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(Working Title: ) The Fear Machine
Kholat Syakhl, Sverdlovsk Oblast , USSR, Evening of February 2nd, 1959
Igor sighed as he shifted a bit in his sleeping bag. It was full dark, had been for hours, but he could not seem to fall alseep. Come on, he grumbled to himself. You’ve got a full day ahead of you tomorrow – we’re so close!
He shifted again, grimacing, over to his other side. Outside, the wind whistled, a high, keening wail. So noisy up here tonight. Creepy. No wonder they call this the ‘Dead Mountain’…
With an inarticulate huff, Igor rolled over yet again, flopping on his back. Dammit! Gritting his teeth, he glared up through the darkness. Why am I so nervous?! I wonder if the others are as creeped out as I am ab-
Igor’s body jerked, his back arching as something slammed into him, a soundless flash brighter than full day lighting up the tent above him—
Then he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound—
Igor Alekseievich Dyatlov thought no more, merely thrashed mindlessly in terror, tightly wrapped in his collapsed tent, before somehow fighting his way free, then scrambling to his feet and lurching away across the snow.
He didn’t even notice his fellow campers trying desperately to do the same thing.
* * *
Vizhai, Sverdlovsk Oblast , USSR, February 18th, 1959
Abram Georgyovitch Kargin leaned forward on the desk, the phone crammed up against his right ear as he tapped off the ash on his cigarette. “No, we still have not heard from them. We last saw them January 27th. No, wait – someone told me that one of them got sick and returned the day after. Yudin, yes…”
He sighed. “No, that is not very favorable, given the time of year…” He paused to listen, then added, “We can offer some supplies for the searchers….yes…”
He bade his farewell and hung up, staring gloomily out the window across the room from his desk. Outside, white reigned, broken by intermittant wooden cabins.
He blinked as two figures appeared, making their way down the street outside. The man was tall, and silver-haired, but didn’t look very warmly-dressed – not even a hat. The shorter brunette woman at his side was wearing a fur-trimmed parka wth the hood up, at least.
Shrugging inwardly, Kargin turned his attention back to the necessary preparations for the imminent arrival of the UPI group who would soon be searching for their overdue classmates.
----end fragment--------
Not much else I can do at the moment without taking the time to watch some of the documentaries about this event... dunno if I'll be motivated enough to search out any books for accuracy's sake. Could sketch out some of the Dramatic Scenes, though...
Kholat Syakhl, Sverdlovsk Oblast , USSR, Evening of February 2nd, 1959
Igor sighed as he shifted a bit in his sleeping bag. It was full dark, had been for hours, but he could not seem to fall alseep. Come on, he grumbled to himself. You’ve got a full day ahead of you tomorrow – we’re so close!
He shifted again, grimacing, over to his other side. Outside, the wind whistled, a high, keening wail. So noisy up here tonight. Creepy. No wonder they call this the ‘Dead Mountain’…
With an inarticulate huff, Igor rolled over yet again, flopping on his back. Dammit! Gritting his teeth, he glared up through the darkness. Why am I so nervous?! I wonder if the others are as creeped out as I am ab-
Igor’s body jerked, his back arching as something slammed into him, a soundless flash brighter than full day lighting up the tent above him—
Then he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound—
Igor Alekseievich Dyatlov thought no more, merely thrashed mindlessly in terror, tightly wrapped in his collapsed tent, before somehow fighting his way free, then scrambling to his feet and lurching away across the snow.
He didn’t even notice his fellow campers trying desperately to do the same thing.
* * *
Vizhai, Sverdlovsk Oblast , USSR, February 18th, 1959
Abram Georgyovitch Kargin leaned forward on the desk, the phone crammed up against his right ear as he tapped off the ash on his cigarette. “No, we still have not heard from them. We last saw them January 27th. No, wait – someone told me that one of them got sick and returned the day after. Yudin, yes…”
He sighed. “No, that is not very favorable, given the time of year…” He paused to listen, then added, “We can offer some supplies for the searchers….yes…”
He bade his farewell and hung up, staring gloomily out the window across the room from his desk. Outside, white reigned, broken by intermittant wooden cabins.
He blinked as two figures appeared, making their way down the street outside. The man was tall, and silver-haired, but didn’t look very warmly-dressed – not even a hat. The shorter brunette woman at his side was wearing a fur-trimmed parka wth the hood up, at least.
Shrugging inwardly, Kargin turned his attention back to the necessary preparations for the imminent arrival of the UPI group who would soon be searching for their overdue classmates.
----end fragment--------
Not much else I can do at the moment without taking the time to watch some of the documentaries about this event... dunno if I'll be motivated enough to search out any books for accuracy's sake. Could sketch out some of the Dramatic Scenes, though...