The others quickly noticed the door. Everyone stood motionless and silent. Sokolov held up a hand in the universal ‘stop’ position and moved toward the shed. He peered inside, cautiously. Then he moved through the doorway and left their field of view. He reappeared momentarily and waved for them to approach.
“What happened?” Hamlin yelled.
“Bring him in. He’s too heavy for you to manage much longer.”
They did, all curious as to what they would find but also eager to be relieved of Kuvayev’s weight. They laid him down gently under Sokolov’s direction and then looked around. The heavy nylon bag, as well as the other material that Pechkin had been encased in, lay torn and strewn around the room.
Hamlin was stunned. “I thought there weren’t any large predators down here.”
Sokolov stood musing. “There aren’t.”
“Should we try to find his body?” one of the drillers asked.
Sokolov still didn’t seem to have this figured out.
“Let us return to the shelter of our quarters. We can give this further thought from there.”
The door, upon closer examination, did have some damage. Two of the crew volunteered to return and make repairs. Everyone’s focus was now split between keeping Kuvayev secure and finding out what happened to Pechkin. If it wasn’t for the cold, they certainly would have stayed and investigated the site more thoroughly.
Instead, they returned to quarters, tersely passed on the information about Pechkin to the others, and sat down to tea and an impromptu session to determine what had just happened at the shed.
“I am at a loss,” Sokolov said. “There are no bears or wolves down here; nothing that would have the size and strength to break into the shed. The door might not look like much, but it is of heavy construction and so are the hinges and the latch.”
“What is the largest animal down here?” one of the remaining drillers asked.
“On land? In the vicinity of this station?” Sokolov pondered. “There is really nothing. Penguins would be the largest land predator and they aren’t within three hundred miles of this place. They wouldn’t be breaking down the door, regardless.”
“So what happened? How could you explain it?” Konstantine asked.
“I must apologize, but at the moment I can’t.”
The room grew silent.
“You’ve never had an incident like this before?” Hamlin asked. “Never any scratch marks on the doors or bumps in the night?”
Sokolov shook his head. “No. There are no monsters in Vostok. It is too cold, even for them. We are quite alone here.”
They all pondered the implications.
“There is one large predator down here. Us.”
Hamlin was relieved that one of the original crew said it before he did. No doubt they were all thinking it at this point.
“Of course,” Sokolov said. “But I must reject the implication. If it was one of us, then why didn’t that person simply open the door to gain access? It wasn’t locked. And who among us is strong enough to force it open without acquiring any visible signs of injury or physical duress? Besides, we all know where each other is at all times. It would be impossible to go outside without drawing attention to yourself. And at the end of it all, why would you?”
They all pondered his words. Nobody knew that there was a very subtle sensor on the door that sounded a small alarm in Sokolov’s room when it opened.
“I say we should look for him!” one of the drillers exclaimed. “His body can’t be far. What will we tell his family if we lose him up here? Let two of us take the Cat and do a search.”
It was unusual in Francis’ experience for any of the crew to confront Sokolov in any regard, even with a demand such as this. There was obviously a strong emotional attachment motivating them.
Sokolov nodded. “Very well. But I must insist on some parameters. I don’t want you driving halfway across the continent. Perhaps we could lay out a simple grid search. The GPS will allow you to follow it easily. One person drives—the other acts as the lookout. If you find anything, call back here to the station before getting out of the Cat. I cannot tolerate any more injuries or accidents. Preservation has taken on new significance. Now, rather than having a volunteer riot, let me choose two of his closest comrades to do the search. Hmm, Barinov and Yedemsky, you two can suit up and go out if you wish. We will draw up a search plan while you prepare.”
The grid was based on a one square kilometer area with the station as its center. No one could imagine that it was possible for his body to get moved further than that in the cold, regardless of how it happened. It was an acceptable starting point at any rate.
Zhabin and Kravchuk, the two door repair volunteers, had just returned to the shed. They looked at the door with a technical eye. Exactly what repairs were needed here?
“The hinges are fine,” Kravchuk noted. “It is just the latch that is damaged.”
Zhabin quickly agreed. “Da. But look at the frame. It has been pushed out here too. We will have to move the mechanism up slightly and put in a new latch.”
Kravchuk was silent. His hand found its way onto Zhabin’s shoulder.
“What is it?”
“It was pushed out from the inside.”
Zhabin stood upright. He hadn’t previously considered the implications. “That’s not possible.”
They both spent some a few minutes examining the interior of the shed. Apart from the shredded cover, everything looked normal.
“Look,” Zhabin said, “I don’t know what happened, but we need to secure this door and we need to do it now. We will be too cold to function if we don’t get started. What do you say?”
Kravchuk was still clearly bothered by this disturbing revelation. But he was also aware of the realities of working in extreme cold.
“You’re right, of course. Let’s get this done. We’ll have to report this when we get back.”
“To all the others?”
“No.” He pulled a small box out of his large pocket and fumbled through it for a suitable screw. “Just Sokolov. He can dispense the message if he chooses.”
Kravchuk nodded. “Very well. He gets paid to worry about these things.” He looked around furtively. “Let’s get this done. I’m starting to feel creeped out.”
The Cat was topped up with fuel before the search began. Twenty-five gallons of diesel would keep them going for all the time needed to search the grid. The heater still worked fine, and it was immediately turned to the maximum setting.
As they roared away from the camp, Barinov pulled off his mitts and spread the grid sheet out across his knees.
“Give me a moment, please. Let me plot the coordinates in.”
Barinov, the oldest member of the entire crew at fifty-eight, was also the gruffest. The others simply ignored his rough edges. And it could have been worse. He never really lost his temper—it seemed that the continuous venting of frustration and anger kept him in a constant state of mild annoyance, but never anything more serious than that. He was also a marvel when working on the drilling rig. The others found it hard to imagine being functional without him there to help with repairs and to proactively find issues before they became major breakdowns.
“There. That should do it. Let’s go.”
Yedemsky started the Cat rolling out into the white unknown. The GPS was a lifesaver down here. Even this fine machine couldn’t keep them from getting lost without some navigational assistance. A compass made a decent backup instrument, but the electronic screen mounted on the dashboard gave them pinpoint accuracy as they began to search.
“The wind has covered any tracks,” Yedemsky observed.
“And why wouldn’t it?” Barinov growled. “It blows constantly in this God-forsaken place. Did you bring anything to drink?”