Page 91 of Stars
Kilaqqi sat on the edge of the helo, legs dangling out the open cargo door, face wrapped in a wool scarf. He stared over the brutal expanse beneath them: the mountains that seemed like their tops had been sawed off, the scrub tundra forests, and the pitch-black lakes, like night had fallen to the Earth and slumbered between the mountain ranges.
The helo buzzed the mountains close enough to jump out and survive if they had to. If Jack stretched his leg out, maybe his toes would reach the windswept snowdrifts collecting on the edges of the plateaus. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness rolled through him. They banked, turned, and circled over one of the thousands of flat peaks they’d already passed.
“We are here,” Kilaqqi shouted over the roar of the rotors. “Come with me.”
Jack tumbled out first, his legs creaking as he forced them to move again. His thighs ached, angry at the cold and the wind and the freezing helo they’d been stuffed inside for over an hour. Behind him, Ethan, Welby, Pete, and Blake followed, varying degrees of freezing cold and pissed off. Welby had traded his fedora for a furry ushanka, while Pete and Blake were still sporting their watch caps, pulled as low as they could to cover their ears. Their jackets were zipped up over their noses, leaving only a narrow strip of face and eyes visible. Jack nodded to everyone, a silent check-in. They nodded back.
Jack turned and trudged after Kilaqqi toward the edge of the plateau.
Siberia had turned on them again. Now they were at the end of the world. Literally.
Russia’s Putoransky State Nature Reserve was the country’s largest expanses of protected wildlife, a wedge of northern Siberia that knifed down out of the Arctic. Long ago, the land had belonged to the Evenki, Kilaqqi’s people. Now, only animals were allowed to roam the desolate rock- and larch-studded wilderness.
He stumbled after Kilaqqi, bracing himself against the winds, and followed the tribal elder down a scree slope. How many of Russia’s federal laws were they violating now? How many decades in the gulags was he signing them up for, if they were caught?
As soon as he dipped below the edge of the shorn mountaintop and into one of the thousands of canyons, the winds died, buffered by the Siberian larch growing wild and choking the valleys. Beneath the snow-dappled branches, verdant greenery exploded. Tundra scrub and dwarf pine grew in abundance, rising out of soft, fluffy, almost black soil. The air was still crisp, so sharp it seemed on the verge of shattering. Away from the howl and scream of the wind, the world fell silent, an all-encompassing kind of quiet that made Jack’s ears ring.
Kilaqqi strode ahead, moving through the brush. What could be out here, Jack didn’t know, and Kilaqqi had given them no hints other than to say they were going to see General Sevastyanov’s life’s meaning. Jack followed, trying to push through the burn in his quads and catch up with the older man.
Jack stumbled on a larch root rising from the dirt. He twisted, hop-stepped, and found his footing, but almost bumped into Kilaqqi. Kilaqqi had stopped, pulling back a leafy branch and exposing a small clearing beside an obsidian pond, as still as a black mirror or the velvet of space. In the center of the clearing sat a cabin, something old and handmade and rotten on the edges. The roof was made of thatch, the walls downed tree trunks. It looked bleak, and cold.
Ethan appeared at Jack’s side, one arm over Jack’s chest to hold him back. “Wait.”
“Bodies,” Pete blurted out, behind Jack. “Over there.” He pointed to the side of the pond and then the trees behind the house.
A moment later, Welby and Ethan had their binos up and were scouring the clearing and the cabin. Their heads moved in unison. Jack could tell the moment they confirmed Pete’s find: they unzipped their jackets and clenched their slung rifles, bringing them up and ready as Pete slid between Kilaqqi and Jack.
“Those are my people,” Kilaqqi rumbled. “They were guarding this place. As you can see, they were murdered.”
“Why have you left them there?” Jack asked.
“What dies here remains here. Forever. Nothing is supposed to leave this place.”
Jack glanced at Ethan. Ethan frowned. “Then why arewehere?” Jack asked again. “What did you bring us out here for?”
“You have to see. You have to understand.”
“Understand what?” Ethan snapped. “Who killed your men, and are they still around?” Jack saw Ethan’s eyes flick over the forest, dart between the shadows and the trees. Threats loomed behind every branch and snowdrift.
“They are long gone. They took what they wanted and left.” Kilaqqi pushed past Jack and padded into the clearing. “Come. See for yourself.”
As Jack stepped forward, Ethan and Welby fell into step in front of him, Pete and Blake behind him, creating a bubble that wrapped him in 360 degrees of armed protection. Pete and Blake had their pistols out, holding them low and scanning the forest.
Jack peered at Kilaqqi’s fallen men. Two bodies on the edge of the obsidian pond had exit wounds through their backs as big as grapefruits, torn skin and exploding muscles weeping out. Their blood had long since dried and turned to a frozen ruby mirror that covered the dirt. In the chill, the bodies looked like they’d only just been shot.
As they neared the cabin, Jack laid a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan grumbled, but he relaxed, fractionally, dropping his ready position and easing out of Jack’s shadow. Welby followed, giving Jack breathing room.
Kilaqqi waited at the open door. “All you need is to look.”
Jack followed, holding Kilaqqi’s gaze as he moved to the doorway, a rectangle of darkness carved in the cabin. His palm was slick and warm as he took his flashlight out of his pocket.
Kilaqqi’s hand on Jack’s arm stilled him and made Ethan and Welby raise their weapons again. “Do not enter this place, or you will never leave,” Kilaqqi said softly. He let go and stepped back.
Jack powered on his flashlight and stood in the doorway. The cabin was small, one room, and the light illuminated nearly every corner of the cramped space.
“Oh my God,” Jack breathed.
* * *
