scream like an animal being stabbed by a hundred
knives then transformed into a deep, pulsating roar, drifting to me on the
gentle wind that blew from the mountains. I bolted upright in my bedding and
nearly panicked. Had someone in camp been murdered in their sleep? No, it
came from far away, but it was so loud. Petrowski woke up on the second
roar and asked what the hell was happening. I pulled on my pants, grabbed
my binoculars, and sprang for the door.
As I stumbled to the edge of the north side of camp, the direction the
sound had come from, I bumped into Lada, who was running in the same
direction. She wore only her negligée and boots. I wondered if that was what
she slept in every night before I rushed to climb on the tracks of T6, the
tractor on the north perimeter. I helped her climb up, and we were soon
joined by Volkov, with his binoculars as well.
“It was Sheba,” he said. “She knows we’re coming.”
There was a second deeper roar from the mountains that caused me to
suddenly feel chilled to the bone. “That must be another one,” Lada said. “A
male with a deeper voice.”
“Solomon,” Volkov whispered. “The legend is true . . . There is a pair of
them up there.” He raised his field glasses and scanned the pass, which was
clear to us for a change. “They should be too far away to see in this light.”
“Wait,” Lada said and reached up to take my binoculars for a look. She
scanned the rocks for a few moments then said, “There, on the rocks just left
of the pass, closer to us.” She pointed as I took the binos back to seek out the
animals. Then we heard two roars almost simultaneously, Sheba and
Solomon. It was a horrifying scream from the alpha lions of Zona.
I couldn’t see them at first, but then Volkov said to look on the rocks just
there, pointing in the darkness. I looked again and couldn’t find them. Then
Lada took the glasses again and showed me where to look. She leaned up
against me as she passed the glasses back. She was shaking with fear, so I put
an arm around her and she took my hand to wrap around her waist.
With my free hand, I searched for Sheba. Then I saw them. Only a mile
away on some sharp rock outcrops, Sheba and Solomon both, each on a
separate rock spire. I saw their big-shouldered silhouettes as they both
screamed again in the darkening night. Their outlines were etched forever in
my mind. I could even see their massive canines in the dim light. They were
the ultimate predators.
PART III
 CHAPTER 21
Camp Zona 1
May 27

We crossed the pass without incident yesterday, driving right by the cave
entrance and down the road on the other side without stopping, a ceiling of
low clouds and fog preventing us from seeing the land ahead. Igor and
Maxim had probed forward on the snowmobile as planned but encountered
no unruly animals. They found the road open for a half mile before they
encountered trees in the path. We advanced to that point and broke out work
parties to clear the way with chain saws and axes. We were able to knock
down trees and brush quickly then push the vegetation over the side of the
road.
Another half mile along and two hours later, we found the road blocked
by a dense grove of brush and trees. We set to work clearing a path through
this barrier, using tractor T1 with its front-end blade to push larger logs over
the side of the roadway. The blade was also useful in the areas where the
upper bank of the road had collapsed as we pushed the earth out of the way. It
took four hours to break through that heavily treed stretch and drive farther.
By that time it was 5:00 p.m., and we thought it was another mile to the
planned campsite. Igor and Maxim drove ahead and confirmed there was
indeed a meadow at the end of the road but that it was another two miles
ahead, not one, with only moderate undergrowth blocking our way.
Volkov called for a meeting with the work crews gathered around and the
drivers and rear guard conferenced in by radio and intercom. The consensus
was that we needed to increase our distance from the pass, and we would
work until dark to make that happen. It being May 27, we had an extremely
long day and a two-hour night to look forward to.
At midnight we were exhausted, but we had reached the edge of a large
meadow where we could pull our vehicles up into a defensive block with T1
and T7 parked for maximum machine gun coverage. We ate dried,
prepackaged snacks in the cabs of our tractors, and most fell asleep in our
seats. A few brave souls took turns standing guard over us while we ate and
slept. I had a shift on duty with a shotgun in my hands and another slung over
my shoulder. My Makarov was tucked in my belt, even though it would not
defend me against any of the massive creatures we had seen lately.
***
We began the next day exhausted and sluggish. As usual, Volkov was up
before anyone else and detached a team to evaluate the meadow for
encampment. It was about three acres in size and of a circular pattern with
tall trees all around us. One side of the meadow was wet and soft, so we
established camp on the higher slope in our usual defensive square.
We had a similar layout here to what we had before, with the armory
sledge in the northwest corner, the food and supply sledge in the northeast
corner. The generator sledge, S4, in the southwest corner and S7 in the
southeast corner. Since this was a more permanent camp, we stacked the fuel
drums outside of S7 and converted it into a laboratory building. Likewise,
with the generator and fencing deployed, we converted S4 into the repairs
and maintenance shop. Office, kitchen, and toilet/water treatment units were
lined up east of the center of the camp, leaving room for us to erect two large
reinforced nylon tents west of center. One tent was used as a rec-and-
relaxation tent and the other as additional sleeping quarters for the male
guards. The tractors were parked around the inside of the boundary fence as
before, with T1 on the west side and T7 on the east side to provide perimeter
coverage with their machine guns. The electric fence, sensor arrays, and klieg
lights were arranged as usual.
It took four hours to get this all set up, and after lunch, many of us took
naps while the usual suspects maintained watch. I set up the water treatment
system and helped where I could before succumbing to exhaustion. Instead of
being cold weather, the air was now quite warm and humid. It was a relief to
sleep in my shorts and T-shirt, a break from the constant confinement of
heavy clothes. The air smelled sweet here, having the aroma of flowers and
wet vegetation, like in a garden. I fell asleep immediately and had pleasant
dreams.
Petrowski shook me awake to announce that there was a meeting getting
underway that we should attend. I rushed out to the gathering in the office
unit, where Volkov happily unleashed several bottles of champagne. We each
took a plastic cup of bubbly, and he led us all in a toast to our great success
getting to our goal in Zona. We all felt rather cheerful after the long trek, and
it became a happy occasion with smiles and laughter, which we had not
experienced for many days. Everyone had rested for a while, and I guess that
also had improved their moods.
“I’m happy to announce that we can now reallocate our space to be more
comfortable, especially for the purpose of sleeping arrangements.” He looked
around the room. “There is somewhat more room for us than originally
planned because of our unfortunate losses on the trip here . . . So let us first
toast to our fallen comrades and friends who were not as lucky as we here
have been.”
We filled our glasses and toasted the dead, each of their names called out
by a member of our party with whom they had been especially close.
“To Pavel,” Maxim said, holding his cup high.
“To Ivan,” Igor toasted.
“To Olga,” said Tamara.
“To Sergei,” said Nina.
“To Marta,” said Yana.
It was a long sad list that brought the mood of the group down again.
“We will miss them all,” Volkov said, then added, “Now I want to show
you a plan that I have made with the assistance of Igor, Tamara, and Dr.
Dubinin to reassign sleeping quarters so that everyone can have more space
for the long stay ahead. I want you all to study it and see if there are any
improvements to be made. Thank you.”
I made my way to see the diagram that Volkov taped to the wall. Many
people indicated they were pleased with the new plan. Petrowski and I were
to remain in our cab of T3, but Dubinin would move out and join Yuri in T4.
Volkov would remain in T2 by himself, Igor would stay in T1 alone, and
Maxim and Mikhail would share T7, a good strategic move so they would be
on the machine gun at night. Victor and Andre were paired up in T5, with
Tamara and Regina in T6. That left the remaining women in the kitchen unit,
which seemed a little crowded: Irina, Valeriya, Kira, Diana, Lada, Yana, and
Nina.
After the meeting, Petrowski and I helped Dubinin move his things into
T4. Yuri did not seem unduly pleased with the new arrangement. Dubinin
said he had heard him protest to Volkov but that Volkov would not budge on
the plan. The good doctor and I went back to our abode and found out we
could rearrange the seats to make two pleasant sleeping areas separated by a
seatback, above which we slung a cloth to form a privacy curtain. I was
adamant about sealing off my bed because I hoped to entice Irina back for a
conjugal visit as soon as I could find a way past her mood.
The next day, Volkov organized a series of short exploratory missions
from camp. Igor led Nina, Regina, and Maxim back up the road to look for
any tracks or other signs of animal activity in that area. Volkov suspected that
Sheba or one of her offspring might come down the road to see where we
were and what we were doing. They found fresh lion tracks measuring about
a foot in diameter approximately one mile from camp. The size suggested a
cat of unbelievable dimensions, perhaps ten feet long in its body and up to
five feet tall at the shoulders. It could weigh up to sixteen hundred pounds.
The very thought of an animal that large sent the team back to camp with
concerns.
For the second foray, the team was armed with the ASH rifles and
shotguns loaded with the new standard sabot slugs. They explored east into
the forest to see what lay ahead of us. Mikhail commanded that team and
found there were some animal paths through the forest in that direction, one
of which led to a pond where some animals must come for water. He deduced
this by the number of tracks along the banks of the pond, many of them
hoofed. The possibility of deer or other small mammals raised the interest of
the biologists.
Irina and other biologists made a short trip on foot around the meadow to
inspect the variety and nature of the plants. Andre, now partly recovered from
his wounds, accompanied them with a shotgun. Even Diana sauntered along
to see the plants, slowly becoming used to the loss of her left arm. She was
weak but enthusiastic about finally having the opportunity to collect
specimens.
“My Lord,” she said. “Look at these beautiful irises. They are four feet
tall. And so varied in color.” She picked a few samples along with the others.
They inspected plants growing in the wet area as well and found many
species with which they were unfamiliar. After two hours, they returned to
camp through the east gate.
***
I had Lada, Irina, and Petrowski for dining companions that night, Lada next
to me and the others sitting opposite. Irina seemed to be warming to me again
and was in a pleasant mood. She also noted that Lada and I were friendly, and
that might have caused her to soften her anger toward me.
“Grant,” she said. “You should have seen the fabulous flowers we picked
today. They were just amazing. Many were familiar, but others seemed to be
much larger here than other ones I’ve seen before.”
“And there are many new species. Of that I’m sure.” Lada burbled her
delight. “And there were rodent burrows everywhere. I wish Marta were here
to see them. She loved burrowing rodents.”
“I noticed the flowers. Even here in camp we have a few that have not
been trampled,” I said. “It seems you will all be very busy cataloging your
finds.”
Petrowski sneezed loudly and grumbled, “My hay fever seems to have
gotten worse today. My nose is driving me crazy.” He looked at the rest of us
and inquired, “Is it bothering the rest of you? Or is it just me?”
“Oh, I have noticed it too,” Irina said and sniffled. “I don’t usually have
any allergies, but something here is making my sinuses sensitive.”
“I’ve got a stuffy nose,” I said. “But it isn’t too bad. What do you think is
causing it?”
“I don’t know what it is, but I brought some allergy pills with me,” Irina
said. “I sense there is a lot of pollen in the air. That’s one reason the air
smells so sweet. Pleasant but not a problem, I hope.”
I looked around and noticed that three or four other people were sniffling.
I asked the doctor, “Do you have any allergy medicine with you for people
who didn’t bring their own? We might need it as the summer goes on.”
Petrowski laughed. “Oh yes. I came prepared for the unexpected.
Allergies, cuts, abrasions, poisoning, infections. I even brought along
condoms and other birth control measures, just in case.” He looked around
the room then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I have been on
expeditions before and know that when people are penned up together a long
time, they can become very friendly, even if they think it will never happen
to them.”
“Really, Doctor?” Lada giggled. “Is that why we women had to bring
along eight months of birth control pills? You expect us to become wild and
crazy?” She laughed out loud at the thought.
The doctor was amused. “You wait and see after a few weeks if one of
these men doesn’t look more attractive to you than he does now. It happens
on these trips. You will see.”
I looked around the room and noted that everyone seemed very upbeat. It
must be the fact that we are finally here in Zona and we haven’t been
attacked in two days. And I felt rather happy too. I looked over at Irina, and
she smiled genuinely at me for the first time in three days.
The good doctor noticed our exchange and commented, “Grant, I will be
enjoying a good night’s sleep tonight, beginning shortly. I will not be
disturbed.” He raised his eyebrows and looked sternly at me. He shook his
finger. “Not tonight.”
I couldn’t help but laugh openly about his admonishment. “Okay, Doctor,
I read you clearly.” I looked at Irina and she giggled. Things were looking up.
Then Lada put her hand on my thigh under the table and smiled without
looking at me. I didn’t want things to get complicated, so I removed her hand
quietly. I grinned at Irina and hoped she hadn’t noticed anything.
We were visited by an animal during the night. It set off motion sensors,
but otherwise we knew nothing of what lurked in the forest as we slept.
 CHAPTER 22
Camp Zona 1
May 29

I rose early the next morning and made an early breakfast in order to report
for a short stint on guard duty. Maxim and I walked the inside of the electric
fence to search for indications of any trouble outside the line. We made it
halfway around the perimeter when we noticed tracks close to the north side
of the fence. The tracks were large and came no closer than ten feet to the
wire. There were no signs of disturbance, so we continued our patrol of the
fence line. When we finished, we reported to Igor what we had found. He
then joined us for a foray out the west gate for a closer look.
The tracks were from a large lion, but they were only half as large as the
tracks the patrol had seen on the road the day before. It had apparently paced
back and forth a few times then walked off in the same direction from which
it had come. We continued around the outside of the fence and saw one more
set of tracks, those of a small doglike creature, maybe a fox, on the south side
about six or seven yards from the fence. Those tracks led eastward, as though
it had walked around the camp and continued on its way. Clearly our camp
had been discovered by some of the local animals.
Igor left to report our findings to Volkov, and I was soon relieved by
Nina, who was in a very good mood. She gave me a hug then hugged Maxim
longer. “I’m so happy today. I slept better than any other night since we
began the expedition.” I noticed a spark pass between them that I hadn’t
observed before.
I walked to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, then to the office unit where I
sat next to Petrowski. He seemed in a dismal state. His hands were visibly
shaking as he tried to sip his coffee.
“Doctor,” I asked with concern. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you sleep
well?”
He turned to look at me cautiously. “Haven’t you heard?” Tears appeared
in his eyes, and he lowered his head. “Diana passed away last night. The
sepsis took her.”
 I felt completely stunned. Just last evening he had told me he thought he
might have her blood poisoning infection under control, even though he did
not have the antibiotics necessary for such a serious infection. She had been
happy and so alive when she came to dinner with the rest of us. I couldn’t
believe that her condition could deteriorate so abruptly.
“How could this happen so suddenly? She seemed fine last night.”
“I thought she was much better. Later, when I last checked on her, her
blood pressure seemed a little low, but I was not worried. Then, during the
night, Tamara came to wake me, saying that Diana was not breathing right. I
went to check on her and found that she had gone into septic shock.” He
sipped his coffee and caught his breath. “I wish I could have brought more
antibiotics, a better treatment for her. The amputation got infected and spread
further than I realized.”
“But you did the best you could. You tried to save her from a severe
injury.”
“Yes, she needed a hospital. But I failed her.” He began to cry, something
I had not seen him do before, even after the big wolf attack.
I didn’t know what to do. I placed a hand on his shoulder to show my
support, and he thanked me.
“I have to see Victor. I will double his antibiotic dose to prevent a similar
fate for him.” Then he walked outside toward the kitchen unit next door,
where Victor was recovering from the deep wounds on his leg that he had
suffered during the wolf attack.
Volkov organized two more “survey” excursions to get a better
understanding of our surroundings. He sent Igor with Nina and Regina south
to explore for a distance of two miles, mapping the area at a recon level. He
sent Mikhail east with Tamara and Andre on a similar recon mission. Maxim,
Volkov, Dubinin, Yuri, and I did security detail for the day.
While on duty, I had time to ask Volkov about our plans for the next few
days. “How long will we hold up in camp, Max? We need to get out of this
meadow to search for Randall and to begin the scientific work.”
“Yes, it is true. But I have security concerns first and foremost.” He and I
smoked his cherry cigarillos as we talked. “I want to do recon on all sides to
establish any nearby threats we may have here. And that means going back
up to the pass to see if we are still too close to Sheba for our safety.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “We want to be outside of her territory to be
safe. She came out about three miles to howl at us on the other side of the
pass.”
“Yes, she seems very territorial. And we don’t know how many lions are
in these mountains. Or what other beasts might cause us harm.”
“I need to get started looking for traces of Randall soon. The place to
start a search is up in the pass. Can I get up there tomorrow?”
“Let’s see what the recon teams report. Then I can decide on it.” He
hesitated before going on. “If Randall and Veruschka survived that night
when Sheba attacked us last year, they would have had to leave the pass right
away, or Sheba would find them. When I left, I checked down the roads on
both sides of the pass for almost a mile but saw no trace of them. No tracks,
no response to my calls, nothing. The road would have been their best route
away from the pass.”
“Yes, I see what you mean. If they followed the road, they would have
probably come to the meadow.” I looked around at the forest. It seemed
impenetrable. “What would they have done on their own?”
“It’s possible that one more person was with them. The botanist Katrina
Ostalova was missing when I buried the bodies. I spent two days searching
and preparing to leave the pass. I could only assume then that they were all
killed, perhaps even eaten.”
We finished our smokes, and Volkov returned to the office to plan our
next moves. I traded places with Yuri along the north fence line as we all
rotated positions. This was a technique Volkov instituted so no one became
bored staring at the same terrain for too long.
Yuri grunted at me as we passed each other, about all I usually got from
him. He was generally unfriendly to me, and I wasn’t sure why. All I knew
was that he had worked for Boris for a few years. He was the man in the
photograph of Randall, Boris, and the bearskin that sat on the fireplace at the
apartment. I was sure of it now after having spent much time observing him
at closer range.
As I watched the edge of the forest, I thought about what Uncle Randall
would have done if he had escaped the night of the attack. Max had said he
saw him and Veruschka run out of the cave entrance, but he couldn’t be sure
Katrina was with them. He said it was dark outside at the time.
I put myself in Randall’s shoes to consider what they would have done in
that situation. Once out of the cave, would they have gone back the way they
had come, or would they have turned left and gone down the road in this
direction? Or would they have hidden in one of the snow crawlers? They had
had four tractors on the earlier expedition, along with four sledges.
I decided they couldn’t have hidden in the machines because, if they had,
Max would have found them. If they had gone back the way they had come,
they would have heard Max driving a tractor away two days later. Besides,
Max had looked for them on both sides of the pass according to his story. So
that left coming down toward the meadow as most likely.
As I stood in my reverie, I noticed a low branch sway back and forth at
the edge of the trees only forty yards away. Raising my shotgun, I watched
the place where movement had occurred. I was about to reach up and press
the button on my radio when a sizable rabbit shuffled along a few hops to eat
a flowering plant. He looked completely oblivious to me and the camp as I
watched him move slowly along, browsing the plants.
I had the feeling I was being watched. It was a sixth sense I had seemed
to have lately. I scanned the edge of the forest and saw nothing. The rabbit
stopped moving and stared at something nearby. Following its gaze, I saw an
eye in the forest.
It was a wolf looking passively at me with some interest. For some reason
I was not afraid, just startled. The wolf stepped forward just far enough that
his face emerged from the leaves of a shrub. He looked calmly at me, panting
with his tongue out. He seemed completely at ease and sat to watch me. I
raised my shotgun and he didn’t flinch. Then I lowered it again with no
response. Then it occurred to me that maybe he had never seen a human
before.
I said to him in a low, calm voice, “Hi, boy. What you want?” He twisted
his head sideways as if to hear better. “Who are you? What you want?”
He stared at me and moved his lips a little like he was ready to bark or
woof at me. He was a dire wolf, certainly as large as the dire wolves we had
seen so far. He was a light gray color, almost white, with a uniform coat
except at the ears, which were white inside. His long bushy tail was held
upright, and his eyes were gray. He licked his chops and let his tongue loll
out as he gazed at me.
Then I heard movement behind me and turned to see Irina come around
the corner of the food supply sledge, wearing tan shorts she had cut down
from a pair of jeans and a light blue tank top. “Hi,” she greeted me. “Who
were you talking to? I thought I heard you saying something.”
I was about to answer by pointing to the wolf, but he was gone. I said
nothing about him. “Oh, just talking to myself. You know it gets lonely out
here on guard duty.” I looked at her smile and wondered if something was up.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m collecting plant specimens inside the wire. I want to go out of camp
tomorrow and work the meadow area. Do you think Max will let us do that
soon?”
“Maybe. You and the others could do some collecting this evening when
the survey teams come back in. You could get in two or three hours before
dinner, and Max would probably approve, unless there have been animal
sightings.” I immediately realized what a bad idea this was after just seeing a
wolf. “Or maybe he’ll let you do it tomorrow.”
“Oh good.” She came close to me and whispered, “I was hoping you
could help me move some supplies around in the new lab building tonight
after dinner. It would probably just be you and me.” She looked hopeful.
“I also wanted to make a truce with you,” she continued. “I know I
accused you of lying about the wolf, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t believe that
you can communicate with a wolf.” She looked a little sheepish.
“What changed your mind?”
“Lada,” Irina said with a smile. “She said that it is not unusual to
communicate with animals, especially canines. Then I remembered when I
was a child and we had a dog at home. I seemed to know exactly what my
dog wanted and vice versa. I thought he could understand my words
somehow. But it was something more subtle. At least, I can see that now.”
“I’m glad you came around to that. Some animals are very intelligent,
you know. They just can’t talk the same way we do.” I put an arm around her
and pulled her to me. “Think of all the things we can communicate without
speaking.”
She rose up on her toes and kissed me. “You mean like that?” We both
smiled.
I sent her back to her collecting. I spent the next two hours of my shift
looking for the wolf.
When Dubinin came to relieve me, I walked back to my quarters to take a
nap. The warm weather was having an effect on me, and the sweet air made
me very lackadaisical. I took off my sweaty shirt and hung it on the mirror on
the passenger side of the tractor, a signal to Petrowski that I was there. I
climbed into the cab and shuffled to my bunk, when I noticed a pair of shoes
near the bunk that were not mine.
I stopped dead. I heard breathing coming from under my blanket, which
moved up and down as someone under it shifted slightly. I immediately
thought of Irina and pulled the blanket aside a little to reveal a naked leg. I
pulled the blanket again to reveal an arm and the lower half of a naked
woman, while in the back of my mind my subconscious processed what I
saw. It was saying Irina had light freckled skin, not this beautifully tanned
skin with a small tattoo on her lower belly that read love in English.
Then Lada threw back the blanket, revealing her tan, lean body and a
fantastic grin. “I thought you might be lonely after standing out at the fence
all afternoon.” She lowered her eyes and added, “Are you happy to see me?”
Then she giggled and opened her arms to pull me down on her. I offered a
weak refusal initially, thinking I should be loyal to Irina, but my resistance
failed me upon contact with this warm, luscious being.
***
Lada ducked out of my quarters, leaving me sweaty and exhausted, when we
heard the sounds of the first field recon team returning from their mission. I
opened the windows of the tractor to let it vent and joined the debriefing in
the office.
“We walked about a half mile and found a mountain stream that flowed
quickly to the south. The water was nice and clear, so we collected a sample,”
Mikhail reported. “Then we followed the stream up valley for a mile to
confirm it came from the area just south of the pass. We hiked east over a low
ridge, all in heavy trees, found another smaller stream, and followed an
animal track that paralleled the first stream from the pass area along the
stream about two miles southeast of camp.”
Volkov asked, “So did the trail appear to be heavily used? Small animals
or large?”
“We saw tracks of lions in the upper portion, along with deerlike tracks
and maybe fox. We saw rabbits run along it too.”
Tamara added, “And there were small rodents in the trees like squirrels,
but black and green in color.”
“And there were birds too. Thrushes, finches, and others, even grouse.
We saw a few of them but couldn’t get good views,” Andre piped in his
observations.
“Any signs of lions or wolves near the camp? Tracks or animal kills?”
Volkov focused on security.
“No, sir,” Mikhail responded. “We saw what could be lion tracks but
nothing recent. The ground may be too dry to show tracks except near the
stream.”
“Well done,” Volkov said. “Write a report with distances traveled and a
map with input from your team, Mikhail. Then get some rest. You will all
have a turn on guard tonight.”
He dismissed them just as the next recon team returned to camp. Volkov
conducted a similar debriefing with them, and I sat in to hear what they had
discovered.
Igor made his report. “We went south along an animal trail that runs from
the southwest side of our meadow to a large stream that is southeast of our
position here, sir.” He showed Volkov a sketch he had made of the trail and
stream.
Volkov got up to study the sketch map. “Good. The other team
discovered a stream that is likely the same one but farther north from where
you were. We will have to confirm they are connected.” He sat again. “Please
continue, Igor.”
“The trail joined another track running alongside the stream from the
north, well used by the looks of the numerous animal tracks. We followed it
south to where another stream joined it from the west. There was another
meadow like the one we have here at the junction of the streams. We figured
we were about two miles south of camp at that point, so we followed the
western stream up to the northwest. We found that some beavers had built a
series of small dams along the stream, making pools. Farther along we found
another trail running from southwest to northeast. We followed it north to
where it crossed the first trail just south of camp.”
“We saw tracks that could be wolf prints in that meadow and by the
beaver ponds,” Nina commented. “No lion tracks, but we could have missed
them. Lots of what looked like deer tracks.”
Regina pointed to the area north of the beaver ponds. “There is a low
ridge here where the vegetation thins out a little. Less undergrowth, except
along the streams.”
I asked, “Did you actually see any beavers?”
“No, but the dams looked just like ones I’ve seen elsewhere.”
Volkov dismissed the patrol, asking for a written report and sketch map.
He told me he wanted to have the teams do more recon the next day,
especially north and west of camp. He said he would put me in charge of
security for the biologists who wanted to do a survey and collect specimens
in the meadow the next day. Then we would plan for a full excursion to the
pass on the following day. He marched off to see to the guard duties of the
next shift and for the night.
A heavy rain began during dinner, which caused Volkov to put more
people on the fence line. I was deployed to help monitor the fence until the
storm slowed. Several people were excited by the rain. In an unexplained
sense of euphoria, several people ran out into the warm downpour in the nude
with bars of soap to take their first shower of the trip. Volkov watched in
amazement as most of the women not on duty took the opportunity to shower
in the rain and playfully washed one another’s hair.
During the night, the rain intensified, and water pooled in the low areas
around camp. A small stream of runoff ran through camp as the storm
continued. The heavy rain also caused the electric fence to spark a few times
when insulators shorted and flashed in the night.
 CHAPTER 23
Camp Zona 1
May 30

We ran three different operations from camp. Maxim and I supervised the
biologists while they made a concerted survey of the meadow area, mapping
locations where specimens were collected, photographing the plants, and
collecting samples for cataloging in the evening. The six-hour outing went
well, and the biologists worked late into the night to preserve their samples.
Igor led another survey team, all wearing forest-camo fatigues, with
Regina and Andre to cover the west side of camp, going up the stream they
had found the previous day for about three miles then working north toward
the mountain ridge to intercept another well-used animal trail. They followed
the trail back to the east where it joined the road that we had all followed
down from Sheba Pass. They found heavy forest near the head of that creek
where it rose up the mountain slope.
Mikhail led the other survey team with Tamara and Nina southeast along
what we now called East Creek to follow that trail for nearly four miles
before turning west to intercept the trail they had discovered the day before.
They then turned north to cross a long ridge and joined the southeast trail
before returning to camp. They found several small dry meadows in that area.
***
The next morning, on the last day of May, I rose early to prepare for the
excursion up the pass road. I got cameras ready for the day and walked to the
armory where Andre was doling out ammunition and weapons for the
occasion. He was taking on several new roles since his recovery and was in
the process of turning over his weaponsmaster position to Victor. Victor
needed more to do to feel useful while nursing his injured leg, which was still
largely covered with bandages. I told him it was good to see him back in
action again. They were both checking out the ASH 12.7mm rifles and
loading them. Apparently we would have those with us today as well as the
usual shotguns and rifles.
We needed to open the fence to allow two of the tractors, T1 and T3, the
one with my quarters in the cab, out of the camp for the trip. We then closed
up the fence again, making sure it worked properly. We loaded up, Igor
driving T1 with Yuri and Volkov aboard, and Tamara driving T3 with Regina
and me on board. I sat in back, with Regina in the front shotgun position.
Maxim and Nina rode one of the snowmobiles along behind. Mikhail was left
in charge of camp defense.
It took about an hour to reach the pass, the time being 10:00 a.m. on
arrival. Our plan was to drive within a half mile of the cave and send Maxim
and Nina ahead on the snowmobile to spot for lions. We reached that launch
point and waited quietly. We proceeded when we heard the all clear from
them.
In the pass, we drove our tractors past the cave to where three older
tractors and three of the old sledges were parked a year earlier. Our plan was
to detach the old fuel sledge and supplies sledge from the old tractors and
hook them up to T1 and T3 for transport down the mountain road to our
camp. That was our first priority, so we set about unhitching the sledges. This
took twenty minutes, then another ten to pull the sledges away from the old
tractors with cables so they could be hooked up to our new tractors. We were
sweating profusely by the time we finished because of the high humidity and
warmer than usual day. Once the sledges were attached, we pulled them
forward so we could make a rapid exit if needed.
Volkov asked us to search through the third sledge for items we could use
at Zona 1, our camp. He retrieved an extra generator, several boxes of
maintenance parts, and other supplies that had survived the year of
abandonment. That task burned up another fifteen minutes.
Maxim and Igor patrolled with the ASH guns, keeping especially close
watch on the cave entrance. We did not hear a sound from that location.
When I could break away, I began my assigned task to video the entire area
and the equipment parked there.
I took a few minutes to try to reenact what Randall might have done after
running out of the cave. Going to the left and down the road made the most
sense to me, given that it would have been dark and they were being chased.
I noted that one of the old tractors had been savaged by the lions. The cab
of the vehicle was destroyed, like it had been beaten with massive baseball
bats. Even the seats inside and the controls were destroyed. It would never be
operable. The other two tractors, on the other hand, were untouched, like they
had been parked for a year with only thick dust on them. These were the ones
Volkov hoped to return for in a few days.
When I finished the video work, Volkov directed everyone to spread out
and search for any signs of Randall and other survivors. He walked with me
to the mouth of the cave, and we looked all around for anything that looked
useful on this quest. We saw nothing new to help us.
At my insistence, we stepped inside the cave entrance just to see what it
looked like. Volkov would not step more than one foot into the cave, but Igor
and I walked in a short distance with flashlights to look around. We could see
the rails for the mine carts disappear into the gloom at the far end of the cave.
Here and there we saw the remains of sleeping bags and clothing left by the
people from the first expedition. Then the flashlight beam illuminated some
long thin white objects on the floor. Some were crushed and some broken to
reveal dried marrow inside. I didn’t know what they were at first, until Igor
said, “Kosti,” Russian for “bones.” All of a sudden I felt sickened by the
sight. I had to leave the cave quickly and ran outside to vomit. That never
happens to me.
I walked to the south side of the pass and took several deep breaths. The
air tasted especially sweet today after the last two days of rain. I took a drink
of water to wash out my mouth.
Volkov came over and put a hand on my shoulder. “That is why I didn’t
enter the cave. The memories are too rampant for me, even now.”
“I didn’t expect to see bones. Were they theirs? Your team’s?”
“I buried all the body parts I could find in shallow graves out there. Let
me show you.” He led me a short distance to a flat spot overgrown with grass
and weeds. “The crosses should be here.” He swept the grass aside with his
boot several times until he hit something. He bent down and pulled some
grass up to reveal a small wooden cross. “They are here, the ones I found.”
He bent over to pray, and I joined him for a silent minute.
“But I had all the skulls and most of the bodies for everyone except three.
I don’t think I missed anything as big as leg bones. Maybe what you saw in
the cave were bones from deer or other prey animals. We could go into the
cave and see how many are there. We could collect some for our zoologist to
evaluate. It might tie up a loose end.” He looked hopeful for a moment, then
suddenly ill. “Or it might be devastating news.”
We determined to complete our search of the area outside the cave before
attempting to go inside again. We found absolutely no trace of any survivors
outside the cave. Finally Tamara and Nina stalked into the cave under ASH
gun cover by Maxim and Igor to collect the larger bones they found. They
came out with about a dozen bones that might or might not have been human
in a large plastic bag.
Volkov and I waited on the south side of the pass until they were
finished. As we stood there, the clouds lifted for a few minutes, and we
enjoyed a clear view of most of the mountain ridge both east and west for
several miles along its length. I pulled up the video camera from the lanyard
around my neck and shot the whole scene as a panorama. Then the clouds
lifted to the south, and we could see a few miles into Zona itself. It was an
amazing view.
A huge valley lay below us, and we could see how the mountain range
we were standing on arced around the huge valley. We could finally see that
we were standing on the edge of a giant impact crater. Of course, over the
centuries it had been eroded and covered with dense vegetation, but it was
there. We couldn’t see the far side of the crater through the mist and distant
clouds, but we could see the curvature of the landscape.
I hurriedly shot the distant view and the panorama again, this time with
the valley visible below us. Volkov and I pointed out the distinct features we
could see below, including the little valleys that must correspond to the
streams the survey teams had found. We could see that our camp was located
in a meadow perched on the slope of a valley that dropped far to the south.
We made out a rather large lake maybe twelve miles away, but it was too
misty to see beyond it to what should correspond to the center of the crater. If
only we had a crystal clear day.
Several of the guards came to look out during that brief period of clarity.
Then we heard Igor shout, “We have to go! I hear lions in the cave.”
Everyone else ran back to their vehicles and mounted up while I shot
video. Igor and Tamara started their engines and began to move their rigs
onto the roadway for our descent into the valley. Maxim and Nina revved the
snowmobile and pulled up next to me. Nina yelled, “Get your ass in gear! We
have to go now!” Then they roared ahead while I took the last video of the
rapidly closing view of Zona as clouds descended again.
I was running to T3 when Tamara pulled even with me and stopped so I
could climb onto the tracks. I climbed in as Regina closed and locked the cab
door. “That is cutting it too close, you moron. You scared me to death.”
Regina punched me in the shoulder then turned around to set her shotgun in
position for use if needed. We roared down the road in a mighty convoy
traveling about four miles per hour. Maxim acted as rear guard, zooming
back and forth with Nina on the tail of the snow machine, she with the ASH
gun ready to fire. Igor and Yuri both told me over the intercom what an ass I
was for delaying departure.
It didn’t matter to me. I had my video of Zona.
***
We got back to camp at 4:00 p.m. and dropped the newly obtained sledges on
the outside of the west gate. After we were sure the lions were not following
us down the mountain, we opened the fence long enough to back the tractors
inside the camp and sealed it up again.
There was time to do an inventory of what we had salvaged from the
pass. The big item was fuel. We had recovered about twelve hundred gallons
of gasoline and eighty-five gallons of kerosene in the fuel sledge. We had
retrieved another generator, machine supplies and tools, and two spare
sections of track for the tractors. We also had found some medical supplies;
dried and canned foods; and, most cherished by all, three cases of liquor.
Volkov, being a practical man, kept out two bottles of vodka for
celebration and locked up the remaining liquor in the armory for safekeeping.
We celebrated until dinner. Then I downloaded the video of the valley and
showed it to everyone on the monitor in the office. Everyone was impressed
at the size of the valley we were in.
After we had gone through the video four times, Volkov took to the floor
and pulled out a paper map that he, Mikhail, and Igor had been drawing. It
showed the net result of the exploration surveys. He presented and pinned it
on the office wall for all of us to study at our leisure. He announced our
assignments for guard duty for the next two nights. There was a bit of
grumbling because the guards were tired from doing the daytime surveys, the
excursion today, and guard duty at night. Volkov said he would listen to their
complaints at a meeting he called for tomorrow morning. Then he said good
night.
It was 9:00 p.m. by this time, and I pulled a shift at ten o’clock, so I
headed for my bunk to catch an hour’s sleep. I told Irina I would have to
“help” her at the lab the next day, but she said she couldn’t wait. “Besides,”
she said, “how much sleep will you get in an hour anyway? The doctor is
over in the kitchen treating Victor now. We have some time.”
***
I began my shift on the north side of camp, walking back and forth thinking
about Irina. She was confusing me with her sudden sexual desires, which I
was, of course, all too happy to satisfy. We seemed to be back on friendly
ground for the time being, but I felt like she was still not being up front with
what she knew.
The clouds lowered as the evening went by, and it looked like it might
give us rain overnight, but it was hard to tell in this climate. None of us had
enough experience with the weather in Zona to make any predictions. I hoped
for some rain to keep the pollen count down. For someone who didn’t have
allergies previously, I had developed them since we arrived. I was taking pills
that Petrowski gave me, but my sinuses seemed congested nonetheless.
A loud, distant roar permeated the valley, coming from the direction of
Sheba Pass. This seemed louder and closer than on the previous nights;
perhaps our visit to the cave had stirred things up. The last thing we wanted
was to have the lions decide we were trouble.
The roar came again, this time from two lions in unison, and it carried a
menacing tone to it. Instead of being a general call to establish territory, this
one seemed to be a declaration of purpose. How do you interpret these calls?
Lada knew about mountain lions. Maybe some of what she had learned about
those creatures might apply here. I made a mental note to ask her about it
when I saw her next.
 Then there were two roars like we had heard a few nights ago, each one
calling to the other back and forth. First I heard what sounded like Sheba,
starting like a cry and turning into a yowling roar, then the deeper, more
bloodcurdling roar of Solomon. This went on for a half hour. Then I heard a
lion yowl from close by. It sounded like it was coming from an animal on the
road, maybe a few hundred yards away.
I bolted upright and swung up my shotgun in both hands. I called Mikhail
on the radio to be sure he had heard it where he was on the sensor controls.
“Mikhail, did you hear that? It was just up the road by the sounds of it.”
“Roger that. I don’t have any activity yet on motion or heat sensors. Keep
me informed if it sounds closer.”
Nina checked in from the west side, and we all had some comments about
what we had heard. Fifteen minutes later, Mikhail came on the radio. “Okay.
There is motion off the northwest corner by the road. But I don’t have any
indications of heat yet. Heat sensors are not working well since we’ve been in
Zona. Not enough temperature contrast, I think.”
Nina said, “I think I see something by the sledges we brought down from
the pass. They are blocking my view to the north. Grant, can you see
anything there?”
Something brown moved behind a sledge. “Yes, I see motion by the
sledges.” I paused to listen. “I hear it coming through the weeds. It’s close.”
A sudden yellow-green flash erupted from the fence at the northwest
corner, electricity arcing around a lion silhouetted on the fence where it was
touching two of the horizontal wires. Both wires were unloading current into
the animal as it twisted and tried to pull away from the wicked shock. The
encounter lasted about ten heartbeats and scared me to death, being only six
yards away.
The animal’s eyes were wild with fear as it struggled. At the end it
seemed to stare right at me with glowing, hate-filled eyes. I jumped backward
and tripped on something on the ground. That caused me to drop my eyes for
an instant, and when I looked back, the lion was gone, having left scorched
hair on the wires.
The yowling kept on in the pass, Sheba and Solomon declaring their
presence, but the local calling stopped for good. I walked over to inspect the
wires from a distance and saw that the lion had apparently tried to crawl
through the fence before it was shocked. But the fence circuit had held for the
entire incident, an improvement over what had happened when the wolves
attacked.
By midnight the lion calls ended, and I was able to relax somewhat. I
talked to Volkov and Lada, who had both come out to see what had
happened. Lada told us that the nighttime yowling was usually a claim of
territory, along with scenting an area, and regular patrols. We might have
caused the longer than usual roaring by invading their territory in the pass
earlier in the day. Volkov walked away after a few minutes, and Lada said
she would work on the bone identification since she couldn’t sleep.
I was daydreaming at the end of my shift, when I was supposed to be
alert. There was movement in the brush at the edge of the forest to catch my
attention. I snapped awake and stood just as something moved in the brush in
front of me. But I couldn’t really see anything. Maybe it had just been the
wind since a storm was brewing.
Then I saw movement at the edge of the trees. It was the light gray wolf I
had seen the other day, standing there with his tongue hanging out. He stood
out quite clearly now in the long evening light. He looked like he was waiting
for me to notice him. Or at least that was the impression I had for some
reason. He looked at me then nodded his head, a fine-looking fellow who
seemed friendly. Then he ducked back into the brush just as Tamara came to
replace me on guard.
She seemed to be in a very good mood and was muttering like she had
been drinking. “I am to take over now, so you can sleep.” She sauntered up
and stood beside me, swaying a little in place.
I asked her, “Have you been drinking? You seem very loose.”
“Da. Da. I’m very loose.” She put an arm around my shoulder and leaned
in to share a secret. “I have been drinking vodka.” She sighed. “And I feel so
good.” Then she kissed me with those red lips and rubbed her tanned body
against my side.
“Shh! Someone will hear you. You’ll get in trouble.”
She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, then offered me a puff by pushing it
between my lips. “Here, it is good tobacco. Turkish.” She took a few drags
and began to laugh. “Gina says you were a bad boy today. You made Yuri
angry by waiting to take video. Is this right?”
“Yes, I was taking the video and the clouds were about to come in. I
guess I got carried away. We never get a clear day like that.”
She seemed to agree. “It is okay. You got the video, and Yuri got his
shorts in a bunch. It is funny. He is a real pain in the ass.” She tried to
straighten up. “Okay, you go now. But can you bring me a cup of tea before
you leave for good? It will help me stay awake.” She saw the worry in my
eyes. “Do not worry. I will wake up.”
I dropped off the hot black tea with her, and sure enough, she seemed
much more alert. She gave me a hug good night and I walked away.
On my way to the toilet unit, I saw a light on in the maintenance shack
and walked by to see if someone had forgotten to switch it off. I knocked
lightly on the door then pushed it open, expecting to see an empty room.
Lada was bending over the workbench.
She looked up. “Hey,” she said softly. “What are you doing here at this
hour?”
“I saw the light. Are you still working on the bones?” I walked into the
shed a few feet. “What’d you find?”
“Well, I’m just finishing.” She motioned for me to close the door and
come closer. “Here,” she said. “I will show you.” She pointed to a series of
bones she had lined up. “Here are your bones, and they are almost all from
deer. This bigger one is from something larger like elk or moose, but I’m not
sure what it is. Not human, any of them, thank God.”
“Great,” I said. “Are they very old?”
“Nyet, not more than a year. The big one is maybe two years dead.” She
smiled at me and straightened her hair. “Are you off duty now? Ready to
have some fun?” She reached across to the table behind me. She retrieved a
small flask, uncapped it, and took a swig. “Here, it’s brandy. You like
brandy, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sure.” I took a swig. “Hey, this is pretty good.” I handed her back
the flask, and she turned her back to me. “My muscles are killing me. Can
you rub my back? Right here it is hurting.” She backed into me, pushing me
back against the table. “Here, rub. Like this.” She put my hand against her
back and moved it up and down.
I did as she told me, and I could feel her heat through her light jersey. She
stretched and raised her arms over her head, arching her back while I rubbed
her sore muscles. As I rubbed harder, she pushed her butt against me until I
felt her intentions, and my anticipation rose. She reached behind her to stroke
my side. Then she turned around so that my hands touched her breasts for a
moment. We kissed. She pulled her top off over her head, and we both
fumbled with our clothes.
***
During the night, an animal tested the fence again. I stepped outside and
walked to the north fence to see what had happened. We didn’t see the
creature that had tripped the sensors.
On the way back to the maintenance shed, I stopped by the east gate to
look at our little cemetery just outside the fence. Earlier in the day, right after
dinner, we had held a brief service to commemorate the burial of Diana’s
body outside the fence in the meadow. As usual, Volkov said a few words. So
did Dubinin and a few others who knew her well, even though we had all
been together such a short time. Little did I realize how many graves we
would end up digging in Zona.
 CHAPTER 24
June 1

I awoke early from sleeping in Lada’s arms in the maintenance shed and
sneaked back to my quarters. When I entered T3, I found that the good doctor
was lying in a love embrace with our psychologist, Valeriya Bogdanova, who
was in an equally decadent state of undress. She had blond hair,
contemplative eyes, and a long Scandinavian face. She was in terrific shape
for her forty-something years, putting the doctor to shame for his extra
decade of living.
I squeezed into my space to change clothes before alerting Petrowski
about a surprise meeting called by Volkov. Then I bolted to the gathering.
Volkov, wearing what looked like a freshly pressed olive-colored
uniform, held the meeting before breakfast to discuss the breakdown in
discipline he was witnessing among the guards and scientists. During the
night, one of the guards—Tamara, to be specific—had been found in a
drunken state and disrobed with fellow guard Regina while on duty. This had
left the camp unprotected on the north side. Furthermore, some of the
salvaged liquor from the pass excursion had disappeared from the armory.
Volkov said he did not want to comment on the level of debauchery that
was reported for some of the scientists on the expedition. Dr. Dubinin was
responsible for their behavior, and he was advised to bring order to his staff
before the mission was endangered.
Volkov was on a rampage. He let everyone know how disappointed he
was with their performance and conduct. He swore that if this behavior
continued, he would destroy all the liquor in camp without any remorse. He
seemed to attribute the decline in discipline to the presence of a fresh supply
of alcohol on-site but did not address the underlying issue of why people felt
so carefree in general. He seemed unaware of the problem.
When Volkov finished, Petrowski asked him to sit, motioning for Irina
and me to join them. I was apprehensive about it since the debauchery
Volkov mentioned might have been directed at Lada and me. Fortunately that
never came up.
Petrowski asked, “Max, have you noticed that people are acting
differently since we came into Zona? They seem more emotional.”
Volkov was very direct. “What I have noticed is the complete and utter
breakdown in discipline and decorum by my guard staff and many others. It
is incorrigible for guards to engage in sexual exploits when they are supposed
to protect this camp.” The whole room heard him.
Tamara and Regina flushed red and scurried out of the room. I wondered
what had happened last night after I left Tamara on duty.
“But you must have noticed feeling more relaxed since we arrived here.”
The doctor tried to address the topic again. “Don’t you feel happier now that
we are here?”
“Oh yes. I feel happy that we made our goal of reaching Zona. I am
proud of what we have accomplished so far.” Volkov looked earnestly at
Petrowski. “So yes, I feel relieved that we are here. Is that what you mean?”
“Not exactly.” Petrowski glanced at both Irina and me for help. “Have
your allergies been bothering you since we arrived? Any sneezing or hay
fever? Coughing?”
“Oh, yes, a little bit. But I don’t have any allergies. Never have.” Volkov
looked at each of us. “But nearly everyone else has trouble with hay fever.
How about you, Irina? Is it bothering you?”
Irina looked uncomfortable. “Yes, it bothers me too. But I think the
doctor wanted to ask whether you have felt more emotional since we have
been here in Zona. Many people have been affected.”
Volkov seemed surprised then turned back to Petrowski. “Is this true,
Mikhail? Are people feeling more emotional now? Is that what you want to
talk about?”
The doctor seemed unsure of how to respond. It was clear Volkov had no
idea of what was going on around him. How was that possible? Maybe he
didn’t feel any changes.
We were saved from further awkward conversation when Valeriya joined
us at the table. She sat next to the doctor and beamed with contentment. She
sensed that she had interrupted us and inquired what we were talking about.
Petrowski explained, and she clarified, “Oh. You are talking about how
everyone is losing control over their emotions. Yes, it is a strange
phenomenon.”
 “What do you mean, Valeriya, by ‘losing control’?” Volkov swiveled his
head to see all our faces. He seemed genuinely concerned that he was missing
something.
Valeriya reached over to take his hand, which he tried to withdraw, but
she held on. “Haven’t they explained it to you?” She looked at the doctor and
saw he was staring at her hand on Volkov’s. She let go and grinned
sheepishly at Petrowski.
“Max, this is how it is,” she continued. “All of us, at least all of us except
you, it seems, have noticed that our emotions are changing. We are happier
and more joyful since we have come into Zona. But we also seem to be
angrier sometimes too.” She looked around the table to see if we agreed. “It’s
like all of our emotions are amplified and we have less control over how we
feel.”
“We have stronger emotions than we usually do. The air smells fresher.
Colors are brighter. Things feel better or worse than usual,” Irina said,
looking embarrassed. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I noticed it in the cave yesterday,” I said without thinking. “When I saw
the bones on the floor of the cave, I felt sickened and afraid. Much more than
I would have expected. And I’m happier about other things too.” I shut up
before I said too much. Irina beamed at me.
“How come I haven’t noticed this myself?” asked Volkov. “I don’t feel
any different.”
“I don’t know,” Valeriya said. “It probably affects everyone differently,
and maybe some not at all.”
“But what is making us this way? What has changed?” I asked.
Petrowski and I thought it might be the air, something that made the air
seem sweet. Perhaps something in it affected us. Valeriya thought it could be
an emotional change that we didn’t understand since most of the changes
were positive.
“It may not be our emotions but how well we regulate our emotions,” she
said. “Everyone might react differently. We will have to monitor how people
behave as we go along. We need to see if it is progressive. Will the effect
increase with time or reach a plateau we can learn to live with? If it goes too
far, it could present a problem . . .” Valeriya seemed to be holding something
back, I thought.
Volkov seemed interested but confused. He turned to Irina again, his face
filled with concern. “I still don’t understand.”
“After all we said, you don’t see, Max?” Irina stared at him in disbelief.
“I think something in the air like pheromones or hormones are making us all,
except you, more emotional—angry, happy, horny—yes, Max, horny.” She
looked at the others. “Max, we are all constantly horny and emotional. That’s
why everyone is having sex all the time. We can’t help being horny, or
aggressive, or angry.”
Valeriya added her concern, saying, “On the one hand, it is exciting. But
left with no control over our emotions, this euphoria can cause trouble—
competition, arguments, even fighting among ourselves. It could be
dangerous.”
***
Afterward, Irina and I had some time to ourselves, and we had a good idea of
how we would use it. The lab was occupied by Kira, Lada, and Yana, our
trusty plant taxonomist, who were busy identifying and classifying the plants
they had collected over the last few days. That left my quarters as the only
place we could find some privacy. We made the most of the hour and a half
we had together. Irina helped me put up new makeshift curtains, which
Valeriya donated to the cause. I think she expected to become a regular in the
doctor’s life and, therefore, also in my shared abode.
We both lay on my bunk with sweat dripping into the sheet while we took
a breather and cooled off. I was beginning to wonder if Irina was taking some
sort of supplement that kept her energy up during our encounters because she
was so demanding. I enjoyed it, of course, but I would need more rest to keep
up relationships with her and Lada at the same time.
We lay there next to each other and talked about what was happening in
the camp. Irina was privy to the gossip she heard each night in the sleeping
commons of the kitchen, which also doubled as the women’s bedchamber.
The six women—Irina, Lada, Valeriya, Kira, Yana, and Nina—shared space
and stories. Word had gotten around that Irina and I were lovers, but she
didn’t comment on my also seeing Lada almost daily. I didn’t volunteer
anything.
According to the local gossip, Kira and Maxim were involved, and
Regina had an interest in him too, which seemed to trouble Kira. Yana had a
crush on Igor and was about to do something about it. Mikhail slept with
Nina, but it was not exclusive. The drunken incident between Tamara and
Regina was put down to drunken enthusiasm and bad timing.
The great mysteries in the women’s minds were Volkov, Dubinin, and
Yuri. They decided that Volkov was just not interested in women and was
resolved to see out his duty. Dubinin showed some interest in Valeriya, but
she seemed dedicated to the doctor. Dubinin was also interested in Yana, but
she was not enthusiastic about him. Then there was Yuri. No one understood
the man, and most thought he was just plain rude. The only thing he seemed
obsessed with was Irina and her protection. One of the women had asked
Irina if she was interested in him, and she told me now that she found him
efficient but not at all appealing.
She would rather share bodily fluids with me. That led to another round
of lovemaking and the inevitable panting and sweating afterward. I dozed off.
When I woke, Irina was propped up on an elbow reading through my
stack of photocopies. I froze. She had found my copy of Randall’s Journal X.
Oh shit! I’m a dead man.
I received an icy green stare, then she went back to reading. I didn’t say
anything but hugged her with my face on her belly. She resisted, leaving me
where I was, and read on. I decided it would be better for her to speak first. I
kissed her belly and breasts, and finally she pushed me off her so she could
sit up straight. I made sure the Makarov was out of her reach.
Her face was set like stone as she waved the document at me. “So you
have been lying to me? You had this all along and didn’t tell me about it?”
She carefully rolled it into a tight club as her jaw tightened, and she began to
hit me with it, quietly at first, then with schoolyard swearing. She hit hard
enough that I had to turn my shoulder into her to let the blows fall there and
on my back rather than on my head. I managed to get the journal out of her
hands and threw it on the floor next to the bed.
Then she took it up a notch. “You fucker! Why didn’t you tell me you
had this? I thought you might have a copy but was afraid to ask you.”
 “You were afraid? Why would you be afraid? I thought you were keeping
it from me.”
She punched me in the shoulder a couple of times. “Why would I have
it?” She stopped hitting me, and I grabbed her wrists to keep her from
striking me again. She let me put my arms around her. “How did you get it
anyway? From Godunov?”
I looked at her to see what emotion was about to be unleashed on me if I
told her the truth. Her anger seemed to have lessened, and her lip trembled. I
couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“Yes, I got it from him the night he died in the square.”
Then she suddenly froze and turned her head to stare at me in disbelief.
She pulled away from me and looked around frantically. She held her arms
up across her chest as if to protect herself from me.
“So you killed him, then?” A look of horror filled her eyes, and she tried
to back farther away. “That night in the square? Is that where you went?”
“What? What do you mean?” I couldn’t believe her accusation. She was
about to scream, so I put a hand over her mouth and pulled her toward me.
She was shaking uncontrollably and fought to get away.
“No. No,” I said. “I didn’t kill anyone. How can you say that?”
She struggled and tried to scream, but I pushed her down on the bunk and
held her hands as she fought me. “Irina, stop it. You’re acting crazy! I didn’t
kill anyone. You have to believe me.” She kept fighting me but stopped
trying to scream, so I took my hand off her mouth.
“How can you say that I killed Godunov?” I asked. “He helped me, that’s
all.”
“I don’t believe you. You arranged to meet him and then he was dead.
You must have killed him. I just figured it out now.”
“No. No. I went to meet him in the square and got something from him.”
I lay on top of her, holding her hands over her head so she wouldn’t hit me.
“Someone was following him and he couldn’t talk. He ran after that man—
the man who must have killed him.” She stopped struggling and I let her
hands free.
“If you didn’t kill him, who did?” She didn’t believe me, I could tell.
“I thought Yuri did.”
 She stopped breathing. She looked confused, and her eyes squinted at me
as if she was trying to determine if I had just lied or not. “Yuri? Why Yuri?”
I saw that this idea had never occurred to her. Maybe she didn’t know.
“He disappeared just before I proceeded to see Godunov. You were talking to
him on the phone. He was outside the hotel and then he vanished. When I
went to meet Godunov, there was another man hiding in the bushes nearby.
Godunov said he needed to deal with him. I thought he meant he had to get
him off his tail. He gave me a package and someone chased me through the
park. Luckily I made it back to the hotel.”
“But Yuri said he needed to do something with the car. That was why I
talked to him on the phone.”
“Did you tell him I was meeting Godunov?”
“Yes, I think I did, now that you mention it. You think he . . .” A look of
shock came over her face.
I couldn’t believe this. She really didn’t know.
“But you knew I was getting something from Godunov, right?”
“Yes, you told me in the bar.”
“And you told Yuri?”
“Oh my God.” She looked horrified. “I think I did. Why? What did I do?”
“Did you see Yuri again that night?”
“No. He telephoned that someone had run into the car and he needed to
take it to the shop. That I should take a taxi home, remember?”
I remembered the night very clearly. Yuri had disappeared before I met
Godunov. He had been wearing a long black coat like the man in the park,
but Godunov had apparently thought the man was FSB. And the car accident
was too convenient to have occurred on the same night that Godunov was run
down by a black sedan. I had heard him laughing about it with Igor recently.
He must have been the one who killed Godunov. But why?
I looked directly at Irina and asked her, “So you knew about the journal?
Why didn’t you say something?”
“I wanted to tell you, but Uncle Boris told me not to. We knew that the
FSB investigation had recovered the journal because Max told us he brought
it out with him last year. So they had to have it. My uncle tried but could not
obtain it from them.” She looked pleadingly at me, like I had to believe her.
 “But why was it so important?”
“I’m not sure”—her eyes went wild—“but Boris said it was very
important that we get it before you could read it. I think he thought your
uncle had written something in it about one of their previous expeditions. I’m
not sure.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around me. “I was supposed to
find out if you had it and, if you did, to steal it from you.” She lowered her
head. “I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know I would fall in love with you.”
She looked up at me with sad eyes, all the emerald light extinguished from
them.
“But you were willing to sleep with me anyway in order to get the
journal? Is that what happened?” I was angry then. “Is that why you suddenly
decided to stay with me?”
“No, it’s not like that. I wanted to be with you.” Then she said quietly,
“And to get the document too.” She put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked down at the bed.
“Who else knows about the journal? Why is it so important?” I lifted her
chin to see her expression. “The truth this time.”
“What do you mean, ‘truth’? I don’t know why my uncle needed it so
badly. He said he had to have it or the expedition would be affected. Maybe
he was afraid of what your uncle said about the expedition. I don’t know all
that. Only Max, Boris, and Yuri knew about it, besides me. At that time we
didn’t know you. They thought you might do something to interfere with the
expedition. To stop it. We didn’t know.” She looked down again and began
to sob quietly.
I looked at Irina for a long time, not speaking. I was very disappointed.
“Please, Grant. You must believe me. I would not hurt you. I love you.”
I was in shock. She said she loved me, but she had used me and lied to
me. Now I wondered if she loved me at all. Or was it all an act? How could I
trust her?
“So when did you stop playing Mata Hari?” I asked. “When did you stop
pretending to love me and stop spying on me? When did you start to care?”
She could not answer. She buried her face in my neck and cried.
“You’re telling me that you didn’t know that Yuri killed Godunov? Do
you know if Boris ordered him to do it?”
 She raised her head and looked horrified at the thought.
“So how well do you know Yuri? He has been your bodyguard a long
time. Does he tell you his assignments? Are you friends?”
Irina raised her head and looked distraught, like I had discovered
something new. She looked away and shed more tears. They dripped down
her face and off her chin.
“How did you find out? It’s my greatest regret. I didn’t mean to sleep
with him, but I was very angry and sad. Too much to drink one night and he
took advantage of me when I was weak.” She tried to control her emotions to
tell the story. “I was at a party two months before meeting you. I found out
my old boyfriend was leaving me, and I lost control. I drank with my friends
and did drugs. I was a fool. At the end of the evening, I could hardly walk, so
Yuri carried me to the car. I must have been very drunk because he treated
me well and I kissed him. Then, in the back of the limo, we made love. I
woke up in his apartment and was horrified. I don’t remember a thing.”
She cried openly now, a gusher of tears streaming down her face. “But I
couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t tell my uncle. Had to keep Yuri as my driver.
And he has been obsessed with me ever since. And because I let my guard
down one night, he claims he loves me, and now he hates you.” She looked at
me with unbelievable sadness.
I had one last question: In the dark that night, did Yuri intend to run over
Godunov or run over me?
 CHAPTER 25
June 8

A week passed quickly as we adjusted to our new home in Zona. I kept busy
trying to find out what had happened to Randall. I led three excursions out of
camp looking for any signs of him, supported by Mikhail, Nina, Regina, or
Tamara as backup troops. They were all now trained in the use of the ASH
gun for these trips.
Twice we searched for traces where someone coming down from the pass
might have deviated off the road. Finding nothing, we investigated the
possibility that Randall, Veruschka, and Katrina had all walked through the
forest directly from the pass, but again we found no evidence that the
survivors might have passed that way. We then traced the trail along East
Creek north to its origin just below the pass and followed it all the way down
to the second meadow at the confluence of East Creek and Beaver Creek, the
name we had given to the stream that flowed from the west with the beaver
dams on it. If there had been evidence that the survivors had passed that way,
it was now long gone.
The emotional conditions in camp continued to change as most members
of the expedition grew increasingly positive about their lives and interested in
exploring their sexual desires. Maxim and Nina had become inseparable.
Petrowski and Valeriya regularly occupied my quarters, which I learned to
accept even though there was little privacy for them or me and my guests.
The others in camp became extremely freewheeling in their relationships and
utilized any vehicle, sledge, or room that was available for romping in the
evening. Only Volkov and Yuri abstained.
It struck me that Yuri and Igor were becoming more aggressive and
argumentative in general. Yuri was beginning to object to Volkov about his
assignments and practically stalked Irina whenever she left her laboratory.
Igor was demanding of his men and becoming attached to Regina, the young
guard who slept with him often. Regina had rounded facial features as if she
had some Siberian heritage, which could explain her dark profile and hair.
She was funny and had a way of making you feel important. It irked him that
she was also with Tamara, her roommate.
The only person I was not very friendly with now was Irina, since our last
reckoning in my quarters. I wasn’t sure what to feel about her confession.
Perhaps if I hadn’t heard her story all at once, it might have been easier to
absorb. As things stood, I was preoccupied with my search for Randall, and
she buried herself searching for the cause of the changes in our emotions. She
suspected it was an airborne chemical source. We were no longer sexually
involved even though we both cared about each other. We just couldn’t
reconcile our differences.
Our breakup was having an effect on Yuri, who now treated me with
even more contempt than he had ever shown before. It was at the point where
I chose not to go out on patrols with him, at least not if we were to be alone
together, because I was sure I would have an accident—not a real accident,
but something like the accidental misfiring of a weapon that could occur
when the safety was off and it was pointed at my back.
I told the doctor about this, and he suggested we talk to Volkov about it. I
replied that Volkov was the type of commander who would confront both
Yuri and me and make us shake hands or something ridiculous like that,
which would probably ensure that I had a mishap. And I would lose face with
the rest of the guards, who disliked snitches.
Yuri was taking his mission as Irina’s guard seriously. He now hung
around her all the time, staking out the lab facility when she was there,
following her if she had gone out of camp on a foray to collect plants, and
even shadowing her more personal movements. I think he would have moved
into the kitchen where she slept at night, if the other women were not there to
object. I knew this exaggerated interest was not of Irina’s doing because I
saw her admonish him for being a pest more than once. In fact, she yelled at
him once during dinner for sitting close by her like her keeper. After that, he
moved to a different table but never took his eyes off her. He was obsessed
with her, and after Irina’s admission of their sexual encounter, I understood
why. Puppy love was one thing, but stalking and obsession were another.
The biologists were making progress inventorying the plants they were
collecting on a daily basis. They were overjoyed to discover many new
species and talked about how they would love to publish their findings. Their
plant presses were already reaching capacity, and they were just starting to
catalog the collection. Yana, the plant taxonomist, was in heaven after
identifying what she called new genera of plants, not just new species but
whole new categories of plant life.
Irina, Dubinin, Petrowski, and Valeriya formed a committee to establish
the root cause of our “group euphoria,” as Valeriya called it. She and
Petrowski tried to identify specific behaviors and symptoms while Dubinin
and Irina, our expedition chemists, tried to isolate the source.
Dubinin and Irina tried to isolate an airborne source and had some
success. They utilized surgical masks the doctor had brought with him on the
trip to filter all air that they breathed, and this led to useful results. The masks
were designed only to stop dust particles down to a standard particle size, but
the filters removed a lot of the pollen from the air they breathed. The four test
subjects noticed a reduction in their allergy symptoms right away, but it made
no noticeable difference to their emotional states. That led Irina to conclude
that the emotional effects we all experienced were caused by as yet
undiscovered airborne pheromones.
Irina set to work isolating the possible sources of airborne chemicals to
identify fragrances that might benefit her employer, Fascinations Boutique,
and to learn what chemicals affected our emotional changes. Certainly any
plant that created euphoria or acted as an aphrodisiac would have commercial
value. The problem was, which chemical? Or were there several compounds
causing our heightened emotions?
She designed a series of experiments to narrow down which plant or
plants caused the effect. She enlisted Kira to help her collect plants that were
flowering and those that seemed to have the strongest odors in general. Then
they made extracts from them that could be analyzed with the lab gear she
had at her disposal. Anticipating the need to do this type of analysis on
flowers for perfume research, the expedition had brought a range of
equipment and instruments. She had a centrifuge, filtering pumps, wet
chemical test kits, and even a compact gas chromatograph-mass
spectrometer, or GC-MS instrument.
At the same time, the doctor decided to test the few drugs he had brought
with him that might help alleviate the worst effects from the airborne
chemicals. He started with the two mood stabilizers he had in stock and
found that one of them, a generic form of Neurontin, seemed to reduce his
own libido, although it had no effect on Valeriya’s sex drive. He found that
lorazepam, an antianxiety drug, also reduced the emotional highs and lows
and aggression as expected. Those were the only drugs that were effective,
and he had limited quantities of them. He discussed it with Volkov and would
reserve his meager drug supply for only the worst displays of aggression or
anxiety.
***
I was enlisted to act as a guard for a group of people going out to East Creek,
where several of our staff had constructed a shallow pool for bathing.
Tamara, Andre, and I would act as security while the others bathed. We
escorted six women—Irina, Lada, Kira, Yana, Valeriya, and Nina—to the
pool. I had the guard point on the trail north of the pool, where I could watch
the pool from a distance and also intercept any animal that might come down
the trail from the pass. I carried two shotguns loaded with heavy sabot
rounds.
It was a pleasant afternoon, warm and muggy with just a hint of a breeze
in the lower level of the forest. The air was perfumed with a lavender scent,
inviting one to relax and not worry about a thing. The women wasted no time
disrobing and submerging in the cool water when we reached the pool. They
helped one another wash their hair and seemed to luxuriate in the pool.
Then I had the sensation that I was being watched. It was very mild,
something I had experienced before, something nonthreatening. Scanning the
forest around me, I saw the light gray wolf I had seen several times along the
fence while on guard duty. It was about thirty yards away up the trail,
watching me with his tongue lolled out, nonaggressive. He seemed to want
me to follow him up the trail. He started to walk slowly that way then
stopped to turn back and see if I was coming. Overriding logic, some basic
instinct told me to follow him.
I looked around and everything was fine at the pool, the other guards at
their positions. They were not able to see the wolf from there.
The dire wolf led me slowly along the trail for fifty yards, waiting
patiently for me every few yards, turning and mouthing a low whine. I
walked carefully, staying ten yards away, not afraid of the wolf, just curious
why he wanted me to follow. He stopped and used his paw to dig in the
ground at a spot just off the trail. He looked up at me and whined. He stepped
away up the trail and watched what I would do.
Kneeling down to see what he had pawed, I found what looked like an
orange stick. I reached for it and he whined again, closer to me now, only ten
feet away. The object was a round lead pencil.
I was suddenly enthralled and happy as could be. I looked at the wolf and
said, “Good boy. Good boy.” I felt that he was pleased too. How is that
possible?
I examined the pencil, the lower inch or two broken off, the rest roughed
up from being buried. It still retained a good eraser in a black metal holder. It
was orange and black with a large orange C on it, a symbol that I recognized.
It was a Chicago Bears pencil, one of those strange things that fans buy when
they visit the city. Uncle Randall and I had bought a package of thirty-six at
the clubhouse when we attended a game there four years ago.
I had proof that Randall had been here.
At least his pencil was here. Of all the things to find . . .
I looked up at the wolf and he almost smiled at me, the way malamutes
have a way of grinning. He seemed happy and waited for me, so I thanked
him. Then I looked all around the area to see if there was any more evidence
but found no more clues of Randall’s presence.
“Grant, where are you? Grant?” Tamara called, and I knew I needed to
go. The wolf turned and trotted up the trail away from me and the pond,
disappearing around a bend.
I bent a little branch on a tree near the spot so I could find it again later,
something Uncle Randall had taught me years ago while camping. “This is
how you mark a trail,” he had said. “Or make a blaze on a live tree with your
hatchet.”
Trotting down the trail, I called out, “Hey! It’s me. Don’t shoot.” Within
twenty yards ahead of me, Tamara stood on the trail. I said, “Hey! Here I am.
Had to do something.”
“You can’t just disappear like that, idiot. I thought a lion got you. It
would serve you right.” She laughed darkly. “Come on, let’s go.”
We rejoined the group as the other women were getting dressed. We
walked back to camp, and we all dispersed to our activities. I called Tamara
over to show her what I had found, knowing she would be interested.
“How could you possibly find that in the brush by the trail?” she asked,
taking the pencil from my hand. “So this means the survivors traveled down
that trail at least as far as the pond.”
“Yes, it means that they made it away from the lions for a while and
found a trail. It also shows that they didn’t cross the pass going the other
direction.”
“But you saw something move there?” Tamara asked, not quite believing
my luck. “That is how you noticed it?”
I couldn’t say that I had befriended a wolf or she wouldn’t have believed
me.
“So, idiot, I will see you after dinner, da?” she asked, bumping her
shoulder into me casually. “I think Regina will be out tonight, so you can stay
with me. If she comes back, she can . . . We will see, yes?”
“Sure,” I said. “See you later.”
As I walked to my quarters, I decided to call the wolf Shadow, since he
seemed to be following me, even if at a distance.
***
Tamara and I were together in her quarters after dinner when we heard a fight
break out near T7 on the east side of camp. We both put on clothes and went
to see what was happening. When we got there, we found Maxim and
Mikhail engaged in a wrestling match that was punctuated by fists at times.
They were swearing at each other and going at it pretty hard. Hard enough to
break bones and noses—that serious. I suspected it had to do with women or
at least one woman in particular. Sure enough, a scantily clad Nina stood by
the side of T7 yelling at the men to stop fighting.
A circle of onlookers cheered on one man or the other, and that wasn’t
helping things. A few of them were drunk and pushed the fighters back
together whenever they got knocked backward. Both men were pretty badly
bloodied after five minutes, and I asked Tamara if we should jump in to break
it up. She said we should, except that Maxim was winning and she liked him.
We hesitated until Igor arrived and got between the two pugilists. He took a
shot to his head for his trouble, but the fight stopped.
Volkov arrived at that point and called for witnesses. Tamara and I
ducked back just in time to avoid having to finger anyone, but it was obvious
to him what had happened. He noticed Nina in her underwear and
commanded her, Maxim, and Mikhail to come to the office for a face-to-face
meeting.
He told everyone else to go back to bed then marched off to the office,
pushing Nina ahead of him, grumbling about her state of undress. The
meeting was loud and very harsh. Most people stood around long enough to
hear that the men would be confined to quarters for a week, without any
visitors, but would be released to carry out their duties during the day as
needed. Nina would have special duty in the kitchen and sleep there for a
week to think about her lack of discipline. When it sounded like Volkov was
finished, we all vanished into our abodes.
It was a very warm night with no wind and high humidity. I woke in the
middle of the dark period, now only about an hour long as we approached
midsummer, and untangled myself from Tamara’s naked embrace to step
outside and cool down. The air was rich and sweet as a light rain began to
fall. The cool rain felt pleasant on my overheated skin, so I stayed outside a
few minutes to chill, something we didn’t get to do often in the semitropical
weather of Zona.
I heard a voice nearby and realized that Regina was on patrol talking on
her radio. She was pulling double duty tonight. I reached inside the cab of T6
to pull on my shorts and walked over to talk to her in the rain.
As I approached her, she asked, “What are you doing here? You aren’t on
duty until six, right?”
“Yeah.” I stood next to her under a canvas canopy attached to the armory,
out of the rain. “You saw the fight, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I was right there in the cab with those guys when they got into it.
Pretty weird.”
“What started it? I mean, I assume it was Mikhail, but why?”
“I saw the whole thing. I was with Mikhail tonight. But have you seen
how they have their bunks arranged in there? We were all side by side, doing
it next to each other, when Mika pulled Nina over and got on her. She didn’t
really object because they’ve done each other before. But Maxim got angry.”
“So that was it? I thought they shared women all the time.” I looked out
at the fence in the rain. It was coming down heavily now. I heard little hissing
noises where the rain was creating shorts on the insulators.
She looked up at me. “Women, yes, and maybe there is more to it. It
looked like a different kind of jealousy to me.”
Her radio sounded. “Hey, Regina, I’m showing motion of some sort just
north of the fence on your left. Do you see anything?” It was Igor at sensor
control.
“No, I don’t see anything. Let me try night vision a sec.” She donned the
only pair of night-vision goggles we had with us on the expedition and
scanned the area. I walked with her over to the armory for a better view. “No
. . . nothing. Are you sure it’s not the rain? It has been screwing with the
sensors lately.”
“Maybe. It’s still there but moving to the right. Nothing on heat sensors.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I looked out into the storm. My
sixth sense told me we were being watched. “Hey, Gina.” I pointed. “I think
there might be something there.” For an instant there was movement of some
kind. “There, I think.” We couldn’t see anything in the rain.
“Hey, Igor. Hit the lights on the north side for a minute, will you?”
Regina believed I had a sixth sense. She pulled off the goggles just in time.
The lights came on, and we could just make out a shadow in the rain,
moving away from the fence to our right. “Okay, we see something north of
T6 and moving away to the right,” she updated Igor.
“I see it on sensors too. But it is really faint . . . Lost it.”
So the lions were checking out our camp at night. We rarely saw the
sabertooths in daylight. And we couldn’t detect them easily in the rain. But
tonight’s probe of the fence seemed to be over, and I was getting chilly.
“Okay, Gina, I’m going to bed. See you when you get off.”
I walked back to T6 and crawled in next to Tamara, who was dead asleep.
She rolled over next to me and responded to my cool body, snuggling into my
side with her head on my shoulder and an arm over my chest. I slept well
until Regina stripped off her wet clothes and crawled in to sleep after her
shift. She woke Tamara up for some lovemaking. Then we all dozed again
with our arms and legs intertwined until morning.
This was indeed a strange new world in which we found ourselves. A lion
roared during the night as gentle rain fell on the roof of our cozy tractor
home.
 CHAPTER 26
June 9

The next morning, after my six-hour shift on guard duty, I led Volkov, Yuri,
Irina, and Tamara out to where I had found the pencil. We were all armed
except Irina. We scoured the area for anything else the survivors might have
dropped along the path. We proceeded nearly to the lower meadow, now
certain they had gone along the East Creek trail, but we had no luck.
While at the other meadow, we examined it for survivor clues and to
evaluate it as an alternate site for our camp. Volkov and I both thought it
would be a good idea to move farther away from the saber-toothed lions,
especially since they seemed to be actively approaching our current camp at
night.
The meadow was larger than our existing locale, had a stream running
along one edge, featured a larger dry flat area on which to position our camp,
and was two miles farther from the pass. The stream being so close could
attract more animals to camp, and that might be a security risk. On the other
hand, we wouldn’t have to travel far for good water and bathing. The
downside of moving here was that there was no road for our vehicles, and we
still didn’t know much about what lay to the south. The lack of a road could
be overcome by hard work, which Volkov thought was just the remedy for
his guards’ lack of discipline.
Volkov planned to send out patrols to map the area south of the meadow,
and for now we would refer to the location as Campsite Zona 2. We walked
back along the southern trail that led directly to camp as he evaluated it for
roadway construction. Along the way, he decided there were no major
obstacles to a road except the large number of trees that would have to be
removed and cut low to the ground. Volkov seemed to perk up at the idea of a
major new project. The rest of us were not as sanguine.
When we returned to camp, I walked with Irina to her lab because she
had volunteered to give me a summary of her experiments with plant extracts.
“What I have found so far is that there are several chemicals that are similar
to human hormones in structure. One is almost the same as human growth
hormone, or HGH. Imagine if we have a plant substitute for that. It would be
worth millions.” She smiled brightly.
“Wow! You have been busy.” I saw a lineup of small labeled bottles
containing tinted liquids.
“These are more extracts,” she went on. “There are some that have very
pleasant olfactory signatures, so those would be possible perfume and
cologne bases. And there are several that are similar to human pheromones
and sex hormones, like estrogen and testosterone. That is just the first cut at
identifying compounds. We have a lot of work to do just to tie the chemicals
back to the individual flower or plant they came from.” She directed her
attention to the filtration unit and turned it off.
I was impressed she had such a handle on the chemicals already. “How
much can you do here with the equipment you have? Can you ID specific
compounds?”
“It would take weeks with a full lab to isolate them individually.” She
seemed concerned. “What I hope to do now is tie the substance back to the
plants that produce them and then prepare samples that we can take back with
us.”
“So how does this help us deal with the emotional highs and lows?” I
asked. It was nice to know about the chemicals and where they came from,
but it didn’t solve the immediate problem.
“It doesn’t but it might help us target the right chemical. It would take a
miracle to find an antidote that we could all take to stay calm.”
She stopped talking and moved closer to me, biting her lip as she did so.
“Grant, I’ve missed you.” She reached up and put her arms around my neck.
She leaned in to kiss me, but I hesitated and she stopped. “What is it? Can’t
we even kiss now?” She pulled away and looked miserable.
“Wait,” I said and pulled her over to me by her shoulders. Then I kissed
her lips. Her eyes welled, and she kissed me more earnestly this time.
“I still love you even if you don’t love me anymore.” She buried her head
in my chest.
Then Yuri yanked the lab door open and stepped inside. He saw us
standing together and glared darkly at me. “What are you doing here? You
shouldn’t be here.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the door
before I could resist.
I am not someone who rises to anger easily, but that made me furious.
“Take your hands off me, you ass! Who the hell do you think you are?”
I stopped inside the door and jerked my arm away from him. He grabbed
me again, but I pushed him away from me. He tripped and fell against the lab
wall. He jumped up, furious now, and tried to hit me. I managed to block his
blow and landed a lucky punch to his jaw. He came at me again, but I
blocked him again and pushed him back against the wall. We glared at each
other, up close and personal.
“You should go,” he announced just as Irina came between us.
“Stop it, you two.” She shoved in between us, pushing me away from
Yuri. “Yuri, stop this! Grant, you must stop too.”
“I am only protecting you from this trouble,” Yuri sneered.
I was ready to fight and was confused by Irina’s actions. She had pushed
me away and held Yuri’s arm to keep him from striking me. She seemed to
be telling me to leave with her body language, and I took that as final. “Oh, I
see,” I said without really seeing anything. “I’ll leave.” I stormed out the
door.
She called after me, but I didn’t stop. I heard Yuri telling her what she
should do.
“Get out of here, you strange man. Get out!” she screamed.
Several people in camp gave me inquiring looks. Others pretended not to
hear.
***
After dinner, Lada and I lay in her bed in the repair shack after making love.
Regina came in and undressed, slipping into bed next to Lada. “That Igor is
one nasty prick. He said I don’t interest him anymore because he knows that I
make love with Tamara.” She settled into bed and played with Lada’s hair.
Soon they were kissing and getting hot. I didn’t know before then that they
were involved.
Regina broke the action for a moment and said to me, “Grant, Tamara
asked if you wanted to sleep with her tonight. She loves sleeping with me,
but I don’t have all the right parts. Or go and ask her to come here. We can
all get sexy.” She sat up and looked at me, then Lada. “What do you say we
do a foursome? I’ve never done that. It could be kinky fun.”
Lada added, eyeing me cunningly, “Or go sleep with Irina. She is very
sad and madly in love with you. Make her happy and fuck her brains out.”
She and Gina laughed at that. “No, really—she looks miserable. She told me
she was horny as hell after working with all those hormones.” She looked at
Gina. “Or bring her here and we can keep her entertained.” They both looked
hopeful.
Gina said, “She has such beautiful skin. And those green eyes are
lovely.”
I rolled my eyes, liking the idea, but I thought I had enjoyed enough sex
for one day. I staggered back to my quarters, crawled into bed for real
slumber, and fell asleep listening to Valeriya and Petrowski going at it in his
bunk with artful enthusiasm.
***
The next morning I had guard duty, and it was raining heavily. Nothing of
note happened during my shift. I went for breakfast afterward and ran into
Irina, who was finishing her coffee. She asked me to come down to her lab
and see some new results. The omnipresent Yuri followed at a distance, some
new arrangement he had with Irina.
Yana, Lada, and Kira were already there doing extractions for Irina to
test. Just then, Val and the doctor came in to verify some results with Irina.
They both looked extremely tired and happy, even touching hands at one
point. Petrowski winked at me.
Irina was in such demand that we couldn’t talk, with everyone working
and commenting on their findings. I suggested we go to the office or kitchen
to talk, where it would be less crowded. But the office was occupied by
Volkov lecturing the guards about decorum. The kitchen was being used for
food preparation for the evening. We wound up at my quarters, at Irina’s
suggestion. She told Yuri to wait for her at the lab.
We shed our wet coats, and Irina spread out a few sheets of paper with
her results. We were both on our elbows side by side, and I realized this was
by design. She talked haltingly about her lab tests, about how they had found
a few more hormones of interest. She kept looking at me sideways to see if I
was interested.
Irina smelled very sweet today, more so than her usual smell I had
learned to love. As we lay there, I found it harder and harder to concentrate
on what she was saying. She kept moving over toward me each time she
changed a page. We were firmly pressing against each other at that point, and
her wonderful smell was having an effect on me.
She turned to me with her sparkling emerald eyes and asked if I wanted
to smell the latest hormone extract they had tested. I agreed, so she sat up and
pulled a small vial from the pocket in her shorts. In doing so, she let her
blouse fall open where she had unbuttoned the top two snaps, giving me a
silhouette of her lovely breasts. She opened the vial and put a few drops on
her finger, which she then stroked across the skin just above her breasts.
“You’ll have to come closer to smell it properly.”
Then she leaned into me so I smelled her and the fragrance at the same
time. The effect was amazing and the presentation irresistible.
***
I stood guard duty that night at 10:00 p.m., and I patrolled the north fence
position as usual. It was a quiet night, with no rain, and a mild wind. At
midnight the saber-toothed lions began to call back and forth as they had
been doing on many nights lately.
I listened and thought about what a strange existence we had here in
Zona. The valley was a paradise with lush vegetation, wild animals, and a
moderate climate. It was certainly different from what we had ever expected
when we came here. And most of the people were affected positively by the
exotic plants that made us all crazy about sex and passionate about other
things. And I was happy here, with a purpose and surrounded by a number of
friends. And I had become friends with a dire wolf. That one really surprised
me. Who would have thought it could happen?
Tamara came out of her quarters nearby. “Preveet! Hi! They are really
singing tonight, these lions. It’s almost beautiful.” She was wearing her long
sheer nightgown and was barefoot. “I thought you would come by tonight. Is
that still true, idiot? Or will you see Irina now?”
 “I will come to you when I finish here, Tami.”
“Da. That is fine.” She walked over, stood next to me, and took my hand
in hers. “I know you love me too.”
I tried to change the subject before she asked about Irina and me.
A lion roared from somewhere closer now, not menacing, but it came
from the road above camp. I estimated it was over a mile away. I placed my
arm around Tamara’s lean body and drew her against me.
“Do you think they will attack us one day? They have tested the fence
three times now, but they never bother us during daylight.” Tamara was
worried.
I thought about the lions. “They’re not like the wolves. The wolves
seemed very territorial and attacked us to drive us out of their home area. The
lions seem different, less territorial, or maybe they’re just more cunning.”
Then, because Tamara was always up on gossip, I asked, “What else has been
going on in camp? Is Regina still mad at Igor?”
“No. They’ve made up for now. But there will be trouble from him. He is
getting more aggressive every day. He has said he won’t move to a new camp
if we decide on that. He thinks that Volkov is too afraid to be in command.”
She frowned. “He doesn’t think Max should be in charge anymore.”
That was a surprise, but I had heard that Igor was grumbling about being
here in Zona. He and Mikhail were grousing that they should have more
responsibility and that Volkov was holding them back. They even
complained about the new mapping work Volkov had planned for the next
few days. They thought it was just busywork.
“You know, I asked Mikhail if I could go with on his mapping patrol
tomorrow. I want to learn more about the area south of here.” I lit up a small
cigar, offered one to Tamara, and lit both as we stood pleasantly together.
“It’s possible that Randall went that way. I’d like to look for him down
there.” We both savored our smokes and blew out the sweet aroma.
“You could do that, or we could make up a separate mission to look
specifically for clues of where he went. I could lead security and take Gina
and Andre for support. They are good shots under fire.”
“If that was our only purpose, we could cover more ground than with the
mapping party.” I stroked her shoulder. “Great idea.”
 We talked until the cigars were finished, and she ducked off to bed. I
watched the night sky without stars or a moon. I could tell the moon was out,
but the high thin clouds prevented me from actually seeing it. It was like we
were under a giant dome made of opaque glass. We could see changes in the
general lighting but not make out any individual sources.
I tried to enjoy the mild weather as I sauntered back and forth along the
wire. Nothing happened, and no one else came to talk. My shift dragged on
and the lions roared.
 CHAPTER 27
June 11

The day began normally. At 8:00 a.m. Igor led Regina and Andre on one of
the mapping patrols to the southwest. At 9:00 a.m. Mikhail led Nina and
Maxim on a mapping patrol to the southeast. Tamara was left in charge of the
camp, under Volkov’s command. She had Yuri, Victor, and me acting as
guards. Victor was recovering quickly but could not do patrols yet. Lada and
Dubinin had been trained as backup guards so they could fight if we were
overrun at night. The other scientists were heavily involved cataloging plants
and preparing extractions.
I watched the north and west fence lines, a scaling back of manpower
because we had not been attacked or harassed by animals in the last two
weeks. Victor patrolled the other sides of camp. We were supposed to be
relieved at noon by Yuri and Tamara.
Volkov had undertaken the design of a new camp and was planning how
we would effect a move from here to there. He calculated how much work
would be required and conducted an inventory of our stores and equipment.
He was concerned because we were using fuel at a higher rate than
originally planned. Even with the fuel we had recovered from last year’s
expedition, we would have only enough for our exit convoy and new road
construction, if we restricted fuel consumption. New rules on generator use
were implemented, and we reduced lighting at night. He decided not to run
the electric fences on clear days unless there was a threat. He would have the
generator ready to power up if needed.
In the afternoon, I stood on the northwest corner of camp where I could
see both fences and was looking at the edge of the forest nearby for a sign
that Shadow was present. I hadn’t seen him for two days now and wondered
if he was still hanging around the camp. It was one of those calm, sunny days
when daydreaming was in order. But that was not to last.
“Grant, I think you should hear this.” It was Tamara on the radio. “Irina
left camp to collect specimens, and she only has Yuri with her for security.”
“What?” I shouted. “That’s crazy. We’re supposed to have at least two
security people at all times.”
 “I know. No one asked me. They just went on their own. I wanted to let
you know right away. I’ve got to tell Volkov now.” She signed off.
I started to think about it. As I rolled it over in my mind, I realized that it
wasn’t safe for Irina to be alone with Yuri, let alone with only one guard. He
might try something if they were alone.
I radioed Victor. “Did they tell you they were leaving? Who knew about
this?”
“Hey, no one told me they were going until just now. Apparently Lada
found out and told Tami. She’s looking for you now.” Victor was upset.
“They left out the east gate about twenty minutes ago as far as I can tell.
People are supposed to let me know if they use that gate.”
“It sounds strange,” I said. “Irina knows better than that.”
“Apparently they were making a quick trip to the pond area to get more
of a certain plant species.”
Then Tamara came back on the radio. “Volkov says he will relieve me
and I will get Lada to replace you. She should be arriving soon. You and I
will go after them. Okay?”
“Roger that. Here comes Lada now.” I signed off and passed the watch to
her. Then I ran to the east gate to meet Tamara, and we set off for the pond at
a run.
The day had begun clear, but clouds had formed by midmorning, and the
air smelled heavy with moisture and fragrance as if it might rain soon. A low
fog was beginning to drift up the valley from lower elevation, wisps of mist
floating just above ground level.
It took us ten minutes to get to the pond, but nobody was there. We
scouted the area quickly but saw no sign of where Irina and Yuri would be.
Tamara had the presence of mind to radio Lada for help.
“Lada, what plants were they looking for? Were they at the pond or down
the trail?”
“Tami, they were after the orchidlike flower. It was up the stream along
the trail. They must have gone that way.” Lada sounded concerned. “Hurry,
we are getting fog here. It must be worse near the stream.”
The fog was coming up the valley quickly. It made our world seem to
grow smaller as it crept through the trees.
 We started up the trail, checking both sides for signs of Irina or Yuri.
Then we heard shouting ahead in the fog and the bone-chilling roar of a
sabertooth.
We ran ahead, Tamara taking the safety off her ASH gun, and I racked a
round into the chamber of my shotgun. We heard Yuri’s ASH boom three
times in quick succession. Then another three rounds. Irina screamed, then
more shooting. Then a roar and a sickening gasp.
We ran up the trail in the thickening fog, hearing a thrashing sound. We
came upon a giant saber-toothed lion, undoubtedly Sheba from her massive
size, that had her foot-long canine teeth spiked into Yuri’s upper body, lifting
him up as it shook him back and forth in midair, bones and tissue cracking
and tearing.
Tamara fired without hesitation, putting her first three-round burst into
the creature’s chest, but it showed no dramatic response. It threw Yuri’s body
at Tamara, knocking her down before she could get off another shot. She fell
to the ground, and her weapon flew out of her hands.
The big cat looked at her lying stunned on the trail, Yuri’s savaged body
on top of her. Sheba stepped forward as I fired round after round into her
shoulder and neck. It seemed that the slugs I was firing simply bounced off
bone or cartilage. She turned to me and swung her huge forepaw at me. I
ducked low, and she barely scratched me. As I dropped to the ground, Sheba
lurched forward to where Tamara was just getting her gun up for another
shot. She fired her last bullets into the cat’s chest, and Sheba reacted by
swinging her massive paw at Tamara, catching her with rapier claws along
her side and back, throwing her through the air.
I pulled around my second shotgun and fired all the rounds at the cat’s
head. She stopped her attack and twisted her head sideways like she was
shaking off rainwater. Then she turned my way and almost smiled as she
savored what would come next.
Behind me I heard a deep growl I had not heard before, a deep guttural
warning that scared the hell out of me. There was the flash of a huge white
beast hurtling through the air over my head directly for Sheba’s neck.
Shadow had come to my rescue!
The dire wolf collided with the cat in a loud crash that sent Sheba reeling
with Shadow’s jaws locked on her throat. They rolled wildly on the ground,
Shadow’s jaw gripped to the cat, Sheba trying to get her hind legs up to cut
open Shadow’s belly. The ground shook with the force of their thrashing
combat. Sheba broke away and backed up the trail a few paces while snarling
and roaring at Shadow, now on his feet and ready to plunge into the fight
again. Shadow barked furiously and Sheba turned. She reached down,
stabbed Yuri’s body again with her canine teeth, and lifted him in her mouth.
With Shadow on her heels, she fled up the trail toward the pass.
Tamara shouted, “Move! I’ll shoot the wolf at least.” She had gotten to
her knees and reloaded another magazine into her ASH gun.
“No! Don’t shoot the wolf! He saved us.” I waved for her to put her gun
down. “He just saved our lives.”
Just then, Shadow came trotting back along the trail. He stopped several
yards from us and whimpered. He sniffed the ground and woofed a little, as if
saying, “Come over here.” I stood and saw Irina’s body lying next to the trail
by his feet. He whined again and made a single wag of his tail, then turned
and ran up the trail after Sheba.
I ran over to Irina and lifted her. She was completely limp as I held her,
but I could see no wounds to explain her unconscious state. “Wake up, Irina.
Wake up!” I shook her and there was a glimmer of hope. Her eyes opened
slowly, releasing a hint of awareness.
“Oh my God!” she said suddenly. “It’s Sheba! She’s here.” She sat up as
she reached full wakening. “What happened? Why are you here? Where’s
Yuri?”
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“I must have fainted when I saw Sheba so close. Oh my God!” All color
left her face.
“We have to get going. Sheba took Yuri . . . He’s dead.”
She started shrieking then settled into a state of shock. I helped her to her
feet, and when I was sure she could stand, I hurried over to Tamara. She had
collapsed to a sitting position, blood oozing out of multiple razor-like wounds
on her shoulder, side, and back. She was still conscious but very pale, close
to passing out.
“Can you get up?” I asked as I put my arm around her good shoulder.
“Can you walk, Tami?”
“I think so. But this hurts like hell. What happened? It was so fast.”
I looked at her back and saw that the cuts were bone deep and bleeding
badly. She was losing a lot of blood. “Sheba swatted you with her claws.
Your backpack saved you from the worst, I think.” I carefully removed her
pack and tore open her shirt to expose the deep wounds. Using her first aid
kit, I bandaged the worst gouges to reduce the bleeding. It looked hopeless.
Then I put on her pack and radioed for help.
“Grant to Camp Zona One. Come in. Come in.”
Volkov was on the radio immediately. “Zona One here, Grant.”
“Max, we were attacked by Sheba and are coming back in. Tami has
several deep wounds and needs blood right away. Irina is okay but stunned.
Yuri is dead. More on that later.” I glanced between Irina and Tamara. “We
need someone to come out to meet us on the trail. We are starting back now,
but I don’t think Tami can walk all the way.”
“Okay, Grant. I’ll alert the doctor and send help. Out.”
I retrieved both ASH guns, Tamara’s and Yuri’s, slinging them onto my
shoulders. I kept one shotgun at the ready, now reloaded. We started walking
toward camp, me supporting Tamara, and Irina shuffling along behind.
Halfway back, Tamara nearly collapsed, and I had to carry her at my side
with her arm over my neck as she struggled to walk. It was slow going.
Then help arrived.
Kira and Yana ran forward with Volkov just behind, providing his
vigilant cover. The women grabbed Tamara’s arms, supporting her as they
ran to the east gate. I guided Irina along the trail and Volkov watched our six.
Once through the gate, we set Tamara down so the doctor could hook up a
saline drip to her arm. He looked at her wounds and made a whizzing sound.
“Oh Christ! It’s bad. Get her into the kitchen.” He and the women rushed her
to the hastily set up surgery.
I took Irina to the office, where she looked completely lost. Valeriya took
over her care and gave her water to drink and conversation to combat the
shock and fear.
***
I waited outside the kitchen for a while. It would be a couple of hours at least
before Petrowski would know if Tamara would survive.
Volkov came in to interrogate me and Irina, who had broken protocol by
going out of the camp like she did. He turned to Irina with a stern look on his
face.
Valeriya saw what he was about to do and stood up to block him. “Now
is not the time, Max. She needs to rest.”
I was left to explain what had happened. When it came to why Sheba had
retreated instead of eating all of us, I told him about a white dire wolf saving
our lives. I think he thought I had a concussion. He asked me to be sure
whether Yuri was dead or might possibly be alive and captured. I assured him
that after the shredding of his body that I had seen, there was no possibility
he was still alive. Volkov let me go to my quarters after offering me a stiff
glass of whiskey.
Lada found me on my bed, half-asleep and half in shock. She treated me
kindly and let me explain what had happened again.
“Is this the wolf you told me about? Shadow?” she queried. “So it is true?
He is real and not a vision you have seen in the night?”
“He saved us today,” I blurted out. “We would be cat food if he hadn’t
arrived just when he did. I can’t explain it.”
Lada helped me take off my clothes and wash Tamara’s blood off my
body. She noticed the scratch on my shoulder where Sheba had nicked me
with a claw, and she bandaged it. Then we got ready to go for dinner and
walked over to see the others. The patrols came in, and the camp was fully
staffed by then. I explained to everyone what had happened without
mentioning Shadow and realized I wasn’t making sense anymore as shock
took over my mind.
The doctor announced that Tamara would be okay, but the blood loss had
been remarkable. He said he was concerned about infection. Cat scratches
and bites carried the worst kind of anaerobic bacteria. He was giving her
every antibiotic he had, but that might not be enough.
Lada brought me back to my quarters to sleep. I found that she had
brought Irina there too, still in a state of shock. She put us both to bed, and
we held each other. Then Lada slipped in next to me on the other side to sleep
against my body.
 CHAPTER 28
Camp Zona 1
June 13

Two days had passed since the attack by Sheba. In that time, my small
scratch had begun to fester, and Petrowski was worried. He tore off the scab
and washed the cut with hydrogen peroxide before applying antibiotics and
bandaging it. It hurt like hell even then, but I felt well and alive, having
survived combat with a lion taller than I was.
Tamara was alive and slowly recovering from her wounds. The blood
loss had been a real problem at first, and the doctor had used most of his
supply of refrigerated blood. We all chipped in to donate blood for her and
replenish the doctor’s blood supply. But her wounds were deep and badly
infected.
“Grant,” Petrowski said, “I’m concerned for her. If the infection doesn’t
abate soon, I’m afraid that the sepsis could set in like it did for Diana. I’m
giving her a heavy dose to try to catch the infection early, but who knows
what these germs are that she is fighting?”
***
Tamara had recovered enough the second day after the attack to suffer
Volkov’s interrogation. She confirmed my story, even vouching that a great
white wolf had come to our rescue.
“Poor Yuri,” she said. “As much of a pain in the ass as he was, he did do
his duty and tried to save Irina from the lion. He might have been able to run
for his life if he had left her to Sheba.”
“Yuri was a good soldier,” said Volkov. “He would never leave his post
or shirk his duty. It was not in his character. I have known him for some time
and would expect him to stand his ground, even if it was futile.” He puffed
out his cheeks and shook his head. “But I don’t for the life of me understand
why he took Irina out there alone. He knew better.”
Irina had recovered from the shock and told me how grateful she was to
Yuri for trying to save her. “If I hadn’t insisted on going to get the extra
plants right then and there, he might have insisted on organizing a proper
team. But I was adamant, and he wanted to please me. My foolishness got
him killed.” She broke down in a crying fit, face flushed and tears flowing
freely. I comforted her as best I could.
Irina soon began her work again and buried herself in experiments and
plant extractions. She had all the biologists slaving away on her project and
drove them hard to get through a long list of plants that might have
interesting properties for use as perfumes. She and Petrowski made good
progress identifying which plants were causing us all to lose control of our
emotions.
That night there was a meeting after dinner. Volkov began the meeting
with a report that the search for Yuri’s body had been futile and no further
efforts would be made. That was not controversial, and he set a time for a
memorial service.
He also reported that the mapping effort had been completed and offered
everyone a chance to examine his new map of our surroundings. There was
controversy about completing the mapping missions, mainly from Igor and
Mikhail, who thought it was unnecessary. That tied into the next topic, which
was bound to create a commotion.
“And now I want to let the doctor have the floor to discuss what he has
found out about these emotional ups and downs that we have been having and
how he might restore our impulse control.” Volkov turned to Petrowski. “Dr.
Petrowski?”
“Okay, thank you, Max.” Petrowski stood by his chair and turned around
so most people could see him as he spoke. “As you all know, we have been
trying to find a medication that can counteract the extremes of our emotional
changes. We have tried many things but now have settled on a low dose of an
antianxiety medication called lorazepam. It is commonly used for short-term
problems such as alleviating panic attacks and fears of the unknown.” He
stopped and tried to read the faces of his colleagues.
“Is this what they give crazy people to keep them calm, Doc?” Andre
asked. “I don’t want to take something they give crazy people.”
“Oh no,” Petrowski went on. “This is just something for people who have
fears that seem out of proportion to the cause, or for restlessness that keeps
you awake at night. It isn’t as powerful as the drugs you’re thinking of. And
in any case, the dose is very low. It is perfectly safe, and four of us have been
using it already as a test.”
Igor was the first to object to the drug in his arrogant style. “I don’t think
I need such a drug. I like the way I feel now. I can control my emotions just
fine.”
“Well, you could just try it and see how it makes you feel. What do you
say?” Petrowski was afraid this might happen, afraid that people would
refuse to take a drug voluntarily, the same way that bipolar patients refused to
take their medication. The same things could apply here. And Igor was one of
the people who the doctor thought had showed the greatest loss of control.
“No, Doctor. I have decided.” Igor stood up. “I will not take this drug. I
am doing well as I am now.” A few other staff members nodded agreement
with him.
Petrowski asked for people to raise their hands if they were willing to try
the medication. Most of the scientists raised their hands except Yana. None
of the security staff did except Tamara and Regina. The guards responded
more or less the way I had thought they would.
The doctor shook his head and made notes about who had agreed. “Okay,
those who want to try the drug can see me tomorrow morning.” Then he
turned to Volkov and said, “That’s all I had to say, Max.” He sat down.
Volkov stood again, and he could see that some of the staff were talking
among themselves and glancing at the door. “We will move on now to the
main topic tonight.” He was very enthusiastic tonight. “My friends, we can
now move to the new camp that we have surveyed. It will be more secure for
us and will have several advantages, such as proximity to a stream, safer
location, and more room for our encampment.”
Igor interrupted, “I don’t think we should move to another camp,
Colonel. We are quite safe enough here, and we are already settled. It would
be a large expenditure of effort for little benefit.” He smirked as he looked at
the other guards and sat down.
“Well, let me finish what I have to say before you object, Igor. You may
change your mind. Now here I have drawn a map showing—”
“Yes, I am sure it is a pretty map,” Igor cut Volkov off, “but we do not
need to move. We have had no attacks on this camp, and so there is no need
to move. It doesn’t make sense.”
I could tell that Volkov was about to lose his temper. He was usually a
very even-tempered man, but he too was being affected by the biochemicals
in the air. His face reddened, and he turned to stare directly at Igor.
“Lieutenant, that is quite enough. We are going to move to the new site
whether you want to or not. Do you understand me?” He stamped his right
foot on the floor to emphasize his last statement.
Igor jumped from his chair, followed by Mikhail. Igor stated loudly, “I do
not agree with this move, and I will make a formal complaint about it.”
Apparently he thought he was still in the military, where there was a
mechanism to file such a complaint. There wasn’t a similar chain of
command here, just Volkov. Then Igor looked around and stalked out of the
room, followed by Mikhail and Yana.
There was a clamor in the room about what had just happened. Volkov
was beside himself with anger, face red, veins showing in his neck. I had
never seen him like this. I thought it must be the loss of impulse control.
Volkov shouted over the din, “This meeting is over. Prepare to begin
roadwork tomorrow at seven a.m. sharp.” Then he stormed out of the office,
the map tucked under his arm.
“What are we going to do?” I asked Irina and Lada, who were both sitting
with me. “I’ve never seen him get so angry. Have you?”
Irina said, “Yes, only once. But it was enough. He fired a man for less of
a confrontation than this before the expedition left Saint Petersburg.” She
looked very worried. “But what is Igor playing at? He cannot just refuse to
take an order like that. Even if this is not the army, he has a contract to
fulfill.”
“He has been acting like a little dictator lately,” Lada commented. “The
command of the away teams has built up his ego too much.” She shook her
head. “Listen, you two. This could be real trouble. I have heard Mikhail and
Igor talking. They think Volkov is not leading us well. They think he is too
conservative and old fashioned.”
Irina looked at Lada and took her hand, asking her directly, “What does
that mean? Will they refuse to follow orders or refuse to work on building the
road?”
 “I don’t know what they will do. But I did not expect this display of
insubordination.” Lada gripped Irina’s hand tightly and lowered her voice.
“We must be careful who we talk to. I will see what I can learn from Maxim
and Regina. They may know more about why Igor is acting like this.” She
looked around the room to be sure no one was listening. “They may talk to
me about such matters. But you shouldn’t talk to any of the other guards
about this. They may not want to talk to us scientists. Some of them think we
are asses and we look down on them. So be careful.”
Everyone in the meeting slowly broke up into small groups. I saw Nina
storm out of the office with Victor and Andre. They stopped outside the door
to talk and I kept an eye on them to see what they would do. They looked
angry and stared at me when they saw me watching them. Victor turned his
back on me.
Irina and I walked next door to the kitchen, where Tamara lay awkwardly
on a cot so she could protect her wounded side and back. She was still awake,
talking to Regina, who held her hand.
“Hand me that water glass, please. I’m dying of thirst. I hurt so bad.” She
winced. “Shit, this hurts . . . This damn cat scratch.”
I leaned in to kiss Tamara, and she smiled at me. “Thank you. I needed
that.” Then, to my surprise, Irina kissed her on the lips.
“Okay,” Tamara said, “now I am truly loved.” She laughed. “Thank you
both for coming to see me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “The doctor says I have
a bad infection. And I know it for myself. I am afraid to get the sepsis like
Diana had.” Tears fell from her eyes across her tanned face. She tried to
smile, and Regina took a turn to kiss her, wiping the tears from her face.
Regina looked at me, then at Irina, before turning back to Tamara. “We
all love you, Tami, you idiot.”
This brought a smile to Tamara’s face. “But you can’t call me idiot. I call
him idiot. We will get confused.” We all laughed. Then Tamara’s face turned
serious. “Gina has told me about the meeting. It sounds like there will be
trouble.”
“We wondered what you two think about it. What will happen?” I asked.
“All I can say is we should be careful to protect each other and . . .”
Tamara glanced at each of us in turn to be sure we understood. “We must all
sleep with guns under our pillows.”
***
For some reason, my dream about the deck of cards returned that night while
I slept sandwiched between Irina and Lada at Lada’s hangout in the
maintenance shed. The dream progressed as it had before, with the deck of
cards being riffled in front of my eyes. The king of hearts, queen of hearts,
and jack of spades with his drooping mustache. I saw the ten of clubs, this
time with the Roman numeral X.
Then the cards riffled past me again, stopping on the jack of clubs with
the neatly trimmed mustache. The jack looked at me then reached out of his
card to take the ten of clubs in his hand so that it shrank to a smaller size. As
he held the X, the card transformed into a red book with the letter X
emblazoned on the book cover. Then the jack smiled and handed it to me. It
was Randall’s Journal X. I was shocked and looked at the journal then the
jack’s face. Then the card began to fade. I recognized the face of Godunov
with a trickle of blood across his brow. His face turned gray as he faded away
completely.
I woke up with a start.
It was the darkest part of the night with a strong wind blowing and heavy
rain pummeling the maintenance shed. I heard the hissing of the electric
fence as raindrops struck the insulators on the posts. The air was sweet and
wet as I pulled myself up on one elbow to look around. There was a flash of
lightning followed shortly by a rumble of thunder. This was the first lightning
we had seen in Zona. There was a lightning strike nearby and an abrupt
boom.
Lada and Irina both awoke to look around, and I assured them it was
thunder. Lada got up for a drink of water then stood silhouetted by the door
of the shed, looking out through a small opening she had made. Wind and
rain swept the camp.
The dream came back to haunt me as the storm continued outside. Now
the cards riffled past at an alarming rate, and I could see only a blur. After
going by several times, the speed of the shuffle slowed, and I saw the jack of
spades with the drooping mustache go by slowly, his face sneering at me. He
came back and stopped to look at me with derision before looking away to
his right. I followed his gaze directly to the queen of hearts. As he smiled, he
stood up from the card so I could see his uniform and black boots. He moved
next to the queen and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him
uncertainly at first, then glared at him and said no. She took his hand off her
shoulder, letting her red hair cascade down it in the process. The jack looked
back at me, then looked up with concern and disappeared in a flash of light.
 CHAPTER 29
June 15

Volkov began road building the next day, making the point that he was in
charge. As it turned out, the huge thunderstorm had driven the need for a
better camp location home to many people. The storm turned out to be a real
gully washer, with sheets of rain forming so much runoff from the road and
hillside that floodwaters had rushed through camp during the night. Nothing
was damaged, but a good deal of mud plagued us for the next few days. We
had apparently sited our camp in an area where there was always going to be
runoff from large storms.
This did not make any difference to Igor and Mikhail, who simply said
we could build a diversion dam to keep water from entering camp. But Igor
was overridden, and work on the road began that day.
The main obstacle to the road was the forest. Volkov oversaw two teams
who used chain saws to fell trees in the path of the road. He envisioned a road
twelve feet wide so our tracked vehicles could creep through pulling sledges.
Tree stumps were cut low to the ground so we could drive over them, and
only a few rocks needed to be removed to create a relatively passable
roadway. Since the forest was not especially dense in this area, Volkov
calculated we should be able to make an average of 150 to 200 yards of
progress each day. Herculean efforts made this goal a reality the first two
days. The rest of the scientists carried on with their studies.
It took extra time during the first two days to develop a system that
worked efficiently for road building. Once that was achieved, everyone
settled into a routine of eight to ten hours of work per day. Igor, Mikhail, and
Maxim wielded the chain saws, while Nina, Andre, and Regina trimmed off
the smaller branches with axes and used the T2 tractor to drag logs and slash
out of the way. Victor and I stood guard along the road.
During those days, Dubinin started a side project in which he
experimented with some of the fruits and vegetables that seemed to grow in
abundance in the forest and meadow. Although he was not the only person
collecting plants to use for food, he was the scientist who tabulated the results
and worked a few of the plants into our diet at breakfast or dinner. Everyone
appreciated the change from our dry stores of prepackaged meals and canned
goods.
The testing of new foods had begun when Kira discovered wild onions
our second day in Zona. Then Irina found an equivalent of wild rice in one of
the marshy areas. Dubinin was fascinated by the variety of berries in the
forest and meadow near our camp, including berries much like blueberry,
strawberry, and lingonberry. He found fruits on trees similar to apples,
peaches, and wild calla. He noted evidence of wild pig-like creatures rooting
up the dirt and discovered tubers underground that tasted similar to sweet
potato.
Dubinin made a presentation of his results one night before dinner. “I am
convinced that if we needed to, we could live off the land here, using wild
fruits, berries, rice, and meats from pigs, deer, and some rodents.” He looked
around at his captive audience. “And tonight we will have a dinner that is
made exclusively from Zona foods.”
***
My work to find Randall continued whenever I could carry out an excursion
downstream. I was convinced he must have followed the East Creek trail
farther down the valley, probably past the meadow where we were presently
preparing Camp 2. The problem I faced was that most of the guard manpower
was occupied every day by road construction.
I came up with a compromise with Volkov. If I stayed close to the trail
along East Creek, I could utilize Lada and Dubinin as my off-site guards
since they both had received rifle training. Lada welcomed the chance to get
out of the lab for an afternoon, and Dubinin hoped to find new foods in the
wild. With these limitations, we set off on the afternoon of June 15 to see if
there was any evidence we had overlooked. I thought that after the big
rainstorm we might uncover fresh clues. We had a bright day for our efforts.
We worked our way south from the pond area as quickly as possible to
avoid contact with sabertooths. We began to search in earnest below the
confluence of East Creek and Beaver Creek, thrashing through the vegetation
on either side of the trail while keeping alert for the presence of animals.
I realized I had not been looking for signs of travel my uncle might have
made when he first came along this trail. He might have made marks on the
trees, blazes as he called them. They could be made by simply striking a tree
with a hatchet or knife every once in a while to remove a few inches of bark
so he could retrace his steps if he needed to. The other marker he had taught
me was to bend or break small branches at eye level that he could then
recognize as his own mark. Even after a full year, some of these marks might
still be visible. But life in Zona was so robust, even a deep gash in a tree
trunk might heal itself in a year.
I scoured the trees next to the trail. I didn’t see anything at first but soon
began to see scars on tree trunks that could have been Randall’s blazes. There
were several in one section of the trail but none in others. Finally they
disappeared altogether, and we never saw them again.
Soon after we started walking, I noted that Shadow was following our
trace on a parallel course nearly a hundred yards to our east. Dubinin didn’t
notice him, being preoccupied with his quest for fruit and legumes. But Lada
saw him nearly as soon as I did and signaled to me that he was off our left
side. She had a broad grin on her face.
I called Dubinin over to talk for a moment while Lada stayed on guard.
“Vladimir, I wanted to show you something, but you must promise not to
react when I tell you what it is.”
He nodded and looked around as if I were going to surprise him with a
gift.
“Remember the large wolf I told you guys about that saved my life and
Tami’s life? Well, he’s nearby. So don’t point your gun at him. Okay?”
His eyes became a little wild, and I couldn’t blame him for having some
fear after what the wolves had done to us in the past. He had been, after all,
injured in one of the first wolf attacks in the marshlands.
“Where? Where is he?” he asked with a gasp.
I pointed to our east, and Shadow remained still as I did so. “Over there. I
call him Shadow.”
Dubinin scanned the forest for a full minute before he saw the partially
hidden animal. When he finally saw him, he jumped, and I had to reach over
to keep him from raising his shotgun. “Just look at him. He’s not going to do
anything.”
 Then Dubinin relaxed and the scientist in him took over. He was
interested in the wolf and asked a number of questions about him. I asked
him to go back on point, and Lada came over to talk to me.
“He is a beautiful animal,” she whispered. “He is really large too. How
tall is he when he is next to you?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s see if he will come and stand close to us.” Then I
called out to him, using his new name of Shadow. He seemed to understand
and came to within twenty yards of us before stopping. I just stood there and
talked to him, telling him that these were my friends and they were not going
to hurt him. Shadow seemed to understand what I was saying, came to within
two arm lengths of us, and smelled us, looking back and forth between Lada
and me, sniffing the whole time. He sat to watch us, occasionally reacting to
a sound in the forest.
“Can I get closer?” asked Lada, who was a wolf aficionado. “I won’t try
to pet him or anything.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been closer than this before. Try to talk to him
and see if he seems to understand you.”
Shadow watched her intently as she told him what a handsome creature
he was and how she was glad to meet him. He listened to her with his head
cocked then looked at me. Then I understood what he was thinking. I reached
over, put an arm around Lada, and pulled her close to me to show she was my
friend. He stood, let out a series of little woofs and whines, and wagged his
tail once. I think that meant he understood we were friends.
Shadow came forward slowly to within arm’s length and reached his nose
out to smell both Lada and me carefully. Then he did what most dogs do at
some point: he put his nose between my legs, then her legs, and gave a quiet
woof. He was determining our sexes and our relationship, I think.
Then without any warning he stepped right up to me and extended his
head over my shoulder to smell the wound left by Sheba. I turned so he could
reach it better, and he snuffled it thoroughly, all the while whining. Then he
stepped back and jumped up a little like he was excited. He turned down the
trail as if he wanted to walk that way.
“What is it, Shadow?”
He stepped forward on the trail then looked back at Lada and me. Then
he looked at Dubinin farther down the trail and stopped to whine again.
“Hey, Vladimir. Can you step off to the side of the trail about ten yards
so Shadow can pass?”
Dubinin complied, and Shadow sprang forward about twenty yards
before turning around to be sure we were following. He led us down the trail
about a half mile, all of us walking behind him, to where a small side stream,
probably a rivulet on normal days, crossed the trail. He turned and followed
the water upstream about two hundred yards to a hollow embankment where
water seeped from the earth. The bank was covered by strange plants that
looked like green yucca about three feet high. Shadow climbed up to one and
bit into the base of the plant, making two puncture marks in its flesh. A white
liquid that reminded me of milkweed sap seeped out onto the surface.
Shadow licked the liquid, turning his tongue white. Then he climbed down
from the bank, turned to me, and came close to sniff my shoulder again,
tugging the cloth of my shirt in his teeth. I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it
off my shoulder to expose the wound. Then Shadow licked my wound with
the white sap on his tongue.
First of all, I was shocked to see how large his tongue was, about seven
inches wide. He licked my wound a few times, and by the time he finished, I
realized the scratch didn’t hurt anymore.
“Wow! I can’t believe it.” The effect was like the first time I had tried
arnica gel on a sore knee: the relief was almost instantaneous. “Hey, guys.
This is some sort of medicinal plant. It seems to help my wound.”
I stepped up to the plant and stuck my finger where the white sap came
out to get a sample of the stuff. I applied it directly on my wound. Again, it
felt a little better.
“Let’s take a sample back with us for Petrowski to experiment with. Even
if it only helps with pain, that will be a big plus for Tami.”
Dubinin pulled out a pocket knife and cut off a segment of one leaf to
take back with us. He placed it in a sample bag and commented, “It looks
hard like a yucca, but it’s really soft like aloe. Very interesting.”
We continued our excursion along the creek, with Shadow trotting along
on point. We walked for another mile or so then returned to the second
meadow, joining the southeast trail back toward camp and meeting the
construction crew as they toiled on the new roadway.
Shadow vanished into the forest and was probably following us at a
distance. I wasn’t sure if Igor and the others would give him a warm welcome
in any case. I told Lada and Dubinin to share their knowledge of Shadow
with only the animal lovers on the expedition.
At camp we took the sample of plant tissue straight to Petrowski. I
noticed that the whole side of the sample where it had been cut wept white
sap. I walked over to Tamara, who was squirming with pain. I looked at her
back and was disgusted at what I saw. In fact, when I pulled the cloth
covering her wound, I was shocked at the oozing pus and let out a “Holy
shit!”
“Oh my God. Is it that bad?” She tried to turn and see it for herself.
“Here, I’m going to rub something on your wound to see if it helps with
the pain. Okay?”
The doctor stopped me. “Wait. Let’s look at your scratch first to see if it’s
better or if you are just introducing new germs into the wound.” He rolled
back my shirt to get a better view of my cut.
“Wow! It’s incredible,” the doctor said. “You said it doesn’t hurt
anymore? And the redness is gone too. I can’t believe it is the same wound I
looked at this morning.”
I rubbed a little of the sap on the smallest of Tamara’s wounds. “Does
that feel better?”
“Yes, it feels a little cool, but the skin feels better already,” she said.
I put more of the sap on another cut and waited while Lada and Petrowski
squeezed more from the sample. I covered all her wounds with the sap, and
she sighed as the pain slipped away.
“What is this stuff? It feels so much better than before. And so quickly.”
I explained, “We don’t know what it is, but Shadow took us to the plant
when he found out I had an infected wound. It was really amazing.”
“Grant has a connection with this beast, Shadow. They can understand
each other.” Lada put her hand on my shoulder. “It was something to watch.”
She grinned at me admiringly. “It was like you and he could read each other’s
mind.”
I withdrew to bed that night and felt happy Tamara was feeling better.
We all hoped the plant sap would help fight the infection in her wounds.
Tamara’s friends celebrated with a small quantity of vodka that magically
appeared. No one asked where it came from.
 CHAPTER 30
June 25

“ I tell you, Grant, I feel like a younger man.” Petrowski was elated at the
results from a plant extract he and Irina had been working on for several
days. “I simply place a small volume of it under my tongue and let it seep
into the blood. Irina has been taking it as a hot tea and tasting it in her mouth
a long time before swallowing. It has the same effect.”
“But how do you know that the human growth hormone is what’s making
you feel so good? Maybe there is something else in the plant giving you the
effects.” I tried to reason with him. I was worried he was doing risky testing
on the extracts that Irina and the others were preparing. “You should be very
careful in case there are side effects.”
“But I told you, my blood pressure is down, I’ve lost weight, I feel ten
years younger, my body is responding exactly as it would if I were taking
injections of HGH directly. Even my eyesight has improved. It’s
remarkable.”
“I don’t understand how this can be true,” I said. “Plants can’t generate
human hormones. Some might be similar, but not the same.”
Irina came into the kitchen, shuffled past Petrowski and Valeriya as they
sat at the lunch table. “Well, it is rare,” she said. “But pharmaceutical
companies have found a nearly identical plant product that mimics the human
hormone estrogen. They call it bioidentical because the body can’t tell the
difference from what it produces itself.”
“So you’re saying that a plant here produces a compound that is so
similar to human growth hormone that the body can’t tell the difference? I
don’t believe it.” I knew that my two friends were enthralled by this
discovery, but I didn’t want to encourage them in their uncontrolled
experiments. If a side effect surfaced, our facilities to deal with it were
limited.
The doctor seemed to understand my intellectual argument, but he was
too personally involved to step back from the testing. “We want to test this
for another two weeks, and then we can stop.” He looked over the top of his
bunk at me. “Don’t worry so much, Grant. We’re not going to tell everybody
about this discovery, and in fact, I want you and Lada to keep it a secret.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because,” Valeriya piped in quietly, “if any of these guards knew that
we could make synthetic HGH and what it was worth, they would steal the
samples and run to the outside world to sell it as quickly as they could go. It
would be worth millions.”
The doctor made his case. “We are all exposed to it to a certain extent
every day here. The hormones in the air contain the HGH-like compound and
other hormones as well. Why do you think you are so horny all the time?
Only a few of us seem to be reacting negatively to them.”
“Can you give it to Tami? Would it help her heal faster?”
The doctor looked at Valeriya and, receiving no clear response, said,
“The aloe-like sap seems to have cured her infection, and there is no sign of
sepsis—an absolute miracle.”
Then Valeriya said what Petrowski was reluctant to say: “We might as
well tell you. She has started to take the HGH as a supplement already, and it
seems to be helping her. Next time you see her, ask to see the wound. It has
been healing rapidly.”
***
Meanwhile, the road construction was going along grudgingly well. The crew
had moved a little over halfway to Camp 2 in the ten days they had been
working. Igor had whipped his people into shape, and they were not happy
about the pace of operations. I suppose that Igor, never inspired by the
project, now just wanted to finish the road and move on to other more
interesting tasks. A significant accomplishment for a small group of pioneers.
Mikhail and Igor both displayed more anger and resistance to other
people’s ideas during this period, maybe because of the stress related to the
roadwork. I heard Igor arguing loudly with Nina, who was his chief sex
partner. I didn’t really know much about it because I didn’t smoke with Igor
and the guards in the evening like I used to. Whenever I joined them, they
moved on to another location, probably because I was a scientist, not one of
the guards. Scientists were now personae non gratae as far as Igor was
concerned.
***
I got over to see Tamara later in the day, and she looked fabulous. Her
wounds were healing nicely, even though long dark scabs stood out
prominently on her tanned skin, four parallel tracks about three inches apart
across her flesh. The doctor left the wounds open with only a thin gauze layer
to keep the wounds clean. She applied the white sap on the wounds four
times a day.
“I already talked to Irina and Lada about moving in with you for the
night.” She looked at me cautiously as she spoke, eyebrows raised. “They
agreed but weren’t sure how we can work it out.” She took my hand. “But I
asked to spend the night alone with you tonight at my place. I hope that’s all
right.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said. She let me rub the sap on her
wounds. “Does this hurt? How much pain are you in now?”
“My skin is sensitive to the touch, but I can’t say that it hurts very much
like this.” As I finished, she turned to face me. “I can lie in bed, but I have to
keep my weight off the wound, so I can’t lie on my back or this side.” She
said, “Help me move now. The sooner we move me back into my place, the
sooner we can make up for lost time.” She gave me a devilish grin. “I’m
extremely horny after so many days in the hospital.”
***
Dinner was delayed that night because the road crews came in late, after 6:00
p.m. They had run into two very large trees that took much more effort to
remove than any they had cut down to date. They came in hungry, exhausted,
and in a bad mood. We were all seated around the small tables in the office,
our makeshift dining area.
Dubinin, who acted as chef tonight, made a prepackaged beef stroganoff
dinner with a side dish he had created from the sweet tubers he had dug up
today. I thought the potato-like dish was tasty, but it did not suit a few
people, especially Igor.
“What is this shit on the side here, Vladimir?” He cut directly into
Dubinin’s pride. “It tastes like something I would scrape off my boot. I will
not eat it.”
“Sorry you don’t like it, Igor. I have to try these side dishes when I can,”
Dubinin said.
“After the work we do all day, I would expect something better. It seems
you scientists just don’t have any respect for us workers.” He pulled out a
bottle of vodka and passed it around to his compatriots, Mikhail, Nina,
Andre, Maxim, and Yana, who had taken to eating with the guards. Regina
and Victor were currently on guard duty and would eat after their shift.
When Volkov saw the bottle, he immediately stood up. “Where did you
get that bottle, Igor? Is it from the armory?”
“And what if it is, Max?” Igor gave Volkov a glassy stare. “We have
worked hard all day and need a reward for our trouble.” He made a gesture of
dismissal in Volkov’s direction and continued to pour the clear liquid into his
friends’ glasses.
“You have taken that drink without my permission, Igor.” Volkov moved
from his chair. “I would have allowed a short toast to celebrate your progress
today, but the vodka is not yours to distribute.” He walked over to Igor’s
table.
Igor watched him approach and passed the bottle around so that Volkov
could not get his hands on it, like a schoolboy playing keep-away. The guards
laughed and filled their glasses until the bottle was empty. Then Andre
handed the empty bottle to Volkov, whose face was beet red. He took the
bottle and strode back to his seat, his dignity ruffled.
The guards were having a good time of it, drinking and carrying on
loudly and irreverently. Then I noticed that Igor uncapped another bottle of
vodka and was in the process of pouring another round at his table. Andre
passed it to our table so we could join in the revelry. We gladly accepted and
drank a toast to the hardworking road builders.
Volkov noticed the second round of drinks. “Goddamn it, Igor! You are
defying me.” He got up and stalked over to Igor again. “You cannot do this
sort of thing. It is against my orders to use the group alcohol allotment
without my permission. If you have any other bottles with you, give them to
me right now.”
Igor looked at Volkov like a spoiled boy trying to find a way to ignore his
demands. He stood up and towered over Volkov, clenching his hands into
fists. It looked like there would be major trouble. Fortunately, Maxim leaped
from the table and stepped in front of Igor before he could strike Volkov. I
jumped up too because I was afraid of what Volkov would do if he was
struck. He carried a handgun in the holster on his belt.
When I got up, the people around me took the opportunity to leave the
building, carrying their dinner with them. The rest of the guards stood at that
point, and Nina picked up a box that looked like it might hold a few bottles of
liquor. I didn’t say anything, not wanting to get Volkov into World War III
mode. She saw me and winked while she spirited the box out of the building.
Maxim pulled Igor over to talk to him and calm him down. I did the same
with Volkov, mostly so he wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the room
disregarded and fuming. I told him the others had been drinking before dinner
and that he probably couldn’t reason with them under the current conditions.
I suggested he let things go for the night and deal with them in the morning
when everyone would have clearer heads. He said he wanted to get any liquor
back from the guards tonight. I couldn’t get him to budge on that idea.
Igor came back to stand in front of Volkov and declared, “Max, you are a
good man and have been a good leader to bring us so far into Zona. But now
I think, and others agree, that you are no longer the best leader for our
organization. It has been agreed on by the guards that I should be the new
leader. I plan to take charge of this place right now.”
Volkov was caught off guard. He stared at Igor with disbelief at this level
of insubordination. “I do not accept your claim as leader, Igor. I have been
appointed commander of this private army by the principals of our
expedition. I cannot and will not turn over my authority to you or your
cohorts. Now give me that liquor and stand down.”
The two men stood toe to toe for nearly a minute waiting for one of them
to back down. I was not sure this would work out in Volkov’s favor, so I
intervened. This whole business of Igor pushing for more control bothered
me. “Why don’t we have a vote to see if others feel the same way about
Volkov’s performance as leader of our expedition? That would be a
democratic way to resolve this issue. What do you two think? Would you
abide by a vote?”
 I realized that Volkov would feel I was betraying him, but I had already
worked out how I thought the voting would come down. At least I hoped it
would keep Volkov in charge.
They both looked at me like I was interfering in their affairs, but if it
stopped the Mexican standoff, it was worth taking some heat. Igor spoke first.
“You stay out of this, Grant. This is between Volkov and me.”
“Yes, but it affects all of us. So shouldn’t we all have a say in it?” I tried
to sound neutral on the subject, an advocate of fair play. Fortunately, Dubinin
and Petrowski had stayed in the office.
Petrowski said in a hopeful tone, “Yes, a vote would be fair. Let’s have a
vote.”
Dubinin seconded the idea, and soon a few others who had been listening
from the doorway added their support for a show of hands. Volkov said it
should be a secret ballot so no one could be intimidated about how they
voted. Igor looked angry but agreed that a vote was reasonable.
So a vote was organized right then and there. Dubinin called for everyone
to prepare to vote, and he assigned Lada as vote maker. She set about cutting
up sheets of paper so that each piece showed a V and an I. We were to circle
the one we voted for.
Neither Volkov nor Igor looked happy with the concept of democracy.
They would rather have duked it out. But if they did, Volkov would be
defeated. The results of an election might lead to even more bad blood
between the two men, but I didn’t see how that could be avoided.
When everything was ready, people filed into the office, where they each
received a ballot and a pencil. Each person sat for a minute to circle their
choice then deposited their folded ballot in a cardboard box. I acted for
Volkov and Mikhail acted for Igor as the ballots were counted. Nina wrote
down each vote and announced the final count. “Final numbers are Igor,
seven, and Volkov, ten. Volkov wins by three.”
When the results were read, Igor and his crew marched out of the office
to the first of the big tents, where he held a rally and extra vodka made an
appearance. He never admitted he lost. He and his supporters celebrated late
into the night, which would no doubt lead to less roadwork the next day.
I walked to Volkov’s quarters afterward and asked him what he thought
of these antics by Igor. He offered me a glass of Scotch from his private stock
and answered, “These sorts of things happen during the course of any
command when discipline fails or new and unusual conditions are
encountered. I don’t blame Igor for his feelings. Things are not going as he
wishes, but I cannot look the other way when he counters my authority.”
“The election was a little closer than I thought it would be. I suggested it
because I knew you would win.”
“Yes, I understand. It was a good idea, and you brought it up just in time
to save further escalation of the argument.” He sipped his whiskey with
appreciation. “I too was surprised that it was close at all. Perhaps I’m not as
popular with the troops as I assumed.”
“I think that Kira and Yana have been wooed by Igor and Mikhail lately.”
I finished my drink and set the glass down. “And I think Dubinin is not in
favor of the move to a new camp, mostly because it is inconvenient. Maybe
Igor shouldn’t have made sport of his yam dish tonight. It probably cost him
a vote.” I laughed at that idea, and Volkov joined in as well.
“The next few days will be tense between Igor and me. I have to decide
how hard to push discipline in a situation like this. Normally I would relieve
him of his duties and put him in the brig for such a break. But I have no place
to lock him up, and we are shorthanded as we are. So I will write up a
reprimand and let it go at that for now. I just hope he realizes now that
everyone does not agree with him. Otherwise we are in for a lot of trouble.”
 CHAPTER 31
Camp Zona 2
July 7

Twelve days after the election of Volkov as leader, the road construction was
complete and a site prepared for our new home at Camp Zona 2. We spent
the morning sorting out everything that should be taken on the first convoy to
the new camp and getting it onto the several sledges that would be dragged
over the rough road. Scientists did most of the packing and organizing
because the guards had performed the roadwork.
Volkov decided that we would relocate over a two-day period. The first
day we would move everything that could be left unprotected outside the
electric fence at the new site. The second day we would transport most of the
remaining gear and the electric fence, generator, klieg lights, and sensor
array. We would return to sleep at Camp 1 until the end of the second day.
When Camp 2 was enclosed by the fence, we would sleep there.
I helped Maxim and Tamara, now fully recovered, temporarily remove
the wire from the electric fence so we could drive the tractor and sledges out
of the compound. We were taking T1, driven by Nina, to pull S1; our office
unit; and T5, piloted by Mikhail, pulling the kitchen unit with our medical
and food supplies. Those vehicles were lined up on the road as Tamara drove
T6, containing her and Regina’s quarters and hauling the food and supply
sledge, forward to be next in line. Maxim drove T3, hauling S7, the original
fuel sledge that had been converted into Irina’s laboratory building, which
now conveyed half of the fuel that remained in camp. Finally, T4 pulled the
repairs and maintenance sledge, Lada’s quarters, with its extra fencing
supplies and repair materials.
That left the armory, the toilet unit, and the two sledges we had brought
back from the pass to be transported the second day of the move. Our plan
called for us to eat prepared foods until we could all get to the new camp and
utilize the kitchen again. Andre and Victor remained at Camp 1 as security.
The rest of us traveled with the convoy.
At 9:00 a.m. we began the slow procession to Camp 2 only three miles
away. It was slow going because of the uneven terrain and the tree stumps.
Igor and Volkov drove the two snowmobiles alongside to keep everyone
coordinated. At one point sledge S4 got hung up on a stump, and we
disconnected another tractor to pull the sledge loose. Then the sledge glided
over the stump easily. We stopped for lunch at noon to eat and take a break
from the nerve-wracking process.
We continued the trek slowly and reached the new camp at 4:00 p.m.,
unhooking the sledges and parking three tractors there for the night. For the
return, Igor and Nina rode one snowmobile, and they left immediately.
Mikhail took Yana on his snowmobile. The rest of us piled into the two
tractors T2 and T4 for a crowded and bumpy ride.
By 7:00 p.m. we were all exhausted from being thrown around in the
tractors on the bumpy road, but we were very close to camp. Mikhail sped
ahead on his snowmobile to beat us to the camp. On the tail of the snow
machine, I could see Yana look back at our lumbering vehicles, a worried
look on her face. Mikhail sped to the west gate of the camp and squeezed the
snowmobile through to safety.
I was riding in T4, which Dubinin had demanded to drive back. No one
argued because we were all exhausted after such a long day. Volkov, Irina,
and Tamara were also on board. At the last minute, when we were on the
flatter meadow surface, Dubinin throttled up the tractor to take the lead as we
converged on the west gate. As soon as we were within twenty yards, he shut
the engine down, took the key out of the ignition, and jumped out of the
vehicle. He clambered down off the tracks and ran to the west gate of the
fence. I saw that Igor was there, seeming to expect him, cutting the current to
the gate so he could enter, then powering the gate up again once Dubinin was
inside. Igor wore a Makarov pistol on his belt and carried one of the AK-74
rifles with him.
The rest of us climbed down from the tractors, gathering the things we
would need for the night, and stretched our muscles. We followed Volkov
over to the west gate where Igor waited inside the fence.
“Okay, Igor,” Volkov called out. “You can open the gate and let us in.
We’re tired as hell.”
Igor didn’t make a move to cut the current on the gate. “You won’t be
coming inside the fence again, Colonel. I am in charge of this encampment
now. You may not enter.”
“Now see here, Igor.” Volkov turned red in the face as he said sternly,
“That is not very funny. Open this gate immediately, or I’ll have you
arrested.”
Igor turned around and looked at the people who were standing back
from the fence and near the remaining sledges. He waved for them to come
forward. In response, Mikhail, Nina, and Victor stepped forward a few paces
so we could see that they too were armed with AKs. As we watched, they
spread out and swung their weapons up to a near-level position as if they
were in a skirmish line.
At first I didn’t believe they really meant to keep us out of the compound.
But none of them was smiling. They were dead serious about this action of
theirs.
This mutiny!
“Goddamn you, Igor. Stop this at once. And you lot back there . . . I see
who you are. You will all be docked pay for this outrage. Now lower your
weapons and open this gate!” Volkov shouted. Nina at least seemed uncertain
what to do. Volkov was in a rage and shook his fist at Igor, whose mouth
now formed a sneer.
Volkov reached under the tail of his jacket to pull out his 9mm Makarov
handgun. Just as he raised it, Igor lifted his own Makarov pistol and shot
Volkov in the shoulder, a deafening crack in the night.
Oh my God! I thought. Igor has gone mad!
Tamara was standing next to Volkov and managed to catch him as he
collapsed. His sidearm fell on the ground next to him. He grunted then swore
a blue oath at Igor before passing out. The doctor ran to Volkov’s side and
tried to stop the bleeding. He sent Irina to the tractor to retrieve the first aid
kit.
Igor seemed quite happy with himself, smiling and waving his pistol
around. I yelled, “Open this gate right now so we can get him inside. He’s
bleeding to death, you fool.”
“No one is coming inside this fence. Do you understand? No one,” Igor
shouted and waved the pistol at me. “Take the old man and go away. Or I
will shoot you next, Grant.”
I looked at the other mutineers inside the wire. They looked shocked and
disturbed by what had just happened. But no one backed down.
Then Yana ran out from beside the toilet unit. “Oh my God! You shot
him. You shot the colonel.” She ran up to the gate next to Igor and tried to
take his arm. “We have to help him. You can’t just let him die.”
“Shut up and get back by the sledges . . . Where is your rifle? Get your
weapon and stand your position.” He turned on her and slapped her face.
“Get back to your place now.” Yana scurried away to stand at the side of the
toilet sledge.
It was clear Igor would take no pity on Volkov, so the doctor and I
gathered him up with help from Tamara, who was clever enough to scoop up
Volkov’s fallen sidearm. We carried him back to the tractor, where we laid
him on the tracks, which served as a table for Petrowski to work on the
injury. I urged everyone to back away from the fence and stand behind the
cover of the two tractors.
Volkov was badly wounded, and Petrowski worked on him frantically to
save his life. Tamara helped with gauze bandages from our first aid kit and
wiped away blood so the doctor could see what he was doing. Finally they
stopped the bleeding, and Volkov’s breathing seemed to slow somewhat. The
doctor then sat on the tracks for a breather and lamented that all his supplies
were now packed at Camp 2.
“How bad is it?” I asked Tamara.
“He has lost a lot of blood. The bullet passed right through him, though,
so in some ways that is good. We do not have to dig around for a bullet. But
he needs blood right now.” She made a pleading face, but there was nothing I
could do.
“If they don’t let us inside, we’ll have to go back to the new camp for the
night. At least we have blood and plasma there,” I thought out loud. Then I
walked over to the doctor and asked, “Can we drive him to the other camp?
Can he survive the bumpy road?”
“It would be very difficult. But he might live long enough to get there.”
Petrowski looked like a man who had been beaten. “But why are they doing
this? Why are they keeping us out of the camp?”
 “I think Igor finally lost control of the more sinister portion of his
character. And he hates Volkov, so he doesn’t care if the man lives or dies.”
“But the others? Why are they doing it?” the doctor pleaded, his voice
low and uncertain.
“I don’t know. But they have already been drinking. They must have
opened up the armory to get at the booze inside.” I saw Mikhail and Nina
handing a bottle back and forth.
I scuttled back behind T2 and asked people what they wanted to do. We
could just drive back to Camp 2, but we had to decide right away so we could
get Volkov back there for medical treatment. They all agreed, so we loaded
onto the two tractors, placing Volkov and the doctor in T2 with three other
people, including Lada driving. The rest of us climbed on board T4 for the
two-hour trip.
Maxim took the driver’s seat of T4 and realized there was no key in the
ignition. “That fucker Dubinin took the key.” He flew into a rage and jumped
down from the cab. He marched toward the gate where Igor still stood guard.
I saw what was about to happen and called on the intercom to Lada,
“Lada, you better get moving. We don’t have the key, but Maxim just
marched over to confront Igor. Get out of here quick.”
Without a response on the com, she revved up her tractor and took off for
the roadway. We waited in the cab of T4 to see what would happen next.
Maxim strode double time to the gate and shouted at Igor, “You fucking
asshole! What are you doing? Are you trying to kill all of us just because we
voted against you? Is that it?”
“So it was you who turned on me, you shit!” Igor snarled. “That is why I
didn’t tell you about this little coup of ours. You are not trustworthy. Now get
the hell out of here or I’ll shoot you too.”
“We can’t go anywhere without the key, asshole. Give us the key and
we’ll go.”
Igor sneered and said, “I don’t have the key. Besides, we need that tractor
more than you do. So just walk back to your lovely new camp. I hope a cat
gets you on the way.” He pointed his pistol at Maxim’s midsection.
Maxim had had enough of the talk and started yelling for Dubinin.
“Vladimir, where is that key? You son of a bitch, give me that key. If you
don’t give it to me, we’ll all probably die out here.”
To my surprise, Dubinin rushed out from the side of the toilet sledge and
into the light. “I didn’t know it would be like this. You have to believe me. I
just didn’t want to move the camp . . . That’s all.” Then he tossed the key
through the fence to Maxim. It sailed high in the air, and Maxim caught it
then ran toward T4.
When Igor saw the keys flying through the fence, he rushed over to
Dubinin and hit him in the face with his closed fist, knocking him to the
ground. “Those are my keys, you fool. We need that tractor.” Then he
stomped on Dubinin three or four times in a fury. His confederates watched
in horror.
Maxim started the tractor and swung it around to head south after the
others. We drove wildly on the road at first to catch up to T2 then fell in line
with them. They were making the best speed they could with the injured
Volkov inside. We all had a miserable ride.
We reached Camp 2 just after 9:00 p.m., still daylight, and threw
ourselves into setting up a hospital for the doctor and Volkov. The fastest
way was to unload the extra gear out of the kitchen unit and restore it to its
former role as a food-preparation trailer and hospital. Tamara and the doctor
set about giving Volkov two units of blood to stabilize him. We worked as a
team to move the other sledges into defensive positions, utilizing the kitchen
unit as part of a defensive wall with the others. We unloaded drums of fuel
and some other materials from S7, the lab building, and set up the office.
Maxim took charge of our defenses, positioning the five tractors around
the camp so we could use their sensors to scan the perimeter. T1 was placed
in a position where it could sweep most of the approaches to the camp from
the trees and its .50-caliber machine gun could be fully deployed. We finally
ate a meager dinner and slept in alternating guard shifts developed by Maxim.
***
I spent the night in the cab of T3, my old quarters with Irina, watching our
western flank. The good doctor chose to stay in the hospital unit with Volkov,
afraid he might not make it until dawn. Valeriya stayed with him to support
him in any way she could. Kira stayed inside with them since she had no rifle
training. Maxim and Regina were set up in T1 as northside sentries, ready to
operate the machine gun if we came under attack. Tamara and Lada held
down T6 facing east. Sensors on the tractors showed no movement or heat
signatures in the surrounding darkness.
Since we were coming up on the darkest part of the night, which was
only about an hour long on a bright summer night such as this, I took the first
watch. Irina fell into a restless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I was
left with my thoughts as I gazed out the windows and listened to the night
sounds. Being in a different meadow and next to a different forest, the sounds
of the night were new. I could hear the swish of animals rustling through the
grasses around us, most likely small rodents, and at one point I heard a
foxlike whine. Then I heard deer moving in the forest, their characteristic
hoofbeats clear in the darkness.
After getting familiar with the sounds, I let my thoughts ramble about
what had happened tonight and what it meant to us as a group of lonely
pioneers. First of all, we were now literally divided into two camps. Our
present camp had no electric fence, leaving us open to attack by large
animals. The odds of that happening were not great, but if we were beset by
wolves, we would have a hard time defending ourselves. In addition, all the
extra ammo was at the other camp. Our low numbers of shooters would also
work to our disadvantage.
Second, we were in a new part of the forest, and it was unclear what we
would come up against in this area. We had most of the food and all the
medical supplies and the other camp having little of either. Third, if we didn’t
get the two groups back together, our odds of making the return trip to
civilization in the fall were lessened. And fourth, if Volkov died, we would
be lacking leadership we could all follow, not to mention he knew the return
route better than any of us.
Then I made a mental list of who was with us here. We had Volkov, who
might not survive; me, a sort of jack-of-all-trades; and Irina, now our lead
researcher. We had Petrowski and Valeriya, our medical team. We had
Maxim, a trained soldier of questionable loyalty in my mind; Tamara, a loyal
and trustworthy soldier; and Regina. Then we had Lada, a biologist and large
animal specialist who was reliable in a pinch, and Kira, another biologist.
That gave us six shooters when the chips were down, one of whom might not
live through the night.
Igor, a dangerously empowered lunatic, and Mikhail, who also had some
exaggerated perception of his importance, led the other camp. They had Nina,
Victor, and Andre, trained soldiers who seemed to be enthralled by Igor’s
megalomania. Dubinin was there—a scientist, but no fighter by any stretch of
the imagination. Then there was Yana, a biologist who might have fallen in
love with the wrong man. They had five shooters, and they also had the
ammo, defensive fence, lights, and sensors. I was afraid that under Igor’s
leadership they might perform some desperate acts, some of them against us.
I looked down at Irina, lying there, curled up in her tank top and shorts,
her long red hair in a braid that lay around her neck, and I thought again of
how much she looked like the queen of hearts in my dream. As I began to
doze off, my view of her and the vision of the queen began to merge before
my eyes, until they were, in fact, Irina. Deep asleep, I noted that the king of
hearts was beside her. He wore a light beard and mustache with light hair like
mine. That was odd because I had originally interpreted that he was Boris,
Irina’s uncle, but Boris sported a very dark beard and mustache. So it wasn’t
him. I marveled at this new inconsistency. The king began to look familiar to
me, like someone I knew well, perhaps even myself.
A low sound entered my dream, a melodic song. I couldn’t quite make
out the lyrics, but I understood the meaning easily. The song reassured me
and made me feel safe, singing of the wonders of the night and how
everything was as it should be. As I listened in my dream, I began to float out
the window of the tractor and glide above the grasses of the meadow, down
to the place where East Creek and Beaver Creek joined. As I approached, I
could see the source of the song, and I recognized the vocalist, who turned
and smiled as I came near . . . It was Shadow.
I woke with a start and felt a hand on my chest, gently holding me from
rising. “You fell asleep. Not a good thing to do when on guard duty,” Irina
scolded gently and put my hand on her belly.
“I heard Shadow howling just now in my dream. He’s here to help protect
us.” I told Irina what I now knew to be true: “Our camp will be fine tonight.”
“Yes, we will be fine,” she whispered. “Now that it is becoming light
again, I can take the watch.” She pulled herself up to me and gave me a
loving kiss that said much. “But while we are alone, and given that our future
is less certain than it was yesterday, I have something important that I have to
tell you.” She put my hand on her belly.
 CHAPTER 32
Camp Zona 2
July 8

This was supposed to be the second day of the camp move, but instead of
consolidating our common camp, we, the occupants of Camp Zona 2, were
preoccupied with making a separate defensive encampment. First thing in the
morning, we ate our breakfasts at our sentry positions and learned over the
intercom from Petrowski that Volkov had made it through the night, but he
was still in critical condition and had not regained consciousness.
We held discussions over the intercom rather than on the radio so as not
to be overheard by the traitors at Camp 1. The intercom had a range of only
up to one mile on open ground, but the radio could be heard for up to ten
miles. We could learn what Camp 1 was up to by monitoring any
conversations they conducted over their radios. I asked Kira to keep three
handheld radios tuned to our usual frequency and two other possible channels
in case Igor and his henchmen began to move around. I was afraid they might
make a move against us today or tonight to gain more supplies.
Maxim took charge of building us a better, safer camp than we had
managed to throw together last night. He’d gotten an early start and
discovered that we possessed enough of the spare fencing supplies to build a
smaller two-wire electric fence. He could power it with the backup generator
at night. The camp would have to be rearranged somewhat to allow for a
shorter fence. Most of the people in camp worked with him to realize this
goal. We kept Kira and the doctor on the lookout for any activity in the
meadow or around the perimeter. Valeriya helped make a complete inventory
of what exactly we had in camp, something we had not been sure of because
of the hasty packing process the day before.
I worked with Irina and Lada to attach electrical insulators on the end
walls of the sledges that were arranged to form part of our outer defensive
wall. We arranged the kitchen, office, and supply sledges in an arc with no
gap between them. Then we placed the maintenance and fuel/lab sledges
across from them to complete the boundary line, but with a gap between
those two sledges wide enough to be our gate in and out of the camp. Maxim
worked with Tamara and Regina to install the eight spare fence posts we had
between the sledges to fill in our perimeter fence. Then we attached
insulators to the posts and strung wire to the insulators to form the two-strand
electric fence. We estimated that it would stop or at least slow down wolves
and lions. In reality, the animals were probably large enough to simply jump
over the top wire.
We broke at noon for a lunch of crackers and dried fruit. We collected
water from the nearby stream and treated the water with disinfectant tablets
so we could drink it with the dry crackers.
As we sat around outside the sledges on boxes, Kira called out from the
office that she heard radio chatter on channel one, our usual communications
channel. She came out with the radio for us all to hear. “They are taking the
tractors somewhere, but I can’t tell what they are doing. Rearranging the
sledges in camp?”
Then the radio crackled, and the signal drifted in and out as we listened.
“Mikhail, get that fence closed up so we can go. We don’t have a lot of time
to waste.” It was Igor’s voice. “And, Andre, keep an eye on Yana and
Dubinin . . . bad mood after yesterday. He might try something stupid. Do
what you have to do to . . . defend the camp, okay? You are in command until
we get back.”
Mikhail’s voice came next. “Victor and I are ready on mobile one.”
“Just a minute, Mika. I have T7 ready to roll.”
Andre came on the channel. “Igor, be careful. Beware of the lions. Don’t
do . . . disturb them.”
“Don’t worry so much . . . Be up there and back in four hours, five max,”
Igor said. “We will have another tractor to use when we come back, okay?”
Then Nina came on the channel. “Worst case we’ll drag one of them back
down here to repair it.”
Mikhail spoke again. “Let’s hope it will start . . . a little luck.”
“All right.” Igor gave the command to pull out. “Mika, you lead. Let’s
go.”
Then there was radio silence for some time.
“What the hell are they doing?” Maxim shouted. He stood up and paced
back and forth before turning to me. “Grant, it sounds like they’re going up to
the pass to try to get one of the old tractors started. Igor is crazy about getting
more tractors.”
I said, “I thought that they would be thinking about how to get something
from us today.” I turned to Tamara. “What do you think, Tami?”
“I thought we would have trouble from them today too.” She looked
around at everybody in the camp, and a sudden change came over her face.
“Why are they transmitting on our regular channel in the open like this?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it’s just a habit.”
“Or they are up to something,” Maxim said. “Maybe they assume we’re
listening and want to distract us.”
A dozen possibilities raced through my mind. “You mean they might do
something stupid after all?”
Maxim, still standing, kicked the dirt and swore a blue streak. “That idiot
Igor might try to attack us to get more supplies, especially food.” He looked
quickly at each of us. “They may be trying to make us think they’re on the
road to the pass, when really they’re on the way here to catch us off guard.”
“I’m not so sure,” Regina said. “Igor is a very straightforward guy. I
think if he wanted food, he would just come and take it. He wouldn’t worry
about subterfuge.”
“That sounds more like Nina’s input. I agree,” Tamara added. “But we
should probably assume they are up to something.”
“Okay, let’s do this,” I said. “Let’s assume that they are coming here
now. How do we repel an attack?” I looked to Maxim and Tamara as the two
most senior military people, next to Volkov.
“We should put out sentries and prepare to be mobile,” Maxim said right
away. “They will expect us to be working on our camp defense like we have
been doing. They would expect us to be in a small confined area, not spread
out.”
“And we need to be able to spot them before they get here,” Tamara said.
“If they are driving tractors here, there is only one way they can come: down
the road through the forest. So we can detect them coming early . . . if they
drive a tractor, that is.”
“Why would they bring a tractor?” I asked.
 “If they bring T7, they have the machine gun on board,” Maxim said. “In
a surprise attack they can do a lot of damage with that.” He looked at Tamara,
and they both suddenly grinned as they came up with a solution. “If we move
T1 into the tree line, we will have a surprise for them and an equal weapon to
use against them.”
“At least until we run out of fifty-caliber ammo,” Regina added.
Maxim and Tamara sprang into action, testing the new gate in order to
take T1 out to the edge of the trees a hundred yards away. Then they set up a
plan to surveil the road coming from Camp 1. They wanted me to act as
sentinel.
I agreed thinking it might be okay if I had Shadow as my extra eyes and
ears. The only problem was that I had not seen Shadow, only heard him
during the night. At that time he seemed to indicate he would be away
somewhere for a while. How long a while meant to a wolf escaped me. In any
case, I was dispatched to the north with a radio set on channel three and a pair
of binoculars. The rest of the camp set to work finishing the fence.
I walked cautiously up the road alone for about a half mile and sat on a
fallen tree a few yards off the road where there was some cover. I didn’t like
being there alone, a complete violation of our rule of having three people on
an away party. I was jumpy and scared to death. Every sound seemed to
come from something sneaking up on me, and I whipped my head to look in
each direction, clutching my shotgun in my hand. A bird landed on a branch
and screeched at me. A squirrel scrambled up a tree to stare down at me and
chatter his disapproval. The wind suddenly dislodged some leaves that rustled
to the ground.
Then I realized that something was watching me. I looked to the uphill in
the trees and saw movement. I dropped to the ground and pulled up my
binoculars. Nothing moved. Then I saw a large light gray wolf with a black
spot on his chest staring at me, tongue out, sitting perfectly still.
He watched me. He was about forty yards from me and very calm. He did
not seem threatening in any way. As I watched, he lay down and began to
talk. Not English, but in the whining, woofing, moaning style that Shadow
did. He was talking to me, but I didn’t know his tongue. I realized that all this
time I had been listening to this same whining speech from Shadow, he had
been trying to talk to me. Or so it seemed. Maybe I was going crazy.
You hear me, came into my mind. How was that possible?
I live in these woods. I am Wooderadd.
How did these thoughts come to me? I heard the wolf speaking but did
not understand his words. Yet I could understand.
The wolf whined and woofed a little more, and thoughts came into my
mind.
Wuleron has sent me to help you. I am his friend.
Who is Wuleron? I thought. How is this happening?
More whining and moaning. He is your Shadow.
My mind went blank for a moment. When I regained my focus, the gray
wolf was standing ten yards from me. He seemed alert and concerned,
looking north and whining in an anxious manner. He looked at me then
moved his gaze to the north, indicating the direction. Then in the distance, far
away, I heard the report of machine-gun fire. I heard the mighty scream of a
saber-toothed lion rise from a low moaning roar to a wild shrill that I hadn’t
heard before.
The scream had come from Sheba Pass.
I jumped to my feet, violently alert and filled with adrenaline. I looked at
the wolf, and he pulled in his tongue as if to say, “This is it.”
I asked, “Where is Shadow? Where is Wuleron? I need his help.”
The gray whined a short response in what I now understood to be the
“wolf tongue.” He comes from far away. That was all.
I lifted my radio and called camp on channel three to see if they had
heard the gunfire. Tamara responded, “Yes, we heard something but couldn’t
tell where it came from. Are you all right, Grant? Has anyone come there?”
“No, no one came, and I’m all right.” I listened to the gunfire far away.
“Can’t you hear that? There’s a lot of shooting up there.”
“No, I hear something . . . not clear. Let me step into the open.”
“Now can you hear?” I turned to look at my new furry friend, and he
seemed to be disturbed.
The great feline is angry.
Tamara’s voice came to me over the radio. “Now I hear a few shots. Is
that from . . . shooting at you? Oh my God!” Tamara was shouting to
someone else that I might be under fire.
“No! No. I’m okay. No one is shooting at me. It’s in the pass.”
“What? . . . you okay? . . . in the pass?”
“Yes, I’m coming into camp. I have a friend with me. Do not shoot!”
I began to run back to camp. As I did so, I switched to channel one to
listen to what was happening. Nothing. Then back to channel three and
Tamara. “Grant, where are you? Are you coming back?”
Just then I burst out of the trees and into the open, with a gigantic gray
wolf running at my side. I stopped dead in my tracks, and the gray halted to
turn around and see why we had stopped.
“I am in the meadow. Do you see me? I have a wolf with me. He is my
friend. Do not shoot! I repeat . . . Do not shoot.”
Then I saw Tamara on top of T2 waving at me. Everything would be all
right for now. I turned to the wolf and said, “You should stay here by the
trees. I would like you to come with me, but the other people don’t know
wolves. They would be afraid. Do you understand?”
Wooderadd understands.
I ran the rest of the way to camp and crawled through the two-wire
defense system. Maxim called out to stand clear for a test. His team had
rigged up the generator to electrify the fence while I was gone.
I shouted to everyone, “Did you hear? There is shooting in Sheba Pass.
Igor and the others must have gone up there. So there will be no attack from
them today.”
Tamara called to me to come to the office. “We can hear something on
channel one now with the main radio. They are in trouble.”
“. . . leave her, damn it. We have to go . . . Okay, fire another burst at that
bitch cat.” It was Igor’s voice. “C’mon, Nina, let her go. Mikhail, I can’t hold
it off forever . . . Move.”
Then Mikhail shouted something. “. . . more burst on the left and I can
get . . . Do it, Igor.”
Over the radio we heard the roar of the machine gun and shouting from
Nina. “Mikhail, I have her . . . Go, damn it!”
There was silence for several seconds, then “. . . right behind me . . .
Shoot that bitch . . . Can’t . . . faster.” We heard the sounds of a desperate
struggle.
Silence again. Then “. . . right on us, Mikhail . . . get a shot? Just shoot it.
Now!”
We heard glass breaking on the radio and the sound of an ASH gun
blasting away.
More silence. Several seconds passed.
“. . . she stopped. Keep going.” The sound of a few more shots.
Silence.
I looked around me. Everyone was silent, nervous, and afraid.
I caught Irina’s eye. She was as pale as a ghost. Tamara looked angry.
Maxim looked determined, the others spellbound.
“Holy shit, that was close . . . was right up on the cab for a min . . . broke
the window . . . Are you okay, Mikhail?”
“. . . okay. Not a scratch . . . nearly on the mobile with me. Ha ha.”
Then we heard a voice from Camp 1. “Are you okay? What the hell
happened?”
“. . . no tractor but scared the . . . us. All okay. Hard on the . . . vodka
ready. Coming . . . hot.”
Then the transmissions ended with static.
***
We finished the work to make the camp safe for the night, at least as safe as
we could. We closed up the gate in the fence and turned it on for a test.
Everything seemed to work as planned. Lada experimented with how to link
the sensors in each of the tractors to a central control station but couldn’t get
it to work properly. We would need to sleep in the three main tractors again
tonight just to operate their sensor systems.
Maxim was convinced we should maintain a high-alert status all night
because of Igor and his unpredictable ways. Tamara disagreed because she
thought he would be too drunk to plan an attack after the day’s adventure up
in the pass. I didn’t think he would make an attempt on us tonight, but I felt
we should be cautious in any case. Regardless of our fears, we were better
able to protect ourselves now than the previous night.
We ate dinner late, and Petrowski gave us an update on Volkov’s
condition. He had stabilized. Volkov would survive, but he had been
unconscious for so long. “The longer someone is unconscious, the greater are
the chances that he will not recover from the coma,” he said. “If Max doesn’t
wake up by morning, I will try to snap him out of it by using stimulants. If
that doesn’t work, there is no way to tell how long he will be out.”
“What happens then?” Regina asked. “How are we going to operate
without Volkov? We need someone to be in charge.”
Valeriya added, “Maybe we should elect a temporary leader until Max
wakes up.”
“I agree we need someone to make decisions and be in charge for now,” I
said, turning to Maxim. “It would be logical that Maxim take on that role as
the senior soldier present.”
Maxim immediately held up his hands. “I appreciate your confidence, but
given the way things have fallen apart recently, I think any leader ought to be
a scientist. We have not had good luck with soldiers in charge since we lost
the colonel’s leadership.”
“Maybe you should lead, Grant,” Petrowski said. “Our leader will have to
negotiate with Igor, and you would be good at that. You have a cooler head
than most of us.”
“No, I don’t think I’d be a good choice. It should be someone who has a
security background. Safety is our biggest concern now, especially now that
Igor and his crew have turned against us.”
“Grant, you would be a good leader for us now. You must consider it,”
Tamara argued. “I would love to do it, but I am not skilled in many things,
especially keeping my temper under control when I think of that ass Igor.
Besides, it would only be temporary.”
Maxim said, “Let’s have a vote.” He smiled at me devilishly, using my
own gambit against me. “All in favor of Grant as our leader, raise your
hand.” Everyone except Volkov and me raised their hand. Maxim laughed
and began to clap. “Congratulations, you are our new leader.”
“But I don’t want to be the leader. I just want things to be as they were a
few days ago, peaceful and all of us together.” I shook my head and pointed a
finger at Maxim for getting me into this.
“Spoken like a true politician,” Lada said. “You can do it. We will hope
that Volkov recovers and you can retire. The fact that we just elected you
should be enough to snap him out of his coma. He will rise at any moment.”
She laughed uncontrollably at that image, and soon we were all enthralled
with the joke.
When everyone settled down and we finished eating, I asked the others to
consider our next move. “I think we have to negotiate with Igor. We could
trade him food and medical supplies for ammunition and anything else we
think we need.” I hesitated. “But I don’t think we can do it now. They’re
probably drunk already.”
“This is true,” Regina said, as someone who knew him better than the rest
of us. “It is best to wait until he discovers for himself that they are running
out of supplies.” She looked grim. “Then he would see the need. Otherwise
he could be difficult.”
“Okay. Let’s do this,” I said. “Valeriya has finished her inventory, so
tomorrow we can sit down with her and make a list of what we need. Then
we wait for the right opening to negotiate. Okay?” Several people nodded
their heads in approval. “Besides, I haven’t given up hope that most of the
others will come to their senses and rejoin us.”
We discussed a few other issues then broke up for the night. Irina and I
were to stand guard in T3 again, so I walked her to the tractor. “I have to talk
to Wooderadd before I can go inside. Can you take the watch until I get
back?”
“Yes, no problem.” She reached out and took my arm. “We need to talk
about how things will work out when our baby is due. And we need to tell the
others very soon too.” She looked shyly at me. “You are happy, aren’t you?
With the baby, I mean?” Hope was in her eyes.
I took her in my arms and said, “I couldn’t be happier. There will be a lot
to plan for, but we can make this happen. You’ll see.” We kissed gently.
Then I trotted to the fence and shut down the power to the gate to step
outside for a few minutes. The gray wolf waited by the edge of the trees. I
radioed to the other sentries that I was going to talk to the wolf and not to
shoot us.
When I reached him, Wooderadd let me know he would now wait on
guard in the forest north of camp. That was all. He just loped away into the
trees and shadows.
When I reentered the gate and switched the power back on, Lada ran over
to greet me. She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a wonderful
kiss. I hadn’t been with her for a few nights, so I was happy to see her. She
pulled me into the maintenance shed and closed the door. I told her I should
get back on sentry duty, but she wouldn’t listen. To my surprise, though, she
was not interested in sex; she wanted to talk. She lifted her shirt and put my
hand on her belly.
“You’re going to be a daddy.”
 CHAPTER 33
Camp Zona 2
July 9

I was standing watch from T3 when I received the mental image of a giant
saber-toothed lion creeping up on an electric fence. It jolted me. I looked all
around me to see if there were any lions near our wire. I didn’t see any, even
after scanning several times. I used the intercom to see if anyone else had
seen a cat anywhere. The answer was no, but my question made the other
sentries jumpy.
Heavy clouds drifted across the valley, darkening our world and
threatening to unleash another thunderstorm on our heads. Mist rose up the
valley along the creeks and began to flow into the meadow, covering the
ground in silver haze. It was unusually quiet. There were none of the usual
sounds of small animals creeping through the grass or forest. The wind came
up to provide a rustle of grass and the flutter of leaves, creating a white noise
that smothered my hearing.
I felt rather than heard a message: The cats are moving tonight. It was
Wooderadd. He sent me the message. Yet I didn’t know how it could be so. I
looked across the camp at our other flanks. Nothing. I looked for the gray
wolf to the north and also saw nothing. Then it came again. Cats are
assembling.
I reached over to wake Irina so she could help me search for movement
outside. She covered the southwest, and I covered the northwest quarter of
our view. I called to Tamara, who was in T6, to see if she detected
movement, then to Maxim in T1 to our north. No one saw anything sinister
happening.
I tried to contact Wooderadd by talking out loud. “Where are you? Do
you see lions?” I repeated several times. I didn’t know how my
communication with him worked, but if I spoke out loud, he seemed to
understand. Then, in my mind’s eye, I saw Camp 1 in the dark. It looked
normal, but there were no lights on anywhere, as if no one was on guard duty.
There were little green flashes of light along one wire of the perimeter fence
as the wind blew through the camp. Then I saw Sheba approach the fence.
“Grant, listen. What’s that noise?” Irina was startled by a high-pitched
sound, somewhat like wind blowing through an empty pipe, a hollow squeal
on the open end. A wail followed, then another. They came from far away to
the north, drifting in on the wind. Then a mixture of screams and roars,
subdued by the wind, flowed to our ears. It was the sound of angry lions
cursing the unseen devil of electric wires.
“We have to radio Camp One,” I shouted over the intercom. “Everyone
wake up! I think Camp One is under attack.” I opened the door of the tractor
and leaped out to run to the office, where Petrowski cut the current on the
fence to let me in. I threw on the lights and turned on the main radio to
channel one. Nothing. What is happening? If they were under attack, they
should have been calling back and forth about what was going on, unless they
were using the intercom.
Regina ran in from T1 to see what was happening. “What is it? We hear
strange noises from the north, far away, maybe as far as Camp One.” She
tried to catch her breath. “Are they in trouble?”
“I’m not sure. I had an image of Sheba standing by the camp fence
somehow.” I couldn’t explain what had happened. “I think the gray wolf is
there watching. I see what he is seeing sometimes. I don’t know how.”
“Are you kidding me? That is what this is all about? You are having
dreams about cats?” She looked at me like I was crazy and punched me in the
shoulder. I couldn’t blame her.
Then we heard a new sound, one that we recognized. The wind conveyed
it imperfectly through the night air, the sound wafting through the trees to our
ears. But this time we all heard it. Gunfire.
We heard the sound of rifle fire, little pops in the darkness. Then the wind
would shift and drag the sound with it. Then it would drift back again, pop,
pop, pop. Then a burst of automatic weapons fire. Then silence. Then we
heard the distinctive roar of the .50-caliber machine gun, fired in short bursts,
fired properly. Then silence again. Then more shooting.
The radio suddenly crackled alive, scaring the hell out of all of us. Static
at first, then an open mic channeling shots and awful-sounding screams. “. . .
Get out there . . . Watch the back, over there now . . . Oh God! It’s coming
through . . . Shit, that was close. Again! Again! . . .”
“. . . Hello, Grant, Maxim. . . . Come in! Please, come in.” It was Yana’s
voice. “. . . Help us. . . . Please, help! . . . Can you hear me? Can . . .”
“Jesus Christ! They’re under attack,” Lada shrieked through the intercom
as the sounds continued. “It must be the sabertooths. We have to help them.”
Tamara came running into the office. “Let’s try to contact them.” She
picked up the headset and talked calmly on the open channel. “Camp One, do
you read me? This is Tami . . . Camp One, are you there? Come in, Come in.”
Static. Then silence. Then static again.
“Camp One, do you read me? Come in, please.”
“. . . Hello? Hello. Are you there? . . . Can you hear me?” Crying on the
other end. A scream. “. . . They are coming through the fence. Please . . . help
us. . . . Oh no!” The sound of a shotgun, bam, bam, bam.
“Okay. We have to go,” I said pragmatically. “We have to try to help
them.”
“Are you crazy?” Maxim was on the intercom. “We can’t risk going up
there. It would be suicide.”
“But we have to try. We have to do something,” Regina shouted into the
speaker. “We can’t just leave them to die.”
“Listen to me, Gina,” Maxim said calmly. “They left us, remember? They
threw us out in the forest to die.” Maxim remained very calm, though I
couldn’t see his face. “They wouldn’t help us.”
No one spoke.
I couldn’t believe what he had said. I didn’t think he would go so far as to
leave them to a terrible fate. Yet maybe he was right. For us to try to rescue
Camp 1 in the darkness was a crazy idea. Even if we made it to the camp,
what could we do? The only heavy weapon we had was the T1 tractor with its
machine gun.
Then I heard the .50-caliber at Camp 1. They must have reloaded because
it was active again. Now the wind brought us the sound of angry lions and
roaring guns. Many pop, pop, pop sounds of rifles. Then the bam, bam, bam
of shotguns. Maybe they were holding on. Was it possible to hold out against
several lions if they got through the fence?
“Tamara, try to raise them again. Find out how many lions there are,
okay?” I ran from the office to the old fuel sledge and yelled for Regina to
come with me.
When we got to the sledge, we rolled out three of the empty twenty-five-
gallon fuel drums. We poured a gallon of gasoline in each one and resealed it.
Then we took another that was nearly full of gas. Regina smiled at me as she
realized what we were doing. “Cats hate fire.”
I ran back to the office and asked Tamara what she had heard. She
reported, “I got ahold of Dubinin. He is hiding inside a sledge. He said there
were at least eleven lions that attacked from all sides. At least two got
through the wire. He thinks Igor is dead.” Her manner was grave. “That’s all
he knows.”
Maxim came running into the office from his sentry position. “We can’t
go out there, Grant. I know what you’re thinking, but it won’t make a
difference. We shouldn’t even try.”
“Listen,” I said into the intercom speaker so all of our people, those in the
camp and in the tractors, could hear me. “I think that we have to try to help
Camp One. It will be risky, but we have to try.”
“Why?” Kira asked over the speaker. “Maybe Maxim is right.”
“Because we are the only other humans here in Zona. Regardless of what
Igor has done to us, we must try to help them because if we don’t, we could
never live with ourselves.” I didn’t know how to explain what I felt—a sense
of duty, a sense of honor. “If we don’t go, we will never know if we could
have made a difference or not. It is better to try and fail than do nothing at
all.” I looked around the room and could see that they were not sure. I heard
someone sniffle over the intercom.
Finally I said, “My friends, I would not want someone someday to think
of me as the guy who didn’t try to help a friend. I don’t want people to think I
was a coward.” I looked around and saw that a few people agreed with me,
but what could they do? Most of us were just scientists, not heroes. Maybe it
was foolhardy to attempt a rescue, but I knew I needed to try.
I reached over and picked up my two shotguns and my ammo bag. I stuck
my Makarov in my belt and took our only ASH gun, with its bandolier of
ammo magazines. I stepped out the door and was suddenly embraced by
Irina, who had come running from our tractor. She seemed to know what I
had in mind. Lada came and smothered me with kisses. I hugged them both
before I broke free and trudged toward the cab of T1.
Then Tamara came running up to me and said in a bold tone, “I will come
with you, idiot.” She brandished her shotguns and ammo. She pulled her
close-combat knife out of her boot holster and waved it in the air. “In case we
get really close,” she said with a sense of style, her head held high, a garish
grin, and a wink of her right eye. Then she began a huge, raucous, and crazy
laugh that filled the whole camp.
“And I will go.” Regina stepped out of the office lugging every kind of
weapon she could carry. “I owe it to Andre and Victor.”
“I would like to go,” Petrowski said over the intercom, “but I can’t fight
worth a damn.” He paused. “But I can patch you up when you return.”
“Thank you, my friend,” I said.
Then Maxim called out from the office unit, “Well, so it is.” He spoke as
though he were going to mock me for my naiveté. “You will all go off to die?
To commit suicide? I can’t let you do that.” He stepped outside and walked to
me.
I stopped to turn and say something nasty in response, but I saw the
troubled look on his face. I waited for him to finish his thought.
“Just a minute,” he said, ducking back inside the office. He called out to
me, “I can’t let you die alone.” Maxim stepped out of the doorway of the
office, a smile spreading across his face. “Besides, Tamara is a terrible driver
if you mean to take the T1.” He joined us carrying his go bag, loaded with
weaponry.
A cheer went up from our various locations and the intercom.
We loaded the gas drums on the rear of T1 and strapped them down for
the drive. We placed all the .50-caliber ammo we owned inside the cab and
climbed on board. I left Petrowski in charge with Lada as his security officer.
I kissed Irina and Lada goodbye.
We climbed into T1, exited the gate into the growing darkness, and drove
away from our lives as we knew them. It would be getting light by the time
we reached Camp 1 if we drove like there was no tomorrow.
***
Maxim drove like the devil himself, forcing our tractor to race over the rough
road to Camp 1. We were packed into the cab with all our gear, extra boxes
of ammo stashed around the sides. As we clanked along, Regina and I
dropped the windows and secured them so we could shoot out the sides and
the rear. The four gas drums on the back end were strapped down so we
could cut them loose as we drove along. The full one was tied on its side so
that, at the right time, I could open its plug to release a gasoline trail behind
us. The .50-caliber gun was charged and ready. All Maxim or Tamara needed
to do was stand up through the hatch in the roof and fire the weapon.
Tamara tried to raise someone at Camp 1 to let them know we were
coming, but no one answered her transmission. We checked our weapons one
last time and settled into our bouncing seats for the last part of the wild ride.
I tried to clear my head and focus on Wooderadd, speaking to him as if he
were sitting next to me in the cab. I could hear nothing from him, no words,
no images. All I could hear was the crashing and banging of our vehicle as
we pounded along the way.
Darkness surrounded us as the heavy cloud cover masked the beginning
of a new day. Low fog crept through the forest alongside us as we traveled.
Our world was limited to the road illuminated by our headlights.
After trying repeatedly to get someone at the camp, Tamara looked at
Regina and me. “I hope we’re not too late.”
We suddenly came out of the forest and into the meadow surrounding
Camp 1. The camp was lighted on three sides by klieg lights, and we could
see giant animals roaming along the exterior of the fence line. There were a
few scattered lights in the interior of the camp, but we could not see what was
happening there due to the scourge of fog. The animals were saber-toothed
lions, most of them pacing along the west side of camp, perhaps six or seven
of them. Others roved around on the other sides, and we saw one inside the
camp.
Maxim drove straight toward the west side, where most of the attackers
were trying to get through a gap in the fence. It looked like one or more cats
had charged the fence and created enough space between the wires for them
to slip through. We approached fast, and Tamara climbed into position on the
machine gun to fire as we roared into action.
 A large lion at the southwest corner of camp observed us and turned to
swat at us, roaring as it lifted one huge paw, claws extended. Tamara didn’t
fire until we were within twenty yards, then laid a burst of twenty rounds
right into the cat’s neck and head. The machine gun spewed out a shaft of
flame and death in the dark mist, tracers arcing toward their target. That kind
of firepower should have cut the animal’s head off, but this beast reared up
and thrashed the air with its paws as we drove right next to it. Luckily its
swipes missed, and we continued north along the fence line. It finally fell on
its side and thrashed the ground.
We came up on another lion so fast, Tamara had time to shoot only a
burst into its side as we passed recklessly close to the fence. The cat
screamed and thrashed as it glared at us with hatred.
Tamara ran out of ammo and reloaded her weapon. The next lion swung a
mighty paw at our vehicle. Tamara ducked just in time to avoid being ripped
from her position at the turret. She popped up again and laid into the next
animal with a clean volley that landed several rounds in the lion’s chest.
Regina and I fired slugs from our shotguns at the animals as we passed,
landing several hits in their flanks and chests, hitting nothing vital. They all
began to turn on us as we passed. As we drove along, I caught a glimpse of
light from gunfire from one of the sledges in the compound. I saw the T7
tractor sitting idle, its cab partly smashed and no one firing. They might have
run out of ammo and retreated.
“Get the gas drums ready back there,” Maxim yelled above the roar of the
machine gun. “I’m going to turn around for another pass close to the fence.”
Tamara fired rounds from the .50-caliber gun into another lion as we
reached the northwest corner of the camp and began up the road to turn
around. Then we heard the click-click-click of her gun running out of
ammunition. “More ammo, now!” she shouted. Regina sprang into action and
hauled up a metal box of .50-caliber ammo while Tamara dropped the empty
boxes over the side of the vehicle. She laid the first rounds of the belt into the
breach and slammed down the cover. She pressed the trigger to confirm her
gun was in working order. Then, as we turned around, she stacked our last
boxes of ammo where she could reach them.
Maxim turned the vehicle around as Regina and I shot out from the rear
window to keep the nearest cat away. It seemed to take forever to make the
turn, and I shifted to a side window to blast away as yet another lion came at
us and swung its paw at the cab. It landed a blow that knocked us all to the
floor, except Tamara, who was able to turn enough to shoot the cat in its rear
quarters. That caused it to withdraw and lick its wounds as we completed the
turn.
“Are you ready?” shouted Maxim as he revved the engine for our next
run along the fence.
“Regina, cover me while I get the gas barrel open.” I realized how stupid
this idea was then because I needed to climb out through the rear window to
reach the plug at the back of the gas barrel. There was no time to think about
it, so I threw myself through the window and onto the drums.
“Wait for me a sec,” I yelled at Maxim so he wouldn’t pop the clutch and
hurl me over the back end of the tractor. I climbed down alongside the full
drum and stretched to reach the end of the barrel to turn the plug. It turned,
but it was at an awkward position and taking me several seconds. As I
worked on it, I heard Tamara cut loose with the big gun and Regina blasting
away with the ASH gun as lions converged on us.
“What the hell are you doing back there, idiot?” Tamara yelled. “We’re
going to get killed.”
The plug fell free, and gas began to flow freely from the barrel. I looked
up, and a gigantic head appeared right behind our vehicle, not more than a
yard from me. There was just enough time for me to pull back as the cat
realized it was standing in a pool of gasoline. I crawled through the window,
and Regina helped haul me in.
“Go! Go! Go!” she shouted, and Maxim drove straight ahead as Tamara
fired into a lion at point-blank range on our right side. As we began to move,
Regina gave me a nasty look. I looked out the back window and saw the
gasoline-soaked lion hesitate before chasing us along the gasoline trail we
were leaving behind. Tamara fired almost continuously now. Regina blasted
the ASH gun out the left rear window.
I reached up and took Tamara’s combat knife from her boot holster,
leaned out the window, and cut the strap on one of the empty drums. Then I
pushed it off the tail of T1 right in front of the following lion. The lion
tripped on the drum and stopped to paw at it, a new menace. I grabbed an
AK-74 with its alternating tracer rounds and pointed it out the window at the
drum just as Tamara’s gun sounded click-click-click and she shouted, “I’m
out.” She threw an empty ammo box over the side and set a new one in place.
I fired at the barrel. A short burst of a dozen rounds, including several
tracers. Nothing. Then I fired the rest of the magazine and kaboom. The
barrel had been bouncing around during our drive, and a lot of the gas inside
had vaporized. Now it ripped open in a huge explosion that set the cat on fire
and ignited our gasoline trail. That was what I had intended as the gas began
to burn rapidly in our direction.
“Yebena mat'!” Maxim shouted as the fireball lighted up the whole area.
“Holy shit!”
Tamara shouted, “I’m up again,” and began cutting into the nearest cat
with .50-caliber rounds.
“Help me reload, idiot.” Regina punched me as I admired the fireball.
Then she smiled, and I knew she liked the pyrotechnics.
I cut another drum loose then set about reloading shotguns as Regina the
hellcat pumped round after round out the windows to keep lions from
reaching inside the cab with their mighty paws. Even so, the beasts raked the
tractor with their claws. Then I cut loose the third barrel and shot at the
second one. It lit up more quickly this time and scared a few of the lions
away from the fence for a little while. Then I fired at the last barrel, and it
exploded in a massive fireball.
“Drive faster. The fire is almost here,” Tamara said. “I’m out. No more
fifty-cal ammo.” She dropped down and grabbed a shotgun. She yelled at me,
“Reload.”
Maxim drove past the end of the fence and shouted, “Cut that barrel free
or we’ll burn up too.” I dove for the window with the knife and hacked at the
straps holding it in place.
“Okay, it’s free,” I shouted, and Maxim popped the clutch to dump the
barrel off the back side. I nearly tumbled out with it, except that Tamara
grabbed my leg to prevent me from falling.
I reloaded gun after gun as the guards passed them to me. They kept
firing out the windows. We took up a position on the south side of the camp,
shooting at the cats as they came, but there were too many of them for us now
without the machine gun. They began to converge on us.
Maxim started driving for the trees and the roadway. I fumbled with the
ammo boxes. I couldn’t believe it. This was the last box of shotgun shells.
How had we gone through so much ammo so fast?
“Last box of ammo!” I shouted.
Regina looked at me in disbelief.
Tamara said, “Oh shit! Head back for the fire, Maxim! Cats hate fire.”
Then we stopped dead in our tracks as the engine died.
“What the fuck!” Maxim turned the engine over as we sat still in the
meadow. Nothing. “We’re out of gas! What the fuck!” He jumped out of the
cab and ran up to the engine compartment as five monster saber-toothed lions
slowly approached like cats ready to pounce on a mouse. We were the mice.
“The fuel line was cut,” Maxim reported. “That last damn lion must have
caught it as we drove by.” He climbed back inside, and we each took a
window for our field of fire, the women with the last loaded shotguns, Maxim
with the AK, and me with my Makarov, absolutely desperate.
The cats somehow knew we were nearly defenseless and came at us
slowly and deliberately, surrounding us. The first one sprang at us, and
Tamara blasted it three times while it swung a giant paw at her, denting the
side of the cab near her. Then one came from the back, and Regina said,
“Duck, Grant!” as she swung to my window and fired at the approaching
menace. Again the cat backed off for a moment after banging the tractor cab.
I was now getting ready for the worst. I heard Tamara reciting what I
assumed was the Russian version of the Lord’s Prayer. Regina joined her,
and they said it again, louder this time. I thought about not seeing Irina and
Lada again. Of my failure to find Randall after all this adventure. And it was
all going to end right here, right now.
I cleared my mind for one last stand as the cats now approached on all
sides in the early light of morning. I shot at the closest lion with my Makarov
until my magazine ran out. The cat didn’t seem to notice my shots.
All was lost.
Then I felt rather than heard, I am here.
Maxim said, “Holy shit! Holy shit.”
 He pointed to the tree line close to us. We all turned to look at what he
saw.
I said, “Don’t shoot. They’re our friends.”
Out of the trees, out of the morning mist, I saw Shadow step majestically
forward. He spoke in his quiet way of woofing and ended it with a firm growl
that stopped the lions in place. Then out of the mist stepped the largest, most
beautiful light-colored wolves I had ever seen. Ten wolves on each of
Shadow’s flanks came into the meadow. They all began to growl, creating a
thunderous sound that rose to a roar and shook the air.
Then they sprang forward to attack the lions around us, diving for the
throat or head, often two or three to a cat. The fighting was intense, wolves
violently sinking their long fangs into the cats’ necks, slashing and tearing in
such an overwhelming brawl that some lions were shredded before they knew
what happened. Some fought ferociously, ripping the wolves with their saber-
like claws. A few lions were torn to pieces. The remaining four began to run
toward the road that led to Sheba Pass. Half the wolves chased the surviving
lions from the meadow while the other wolves surrounded Camp 1.
I expected Shadow to stop to see if we were okay, but he ran past us to
the west side of the camp. All his remaining wolves looked into the camp and
growled. Shadow trotted to the fence and stared past the wires at two giant
lions on the inside. He growled at the cats and spoke in wolf tongue to them.
The lions were bigger than the ones we had been fighting. Tamara
pointed at one and said, “It’s Sheba. The other must be Solomon.” Indeed, the
second one was even taller than Sheba, nearly ten feet high at the shoulder.
They had medium brown coats with gray stripes running diagonally through
them, huge heads with massive jaws, and bodies that bulged with muscle and
strength. Their yellow eyes shone in the camp lights, cruel and active like
they were already thinking about how they would eat us next. Solomon was
eating something, something that looked like a human leg. He dropped it and
roared. The whole camp shook.
Then Sheba ran at the north fence and jumped nearly over it, catching her
hind foot on the top wire for a second, just enough to trip her so that she fell
on her side. Instantly three wolves leaped on her, ripping and tearing as she
rolled on her back and tried to fend them off with her fierce claws. Seeing
Sheba under attack, Solomon ran for the fence, now damaged, and jumped
over it into the fray. He charged into the cluster of wolves and bowled two
over with his momentum.
A wild and desperate fight ensued as Solomon swept his powerful paws
at the wolves and they jumped in to grab him by the throat. He knocked three
of the wolves to the side long enough for Sheba to regain her feet. Then the
two lions bolted into the forest, headed for their lair up in the pass, seven
wolves on their tails.
Shadow loped gracefully over to us. He came to within five paces of our
vehicle as we clambered out onto the grass. I stepped to his side and held my
hand out for him to smell. He did so, and I understood him as he woofed to
me.
The lions have broken the treaty and need to be taught a lesson. My
soldiers will kill those who transgressed the law. Except their rulers, the ones
you call Sheba and Solomon. They should behave now. For a time, perhaps.
Shadow looked at me and nuzzled my side. You are safe now, my friend.
Then he turned and loped off with his remaining fellows toward the pass.
 CHAPTER 34
Camp Zona 2
July 19

Ten days had passed since the attack on Camp 1. We learned that Igor had
killed one lion that entered the camp before we arrived. We had fought
thirteen lions. We killed three and shot up a few more. The wolves killed
another eight, some of them weakened by our gunfire. Sheba and Solomon
retreated into their cave and hid from further retribution.
After the fighting, we entered Camp 1 and found utter devastation. Our
friends who had stayed there and tried to defend it had been killed in the most
hideous manner. We recovered the bodies and, in some cases, body parts we
could find and buried them the next day in the meadow near the camp
alongside Diana. Igor, Mikhail, Victor, Andre, and Nina had fought
heroically against terrible odds and lost.
We found Dubinin and Yana alive, hiding in one of the old sledges we
had brought down from the pass. Dubinin had suffered extreme injuries that
our doctor was unable to treat. He died later on the day of the battle.
Yana was unscathed physically, but the fear had driven her mind into a
deep withdrawal that we could not breach. Valeriya and the doctor treated her
like their own daughter, and our resident psychologist said she might
eventually come back to reality.
For the next several days, we tore down Camp 1 and used the materials to
build and stock our new camp. We had a full new electric fence, klieg lights,
and sensors. We had all the equipment that was salvageable. Camp 2 was
now quite safe and even comfortable with the extra sledges for housing.
I shared the maintenance shed with my friends Irina and Lada. Tamara
and Regina kept their options open, sleeping in their old tractor but also with
us occasionally. Maxim and Kira were now together, and her pregnancy was
expected any day now. Yana lived with the doctor and Val but had a separate
room and bed in their abode. Only Volkov stayed alone.
The doctor said that the hormones in the atmosphere must have
overridden the birth control pills the women were taking. He was surprised
that all the women were not pregnant after the sexual activity the camp had
experienced. He was also a father to be, and Valeriya was thrilled at the
prospect of being a mother, even at the age of forty-one.
We were all happy when we returned to Camp Zona 2 the day after the
attack to find that Max Volkov had regained consciousness. Afterward, he
recovered and was able to walk around the camp and give orders about
construction and defense. He regretted that there had been a huge battle and
he had not been there to pull his weight. In his free time, he took on the task
of writing a history of our exploits in a small journal.
My friend Shadow, or Wuleron as he was called by the wolves, came by
with his soldiers and Wooderadd two days after the fight. He let me know
that Sheba and Solomon were being kept on a short leash. He had left four
wolves near the pass to observe their behavior and keep them in line. I
learned that the lions had a long-standing feud with the wolves who ruled
Zona. As a result of a contentious uprising years ago, the lions had been
banished to the high elevations around the rim of the caldera that encircled
Zona.
Wuleron said he needed to go away for many days. Wooderadd was to
stay close to our camp and would respond to my calls if I made them with a
calm mind. Wuleron promised to come back before too long.
Most of us in camp developed a friendship with the old gray wolf
Wooderadd. He especially liked Lada and me, showing us plants we could
use as food. He also explained to us what we could and couldn’t do based on
rules that were passed down from earlier times. Mostly it had to do with a
general rule letting all warm-blooded creatures live unmolested.
***
I renewed my search for Randall and his associates. Wooderadd accompanied
us along the East Creek trail as Irina and I explored farther south. He became
a frequent companion on nearly any trek from camp.
One day we had unusually clear weather beneath high cloud cover. We
followed the creek as it flowed slowly down valley through the forest. The
valley flattened as we walked, the stream forming wider and wider meanders
between grassy banks. Here and there we encountered small marshy areas
filled with irises and lilies. A few of the marshes contained small ponds,
remnants of earlier beaver activity, and a few supporting waves of wild rice.
Irina was in heaven whenever we found new beds of flowers and beautiful
foliage.
We wandered along the creek bank for nearly five miles as it threaded its
way through flat terrain containing marshes and surrounded by tall coniferous
trees. Wooderadd showed us that there were fish in the ponds and even in this
portion of the stream. He demonstrated his ability as a fisherman by sneaking
up on a bank where he threw no shadow and patiently waiting for a fish to
swim by. Then, in an instant, he shot his head into the water and lifted out a
five-pound trout-like fish with shiny reddish scales along its sides. He handed
it to me to examine, and I was impressed.
Holding up the trout in hand, I said, “I dub thee red trout.”
Good food. Wooderadd indicated to me that we could catch these fish for
our supper anytime. He then took the fish back from me and proceeded to
devour it in three gulps. I didn’t know that wolves ate fish.
I spied a small mound that rose above the valley floor. “Let’s climb up
that little hill over there, shall we?” I pointed out a grassy trail that led to the
hill. “Maybe we can see into the valley today.”
“I’m game,” Irina said, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she looked
down the valley. “I’ve never seen the valley center before.”
We hiked over to the low feature with our wolf guide leading the way.
On top we had a pleasant view over the forest to a rocky area a few miles
away. We saw a rock band, a linear outcrop of stone that ran from one side of
the valley to the other and dammed up water behind it as a small lake. We
could not see clearly beyond the rock band, there being too much mist in the
air. I got the impression the valley ran on for some distance past the rocky
barrier.
“Wooderadd, how far does the valley go?” I asked.
He made a low whining sound. Very far. To other side of world. He
looked at me like this was obvious and something I should already know.
“Wow!” Irina said. “I understood that.”
You are learning to understand me. The wolf seemed to smile then let his
tongue loll out of his mouth.
 We enjoyed the view but did not learn anything more about Randall. On
the way back to camp, Irina and I tried our luck at fishing by hand from the
bank of a pond. We each caught one, but the wolf caught three in the same
time and commented, Too slow.
We took the fish back to camp for a welcome change in our dinner menu.
There was fish for everyone, even a sample of cooked fish for the wolf. He
was polite but indicated that he liked it better raw.
***
That evening Irina and I talked to the doctor. He said, “At first I didn’t
understand what was happening to us, but now I have part of it worked out. I
think the hormones in Zona work to make us healthier than we were before.
Consider how you feel now that you are here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Scratches and cuts heal faster than before.”
I looked at him. “I certainly feel healthier and more energetic and . . .
well . . . hornier than usual. Like I was ten years ago.” We all laughed.
“Yes, that is what I mean. I haven’t felt so good in a long time. More
energy, more fit. I have lost nearly twelve pounds and feel like I’m stronger
than I have been in years.”
“Do you think it is just the HGH causing that, Doc?” Irina leaned on me
as she talked.
“Valeriya says she feels mentally sharper than she has been for years. Not
that she is old or anything like that. But I feel it too. Younger.” He stood and
threw his arms out. “I think that something here, the combination of
compounds and foods, is slowing the aging process or reversing it some little
bit.”
I looked at Petrowski and realized he did seem much different from the
man I had met when we first started this trip. He moved with more gusto than
before and was a more cheerful fellow than the man who had sipped his
brandy and muttered about how tired he was at the end of a day’s travel. I had
a more optimistic outlook than a month ago as well.
“Once I asked Wooderadd how old he was.” I sat up straight to speak.
“He said he didn’t know because it wasn’t important to him. He said he had
seen many seasons and moons, but he does not count them. Isn’t that
strange?”
“Maybe to them time doesn’t matter the way it does to humans,” Irina
commented. “We’re always worried about having enough time and how old
we are. Maybe it’s not relevant to them or how they live.” Irina shifted her
weight against my side. “Maybe they don’t worry about age because they are
healthier than we are.”
Petrowski turned to look over at Valeriya, who was resting on the bed
nearby. “What do you think, Val? You have learned to speak to the wolf now
too. What have you learned?”
Val sat up in bed, letting the covers slide partway down her shoulder. She
caressed her skin with her free hand. “My skin is better now than it has been
for some time. I don’t know if it’s because I’m pregnant or because of Zona.
But I do feel very positive about our life here. It is almost like a new home, a
new adventure.”
“Okay, you two lovebirds.” I mocked their obvious amorous intent. “One
last thing before we go. Wooderadd told me they understood the concept of
passing time, but they do not recognize the concept of aging. When pressed,
he said he must have seen at least forty seasons. That is a lot of dog years,
especially for a large animal.”
Irina and I left Petrowski’s quarters and stood outside in the warm
evening air. It was not full dark yet during these long summer days. She
looked lovely in the soothing alpenglow from the tall mountains. “Doc told
me that my pregnancy—actually, everyone’s pregnancy—is moving faster
than he expected, like we were accelerated somehow. He thinks it might have
to do with the hormones in the air. He says Lada and I seem to be on about
the same time line.”
“How do you know that?” I was confused.
“She missed her period about the same time I did. That was about six
weeks ago. We both have many of the same changes happening to our
bodies: swelling breasts, a little morning sickness . . . You know what you’ve
seen.”
We stood there watching nightfall overtake the valley. We didn’t know
what lay ahead for us, but at least we were all together, no matter what might
come.
 CHAPTER 35
August 18

Time passed quickly in Zona. Irina and Kira cataloged many of the plants
within a three-mile range and created extracts of the ones that seemed
interesting for use as possible perfume bases. Irina selected the ones she
thought would be most economically viable, even considering the possibility
of the HGH-like compound having commercial value. She was excited about
her work.
The biologists were enthralled by finding so many new and unusual
species. These were the sort of finds that could make their careers once they
returned to the real world.
Irina was planning for her return home, which seemed to be so far off in
the future. Our original plan was to leave Zona in October when the marshes
froze over. And we could drive across the frozen wastes the same way we
had arrived. There would still be the risk of attack by dire wolves in the
marshlands, but I felt we had a much better understanding of the creatures
now. I thought we might be able to communicate with them and avoid the
fighting altogether.
Volkov had another idea. That was to leave in September before the
ground froze and float across the marshes while they were wet, much as he
had last year. He reasoned that we could make simple flat-bottomed boats
from our supplies and take minimum supplies with us. He thought the wolves
would not attack us in the marshes under those conditions. Once we reached
the storage containers on the far side of the marshes, we could resupply and
drive quickly through the tundra on two large motorized all-terrain vehicles
he had stored inside for emergencies. Since there were fewer of us and less
equipment than on the drive in, the trip would take substantially less time.
***
“I asked Wooderadd if we could negotiate a safe passage with the wolves
who lived in the marshes and the tundra so we could travel back that way in
peace,” I informed Volkov as we sat on a log trying to catch fish for dinner.
“He said he didn’t know if it would be possible. We needed to talk to
Wuleron about such things. Only he could advise us.”
“I asked him much the same thing.” Volkov stopped and tensed up to
strike with his hooked spear at a passing fish. He struck and the fish got
away. “At least I think I did. He seemed confused about why we would want
to leave.” Volkov, squinting in the warm sunlight, looked at me. “Maybe I
asked the wrong question.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, spearing a red trout. “He gave me an odd
answer too. He doesn’t seem to want us to go.”
“Well, I have to say I’ve grown fond of the old wolf.” Volkov prepared
for another strike. “I would miss him. Actually, I would miss this whole
place.” Another lunge with no fish to show for it. “It has become a new home
for me.” He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “And I feel so much . . .
well, younger here. There is not so much for me to look forward to back in
the city.”
I nodded my head and sat back to look around us at the beautiful
landscape. “Irina said the same thing last night. She said this feels like home
to her. So did Lada and Tamara. They all love it here now that we don’t have
to fear the wolves or the lions.”
“How about you?”
“I agree. It all feels so right.” I struggled for the words. “I have never
been as happy as I am now. I’m almost afraid to go back to the real world. It
would be a shock, in a way.”
“And here you can have two beautiful women in your life. In the city that
would be difficult. People would judge you.”
“I’m worried about that. And the children.”
Volkov became quiet as he seemed to reflect on his circumstances. “You
are a lucky man, Grant. At times I wish I had someone too.”
“I thought that you and Yana were getting friendly in the last few
weeks?” I inquired.
“Oh, Yana.” He looked at me like I had said something that made him
uncomfortable. “Oh, I love Yana, that little scamp. But I think of her more as
the daughter I never had.” He then looked concerned. “Oh. You mean . . . No,
no. I don’t think of her like that. She and I just have a lot of fun together. I
think she helped me get through my recovery more easily by spending time
with me.”
Volkov leaned forward slowly with his spear raised as he peered over the
edge of the bank. Then he struck, and in a flash he had a fish on his spear.
“Ha ha!” He flipped it onto the bank and hit it in the head with a stick. “Do
you know that Yana is an excellent fisherwoman? She fishes circles around
me when we go for the day.”
As we gathered up the fish we had caught and began to walk back to
camp, I asked, “So now I must ask you what we will do about our return.
Soon we have to decide on a course of action and prepare for the journey.”
“I understand that the pregnancies are coming along much faster than
usual. Is that right?” he asked. “Everyone is healthy, but the term of
pregnancy may be much shorter than usual, at least compared to the outside
world?”
“Yes, everything is good, but the women are already showing, a month
sooner than anyone expected. The doctor thinks they will deliver in
November at this rate and not in March as normal.” I stopped to reposition
the sack of fish on my shoulder. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Val told me she thinks she might deliver in October already. That would
be a problem if we were crossing the marshes then or even the tundra. It
would also affect the women’s ability to fight if it came about at the wrong
time.” Volkov was always thinking of our security. “I would hate to subject
them to the kind of fear and danger we encountered on the way in here.”
“I don’t think anything would slow Lada down when it comes to
defending herself. She’s unstoppable.”
“That, my friend, is why we have to talk to Wuleron. We need to know if
we can arrange a safe passage with the marsh and tundra dire wolves.”
“And if we don’t? What would we do?” I took Volkov’s arm as he
climbed an embankment.
“Then it might be more prudent to stay here through the winter, which is
supposed to be milder than you would think. Let the babies be born where
they would be safe and healthy. Worry about the outside world later.” He
looked me in the eye with the same expression he had given me when I
agreed to come on this adventure.
“But don’t we have a responsibility to report back to Boris and the
investors? Otherwise they will think we were all killed.”
“Then someone”—Volkov stared off into the distance—“will have to
make the trek out to the world to tell them what happened.”
***
The thought of leaving Zona disturbed me. It was one thing if all of us were
to leave at the same time, all together as we had arrived. But quite another to
consider being torn away from the ones I loved, if indeed they could not
travel until the following year. I knew that Irina and Lada would not bear
such a separation, especially with the children on the way. I didn’t think
anyone else in camp would consider such a thing either. Maxim and Kira
were now inseparable and happily planning for their child’s birth. Petrowski
and Val were very happy here and had brought up the possibility that they
might stay even if the rest of us left. In that case, Kira said she would stay
with them to help care for the baby and for Yana, whom she treated like a
little sister. In short, none of us was ready to leave our little paradise.
The exception to this was Max Volkov. He did not have the close
emotional ties to the other people, except, of course, for Yana and Irina. He
also was burdened by his sense of duty and chagrin at missing the fight with
the lions. Missing that event caused him regret.
Volkov began to think it was his duty to lead any effort to return to the
outside world, even if he returned alone. He had done so once before, he said,
and he could do it again. He’d set up the storage units on the south side of the
marshes with that very thing in mind. He had even brought an inflatable boat
with him this time for the explicit purpose of crossing the marshes.
We had already asked Wooderadd if it would be possible for us to live
here in Zona over the winter, and he indicated it was possible, if we moved to
a lower elevation in the center of the caldera. The climate was milder there,
and food would be plentiful all year round. He seemed happy that we would
consider staying. Wuleron would be pleased.
“Grant,” Volkov said. “The thing that would make all the difference for
me to go it alone would be having some form of safe passage. With that, I
wouldn’t have to worry about fighting off wolves in the tundra and taiga
areas. But without safe passage, I would need a wingman or two to make it
out safely. As a practical matter, that would mean that Maxim and you would
have to accompany me.” He looked at me sadly. “Irina would be very
unhappy with that arrangement, I am sure.”
“I would be unhappy too, but I can’t let you make that dangerous trip
alone. We have to find a better way. I don’t want to leave the women alone
like that.”
Volkov looked pleased with my response. “Then I hope that when
Wuleron comes here this afternoon he can provide the safe passage. If he has
it, then I will go alone, knowing I will be safe from wolf attack.” He stared at
me in a strange, doleful manner. “Besides, I would like to see old Boris
before too long. And someone should take out some samples in order to make
our investors a profit. If they were happy, they would probably pay for my
return next year.” He paused. “To come and retrieve all of you.”
Just then we heard a woof from Wooderadd. Wuleron comes.
I looked across the meadow below our camp and saw three large wolves
running through the tall late-summer grass. Wuleron was in the lead with two
of his soldiers flanking him. They trotted into camp and stopped in front of
the three of us—Volkov, Wooderadd, and me. Others in camp came out to
greet our friend on his arrival.
“Wuleron. It is good to see you again. You have been away many days,”
I said, nodding my head. Wooderadd lowered his head to welcome his leader
as well.
Greetings, my friends. I have good news, Wuleron said in his whining,
woofing way. You will have your safe passage. It has been arranged.
Both Volkov and I looked at each other. The path ahead was now clear.
Volkov said, “Wuleron, we are very grateful for your help. I plan to leave in
a few days.”
Let me show you your safety. Wuleron turned to one of his guards, who
stepped forward to deposit a small parcel on the ground in front of us. Take it.
Volkov bent and picked up the object. It was a leather bundle that folded
closed. Volkov opened the bundle and turned it upside down. A clear stone
the size of a golf ball slid out into his hand. It was absolutely clear, with one
side cleaved to form a smooth facet. He held it to the light, and it shone
brightly, throwing off sharp rays of color as he rotated it.
 “It is beautiful,” Volkov said. “Look at the quality of that surface.” He
turned it in the air. “Wuleron, what do you call this type of stone?”
Starlight. It is only found in one area and is very hard. It is used as the
symbol of my family. He sat on his haunches and rested. Irina brought him a
bowl of water to drink, which he eagerly lapped up. Then she brought water
for his companions.
When you encounter other wolves from the marshland or beyond, show
them this stone. They will know you are my friend and let you pass unharmed.
Volkov replaced the stone in the bag and said, “Wuleron, we thank you.
You are indeed our friend.”
***
Wuleron stayed with us until Volkov began his return journey three days
later. He was impressed that we were all learning elementary wolf tongue,
and he commented that Kira spoke it very well. He also commented that my
wolf tongue left much to be desired, but some young cubs take time to learn
the nuances of the language. He was pleased that we would stay and
commented that Volkov was brave to travel out into the greater world alone.
We all agreed that when Volkov left, Wuleron would send one of his
soldiers to travel with him to the edge of the marsh. Wuleron would stay near
our camp after Volkov left to show me something important. He would not
say what it would be.
During his stay, I inquired from Wooderadd where the starlight came
from, and he said the stones were found in a canyon deep in the main valley
of the caldera. I was curious about the nature of the stone and, as a geologist,
did some tests on it. The first thing I noticed was the orientation of the
cleavage plane on the face, which showed it was a well-formed crystal. I tried
using it to scratch a few common objects like glass, steel, and copper. It
scratched all of them easily. Then I asked to borrow Irina’s simple diamond
pendant she brought with her and was surprised when the stone cut the
diamond. A diamond is generally considered the hardest naturally occurring
gem in nature, so I was puzzled when the starlight turned out to be harder
than the diamond. As far as I knew, only a diamond could scratch another
diamond. So the starlight must be a diamond.
 I didn’t tell the others about the nature of the stone to prevent anyone
from thinking about yet another valuable material here in Zona. If word
spread about Zona’s riches, we could never keep its existence secret. A single
slip of the tongue could bring disaster to this hidden paradise.
 CHAPTER 36
August 21

The day before Volkov left camp to return to the real world, we held a
meeting to decide what Max would tell our partners back in civilization and
what extracts he would take with him. We didn’t want the outside world to
know too much about what we had found in Zona, and we certainly didn’t
want to encourage other explorers to come to this land of unusual lifeforms.
Volkov began the meeting with his thoughts. “I feel that we can trust
Boris with everything we have discovered. I have known him for many years
and trust him with my life, so I don’t believe he would compromise our
findings. The bigger question concerns Novitski and Romashin, our
commercial partners. They may be tempted to share information with others,
especially for marketing purposes. With them, I would limit our information
to the bare essentials.”
Irina took the lead from there. “Kira, Lada, and I agreed that we will send
only two samples out with you. These are plant extracts and the plant tissue
that can be used for two wonderful new perfumes that should make Victor
Romashin an even wealthier man. Two samples would be sufficient incentive
for him to fund another trip here in the future.” She then looked around to see
if any of the other scientists wanted to add to her comments. “We all
contributed to the report.”
“I see,” said Volkov. “And the report you wrote explains these two
samples as the best available, so they won’t think we’re holding out on
them.” He read through the handwritten report of several pages. “Yes . . . I
think this will work well. You say only what is necessary.”
I then spoke up. “We thought that it would be better not to say exactly
where the plants were found and explain that the report must be vague to
prevent industrial espionage from gaining that sort of commercially important
information. It should feed into their corporate vanity to think they have
something so unique. In fact, we don’t even mention the expedition at all.”
“Good, good.” Volkov liked that aspect of the report. “Almost no one
knows there has even been an expedition. Let’s keep it that way.”
 “And we all agree that we don’t want to tell them that there is a natural
substitute for human growth hormone. We can always tell them later and
bring back samples if we wish,” Volkov said.
“We are agreed,” Tamara said, nodding along with the others. “We view
this place as special and don’t want anyone to know about it, at least until we
can make it public in a controlled manner. It could be very damaging to Zona
and our friends here.”
“The last thing we want,” I said, “is for someone to get wind of Zona and
turn it into an adventure travel destination or a commercial project. I imagine
lots of people would want to come here for fun, much less for the healthy
air.” I couldn’t emphasize that point too strongly.
“Very well.” Volkov summarized, “As far as the world knows, there was
no expedition, there were no discoveries except for a few odd plants, and
Zona is just a big icy patch of tundra like the rest of Siberia.”
We all nodded.
“And we can truthfully say that we never found Randall and the others.”
Volkov looked around the room again. “That should close that story. The
cover story of a search and recovery team wandering around the north
looking for last year’s lost expedition will satisfy most agencies and people
as well as give us cover for this expedition.” No one disagreed. “In that case,”
Volkov said, “our meeting is adjourned.”
We broke up into our family groupings. As we walked to our quarters,
Lada said, “I think we made the right decision to let the families know that
their loved ones were killed, even if the story they receive will be distorted as
far as how and where they died. It’s better to think that they died of an
accident in the far north than by being eaten by dire wolves or saber-toothed
lions.”
Tamara, always the good soldier, agreed. “But I wish people could know
what an adventure they had and how well they fought in the end. To die in
obscurity seems a waste of good people’s lives.”
“Well,” I said, “it happens often enough in other careers, like in the
military, if people were killed in a battle or lost on a secret mission. And
Volkov will write our friends that we have gone on to another expedition in
western Siberia to explain why we didn’t return as planned.”
 “I suppose.” Tamara nodded but looked sad. Irina and I both put our arms
around her shoulders. “At least our friends in the outside world will know
we’re okay. Just off on the next mission somewhere else in the frozen north.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind traveling to a warm climate on one of these
made-up adventures. At least my legend would sound more romantic.” She
sniggered.
We threw a party for Volkov that night. He refused more than two drinks
so he could leave early in the morning. I think it was partly so he wouldn’t
become too emotional as well. Wuleron said kind words and wished him
well. The doctor and I made speeches about what a fine leader he was and
how he had held us all together through rough times. Maxim saluted him and
told him it was an honor to serve under his command. All the women kissed
him on the cheeks, and Kira even said they planned to name their child after
him—Max, if a son, or Maxine, if a girl. Of course, that worked with
Maxim’s name as well. Max was pleased nonetheless.
***
We all arose at 4:00 a.m. to see him off. Maxim and I pored over Volkov’s
equipment and supplies with him. One of the last-minute changes we made in
his departure was that, since he was traveling light with a starlight pass and
an escort, he would drive one of the snowmobiles to the marsh instead of
driving the much slower tractor. Maxim and I would accompany him on the
second snowmobile then drive his vehicle back to camp when he entered the
marsh. We agreed that if his snowmobile sat there all winter unattended, it
would be damaged by animals and nature anyway, so we would retrieve it.
Just before Volkov left, Wuleron took him aside to speak to him in wolf
tongue. We could not hear what he said, but Volkov suddenly looked stunned
then burst into a long hearty laugh, and his face lit up with a joy I hadn’t seen
before. He patted Wuleron on his shoulder and beamed with happiness. He
turned and smiled at us all, and at me in particular, nodding his head as
Wuleron finished his thoughts. After he and Wuleron rejoined us, neither of
them would explain what had been said.
Maxim, Volkov, and I left camp on two snowmobiles with one of
Wuleron’s guards running alongside. We crossed Sheba Pass by 7:00 a.m.
and drove quickly across the grasslands toward the marshes at the base of the
150-mile slope of the landscape. Sheba and her forces lay low after their
defeat. The fact that we took a wolf escort kept the other wolves away. We
reached the marshlands in one very long day, surprising our wolf guard with
our speedy travel.
We spent the night with Volkov in a tent. We were all exhausted and fell
asleep almost immediately.
The next morning, Volkov, content with his mission, said goodbye for the
last time. “Grant, I leave the care of these people in your hands. Maxim will
carry on my command for defense purposes, reporting to you.” We all
solemnly shook hands. “Farewell, my friends. I hope to see you next year. Be
well.”
He set off stoically in his inflatable boat, paddling calmly through the
marsh, the starlight for safe passage in a pouch around his neck. We lost sight
of him within minutes in the early morning fog. We wished him a silent
prayer on his way.
Then Maxim and I refueled our snowmobiles and began the long journey
back to the pass and over it to our new home. Our friendly wolf loped along
with us.
***
The next week passed quickly. Irina and the remaining biologists developed a
plan to finish their collections and other studies before the end of the
summer. It seemed like a long time before we would have to consider moving
again, but we knew it would pass quickly.
Our camp was overdesigned for the level of hostile activity we
experienced. We didn’t turn the electric fence on any longer, even at
nighttime. Our use of gasoline and kerosene fell off remarkably. We would
need to conserve it for lighting during the winter. We were told we would not
need to heat our homes, but we were all uncertain about how we would live
for the several months ahead of us.
We held a camp meeting, and I was elected to be our leader for the
foreseeable future, with Maxim as our lead security officer. There wasn’t
much of a role for him except to oversee the armory and weapons that we
now seldom used. He also became our hunter, along with Tamara and
Regina, creating a mild competition to see who could snare or shoot more
game for our meals. Tamara was also in charge of vehicle maintenance,
something Regina helped her with.
I was busy one morning working on my summary of the geology of the
area when I heard Wooderadd announce, Wuleron has arrived. I walked out
to meet him, and Lada prepared three bowls of water for him and the guards
with whom he always traveled.
“Wuleron. It is good to see you again,” I called out as they trotted up to
the gate. “You have arrived just in time for lunch.” I had learned that wolves
relished the concept of a midday snack almost as much as we humans did.
Irina brought out a platter of three freshly killed whole rabbits for our guests.
We estimated that one of these huge bunnies would satisfy even a hungry dire
wolf.
Excellent, my friend. Yes, let’s eat. We are hungry, having come so far.
Then we must go so you can see my surprise.
After the quick meal, Wuleron, his guards, Irina, and I set off down the
valley for what was expected to be a four-hour journey. Wuleron insisted that
Irina come with us but would not explain why. We walked swiftly along East
Creek to the meadows we had been to many times before on our fishing trips.
We continued along the creek, past the warm, sluggish lakes, and through
coniferous forest at the limits of where we had previously traveled. We
approached the small lake that lay just behind the rock band at the end of our
valley. We had never been this far before.
As we walked, I spoke to Wuleron about when we should expect to move
our homes to a lower level in the main valley for the winter. He said we had
plenty of time for the move because the seasons change slowly in Zona. He
said, Everything will be explained soon. And then loped along ahead of us.
Irina came close to me as we walked and whispered, “What’s going on?
Wuleron is so nervous, and he’s being more mysterious than I have ever seen
him behave.”
“I don’t know what he’s planning,” I replied. “Wooderadd said he can’t
say anything, or it would spoil our surprise.” I looked at Wooderadd, who
seemed to smile knowingly back at me.
 “We could not tell you sooner until we knew what sort of humans you
were,” Wooderadd said. “Wuleron’s father insisted that you all be observed
to find out your character.” He stopped to look us in the eyes. “Wuleron told
Volkov about the surprise before he left.”
We came to the small lake behind the rock band and walked on a well-
maintained trail around its shore to a natural rock wall that showed a worn
path up its side. We climbed the rock to a flat area on its far side. For a
moment the light grew brighter as the clouds lifted overhead, and we could
see that East Creek cut through the rock band fifty yards to our left and shot
outward in the air at the head of a tall cliff. It formed a spectacular waterfall
that dropped hundreds of yards down the cliff face into the main valley
below. At the base of the cliff, it formed itself into a stream again and flowed
away into the valley.
The valley. On this clear day, we could see a verdant, wide, round basin
nearly a hundred miles across and long, its shape a remnant from the meteor
impact long ago. It was heavily forested, strewn with meadows and lakes.
Steam rose from natural hot springs, and one lake seemed to be bubbling as
well. This was the source of the mists we were so familiar with. Natural
volcanic heat from geothermal waters provided year-round warmth.
And it was beautiful. Greens of every hue, blue water, white waterfalls on
several sides, where other hanging valleys like our own poured streams and
rivers into the mighty depths. It reminded me of Yosemite Valley as seen
from the top of Bridal Veil Falls, only immensely greater and more lush with
vegetation.
Irina stood on the edge of the rock, admiring the valley, our new home.
She looked as beautiful and slender as ever, except for her pregnant belly,
and turned to beam at me, her emerald eyes bright with joy, her red mane
drifting lightly in the breeze. I put my arms around her. She smiled and put
her hands on mine. “Our baby will be born here, and we will love it all.”
We stayed like that for a minute, looking out at the new world we would
learn to love. Below us we saw a flash of white fur as Wuleron trotted along
the trail ahead. He looked up at us and barked joyfully to follow. We looked
ahead of him and saw that the trail led out to a somewhat lower ledge.
We saw Wuleron come onto the ledge and stand next to three humans, a
man with reddish-brown hair, a tall blond woman, and a small child. The man
reached over and rested his hand on Wuleron’s shoulder in friendship as they
all looked out over the valley.
Irina and I looked at each other then, hand in hand, ran down the trail. We
arrived at the ledge and approached the people from behind, Wooderadd
announcing our arrival with a woof.
The woman and child turned to greet us, smiling broadly with friendly
eyes. She stepped forward, hand extended initially, then gave me a warm
embrace and said, “I am Veruschka, and this is my son, Grant . . . Yes, the
same name as you.” She smiled. “Prince Wuleron said you would come, and
we are pleased to meet you after hearing about you for so long.” She then
turned to the man, who was still laughing at something Wuleron had said in
wolf tongue. She waved her hand at the man’s back, then said, “My
husband.”
As if on cue, the man turned our way, as did Wuleron, smiling as wolves
often do. The man had the familiar features I hadn’t seen in many months,
now younger looking than I recalled, his reddish-brown beard and warm gray
eyes still jovial as always. My eyes betrayed me, and tears began to flow.
Both Irina and I were overcome with emotion.
“Uncle Randall, you are alive!”
He came forward and enclosed me in a huge bear hug.
“Grant, I’m glad you finally made it on one of my expeditions.” Randall
and I hugged warmly as Irina and Veruschka did the same. Little Grant came
to hug them both.
Randall held me tight and whispered, “Did you find my clues in the
journal? There is so much more to tell.”
Then he laughed, and I realized that after all this time, Uncle Randall still
thrived on adventure.
 About the Author
Fred G. Baker is a hydrologist, historian, and writer living in Colorado. He is
the author of An Imperfect Crime and the Modern Pirate Series of short and
long stories. He is also the author of nonfiction works such as Growing Up
Wisconsin, The Life and Times of Con James Baker and The Light from a
Thousand Campfires (with Hannah Pavlik).

***

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