Chernobyl Werewolf (Team Greywolf 3)
Page 38
The sound of agitated yaks drew her attention and she turned.
People ran in all directions, screaming and shouting.
Huh?
Her eyes widened. Yak stampede!
Rachel dropped the soup and dashed away from the maddened beasts as they slammed into people and vendor tables, ignoring men trying to round them up. She headed toward the lodge. During the chaos, she might have time to grab her suitcase and get out.
Rachel skidded to a stop. Shit.
The old bearded man with his men stood in front of the lodge.
She ran toward the trail loop.
A few hikers were ahead. Safety in numbers. Or at least witnesses if she joined them. Once the yaks were rounded up, she’d head back to the market.
Suddenly, a big man grabbed her from behind and lifted her in the air and muffled her mouth. “Scream and I’ll cut your throat.”
He dragged her into the wilderness. Like a predator hauling away his prey.
After he gained more distance from the popular hiking trail, the big man dropped Rachel. She stumbled, catching her footing for a moment, before he shoved her forward. “Move.”
“Wait, why are we going up not down?”
“Our helicopter will return once the clouds clear.”
Our? “Aren’t you staying in town?”
“We are camping.”
Okay, that’s hardcore. He only wore a light coat. The kind worn on evening outing in a temperate climate. She was bundled in winter gear, but not for overnight freezing conditions. “Seriously.” If he doesn’t kill me outright, hypothermia will.
“Don’t worry, little one, we will not harm you if you cooperate.”
Little one? Seriously? “You have me mistaken for someone else.”
“Rachel Becker, correct?”
She stiffened.
“Dr. Rachel Becker.”
“Titles are of no importance.”
“And you are?”
“Not important. At least not as important as you.”
“Me important, why?”
“No more talking,” he snapped in what sounded more like a growl. He hauled her over his shoulder and ran like a marathon runner up a ridge that would have exhausted just about any athlete. He must have been here for a while to acclimate to the atmosphere.
What the fuck! He dashed above the typical casual tourist hiking area. Up toward and into the elite rock climber’s territory. Snow covered. Without ropes. Not good. The wind howled and snow whipped around her face and the visibility grew to zero.
Without being out of breath or even a wheeze, he arrived at the top, at least several miles above Namche. Halfway up Everest? A few men stood in front of a cavern. Not the men she had seen back at the lodge, but like her abductor bigger and not wearing heavy winter gear.
The man set her down. Being carried upside down, the elevation proved too much. Dizzy, she glanced around, but her vision blurred and then...