Page 12 of Dead Mountain

Sharp leaned back in his chair, sipped his coffee, and began to tell the story in much the same manner as a camp counselor might spin a ghost story around a campfire, a faint, laconic smile playing on his face.

“The year was 2008,” he began. “Nine grad students in the engineering department at the New Mexico Institute of Technology took a Hallowe’en backpacking trip into the Manzano Mountains. They left on October 27 and planned to hike south to north following the spine of the mountains. Their return date was set for November 3. They chose that high-country route because, as far as anyone could tell, no one had done it before. The students belonged to an outdoor hiking and wilderness club at the university, and they were all highly experienced backpackers and mountaineers. They were well aware that in late October, sudden snowstorms or other extreme weather might occur at that altitude—and they came prepared. There was no cell coverage anywhere in the Manzanos back then, or even today, and they knew they’d be cut off during the week they’d be gone.

“They were to report in to the head of the wilderness club on their return, but November 3 came and went without a word. There had been a snowstorm in the Manzanos on Hallowe’en into Hallowe’en night, so it was initially assumed they’d gotten snowed in and delayed. Nobody was particularly worried, because they’d all had a great deal of snow-camping experience. But by the afternoon on November 4, that began to change. The mother of one of the campers started to raise hell, the other families got into the act, and search and rescue parties were organized. The New Mexico State Police coordinated all search and rescue operations in the state, and on November 5 they put two birds in the air to survey the high Manzano ridges. The hiking club at the university also put together a search.

“On November 6, one of the helicopters spied the hikers’ tent, partly buried in snow. They sent a ground team up there in snowmobiles.”

Here Sharp paused to take another sip of coffee.

“What did they find?” Corrie asked after a moment.

“Something utterly bizarre.” He looked at his empty cup. “Want a refill?”

“No. No.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Corrie watched Sharp as he casually walked over to the coffee machine. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed he’d staged this interruption deliberately.

“The tent had been set up on one of the highest ridges in the Manzanos,” he said as he sat down again. “Above the tree line, just below the summit of Shaggy Peak. The tent had been dug into the snow in the wind shadow of the peak. The snowstorm struck around noon on October 31, and the snow had accumulated significantly by the time they camped.

“The tent was only partially collapsed from the snow. It was of a large backpacking design and weighed around thirty pounds, with a zippered front and back door. The snowshoes of the entire party were found neatly stacked next to the tent. Photographs show the front door was unzippered and open. The back door was not. There was no sign of the nine hikers.

“When the rescue party looked inside, they found everything to be in good order. Hiking boots were lined up inside the vestibule of the front door. Packs were laid out along one side. Sleeping bags were all unrolled on their mats. A small stove stood in the vestibule, apparently left on, a pot of burned food upon it. Plates of half-eaten food were found abandoned mid-meal. A later inventory discovered that only two things of importance were missing. The first was a camera and film carried by one of the hikers, who was an avid photographer and the person assigned to chronicling the trip. The second was the group’s expedition journal.”

Sharp paused to sip his coffee. Corrie realized she was still holding a small arc of her donut, and quickly popped it in her mouth.

“I mentioned that the front of the tent was unzipped and open. However, the side of the tent had been slashed open—slashes that went through both the inner tent and the fly. A careful examination showed they had been made from the inside. Further investigation revealed footprints leading away from the tent. The prints made it clear that most of the hikers were barefoot or wearing socks. One seemed to be wearing both boots; another had on a single boot with a sock on the other foot; a few had on the felt footwear known as valenkis.”

Sharp looked down at his cup. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

“I’ll say. Sounds crazy. Did an investigation determine the temperature and conditions outside when the students left the tent?”

“It was ten degrees below zero, the blizzard was at its height, and the wind was gusting to forty to fifty miles an hour.”

“Going out in that weather barefoot would be suicide.”

“It would be. And it was.”

“Why did they do it?”

“An excellent question. Why do you think?”

As Corrie looked at Sharp—head still down, watching the coffee swirl languidly in his cup—she suddenly realized he had turned this into a forensic challenge of sorts. The story was riveting, and Sharp was a skillful storyteller.

“The front door of the tent was unzipped, but they nevertheless cut their way out the side?”

Sharp nodded.

“The front entrance must have been blocked—by someone or something. What about prints?”

“The search and rescue team trampled all around the tent before anyone had the sense to rope it off and take photos. But beyond the immediate area, prints made it clear that the hikers had run downhill into a deep thicket of small fir trees about a mile from the tent, in the center of which was a tall cedar. Beneath the cedar they found the remains of a fire, and around this fire were three of the hikers—frozen solid. In addition to lacking boots, they were wearing only underwear and T-shirts. All three had burns on their legs and feet—one had the right side of his head scorched and his hair singed. Searchers also noticed there were freshly broken branches on the trunk of the cedar, about ten feet from the ground. On closer examination they found pieces of human skin scraped on the bark.”

“Someone had climbed it to break branches off for firewood,” said Corrie.

“So it would seem. In any case, shortly thereafter, a searcher managed to find a female body about a quarter mile beyond the campfire, heading along the northward ridge. The autopsy showed she had died of exposure and was wearing clothes cut from one of the other bodies.

“In any case, winter had already closed in pretty fiercely by then, and though the search continued by air, with dogs, and by ski and snowmobile, no more bodies were found. When it became obvious nobody could have survived, the search was suspended until spring.

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