answer spawned a dozen new questions, but now he had a clear purpose.
There was no time to waste. He retrieved a large backpack and methodically began packing for the journey, as if preparing for an expedition into the past. Warm clothes, sleeping bag, flashlight, provisions, first aid kit – everything arranged with military precision. Most important were Dyatlov’s diary and documents, carefully sealed in a waterproof bag. These yellowed pages now seemed more precious than any treasure.
He studied the area map like an ancient manuscript, trying to discern secret signs left by his predecessors behind the contour lines.
As he prepared for departure, he suddenly felt someone watching. Looking out the window, he spotted a black car lurking in the shadows of the building across the street. Surveillance? Possibly. But who?
He needed to act carefully. The apartment’s back exit led him to the courtyard, where a taxi took him to the station via a circuitous route. Just in case.
Buying his ticket to Ivdel, he noticed a man with a red beard. The stranger watched him openly, and when their eyes met, Maxim was struck by a sharp sense of recognition – he had seen this face in one of his visions of the past.
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The train carried him east for almost two days. Snow-covered Ural peaks drifted past the window as Maxim tried to piece together the puzzle from fragments of information. He sensed that somewhere among these ancient mountains lay a secret capable of transforming humanity’s understanding of reality.
Ivdel greeted him with biting cold. The wooden station building, snow-laden firs – it seemed nothing had changed here in sixty years.
Suddenly reality wavered before his eyes. In a rushing vision, he saw them – young, vibrant hikers, talking animatedly on this very platform. Dyatlov, his companions… The vision vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
When the world regained clarity, Maxim noticed an elderly man watching him intently. Something in his gaze felt hauntingly familiar, like an echo from the past.
“Looking for answers about the pass?” The old man’s quiet voice sounded unexpectedly close. It carried a strange mixture of wariness and relief.
Maxim tensed but nodded. Something about the stranger inspired trust.
“Nikolai Ivanovich,” the old man introduced himself. “I was in the search party. Looking for Dyatlov’s group. And what we found there…” he glanced around, “Come with me. This isn’t the place for such conversations.”
The small café near the station smelled of coffee and damp. Over cups of scalding tea, Nikolai Ivanovich began his story, and with each word, the reality around Maxim became increasingly unstable.
“They ordered us to stay silent about what we saw. We were supposed to forget everything, as if nothing had happened. But how can you forget something that leaves a mark on your soul?”
Maxim listened, afraid to miss a single word. The old rescuer’s account supported his boldest theories – about the events of those years and the strange phenomena on Kholat Syakhl.
“But most importantly,” Nikolai Ivanovich lowered his voice almost to a whisper, “next to the bodies we found a strange device. Like a radio, but… different. And a note…”
The door bell jingled. Two men entered the café – their military bearing unmistakable. Nikolai Ivanovich abruptly cut off his story.
“We need to go,” he said, rising. “Tomorrow at noon. The old sawmill by the weather station. I’ll show you something… What I’ve kept all these years.”
They slipped out through the café’s back door into the frozen night. In his hotel room, insomnia awaited Maxim. In his fitful half-sleep, he saw fiery spheres hovering above mountains, heard shouts in an unfamiliar language, felt reality itself coming apart at the seams.
Chapter 4 – Escape into the Unknown
The frosty winter morning found Maxim in his hotel room, preparing for his meeting with Nikolai Ivanovich. The black car still lurked below – its familiar silhouette reflected in the frost-covered window. There was no time to waste.
Grabbing his backpack, Maxim silently descended the fire escape. He knew that somewhere there, in the old sawmill, answers awaited that could turn the world upside down.
The abandoned building emerged from the morning fog like an ominous specter. Tall pines surrounded it in tight formation, like silent sentries. Nikolai Ivanovich was already waiting at the half-collapsed entrance.
“Quickly,” the old man’s voice was barely audible. “They might be close.”
Inside, the air smelled of rotting wood and time. Beneath a pile of old boards lay an expertly concealed safe. Nikolai Ivanovich’s hands trembled as he opened it.
“Here,” the old man exhaled. “I’ve kept this for sixty years.”
Inside the safe lay a worn folder and a strange metallic object. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary radio, but something about it seemed alien, wrong.
“We found this next to the bodies,” Nikolai Ivanovich spoke quietly, as if afraid the walls might hear. “And in the folder – documents about the second group. And Dyatlov’s notes that they ordered us to burn.”
Maxim picked up the device – it was unexpectedly light. The metal emitted a barely perceptible vibration, as if some alien energy pulsed within.
“And something else,” Nikolai Ivanovich’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Near where the second group died, they found a body in a spacesuit. A living body.”
Maxim froze.
“Living?”
“Yes. But the military took it almost immediately. It only managed to say a few words – in a language no one knew. Except for one word. Kholat Syakhl.”
At that moment, the device in Maxim’s hands came alive. Glowing symbols raced across its surface, and strange sounds emerged from its speaker – like distorted human speech passed through an unknown filter.
“Lord above,” Nikolai Ivanovich breathed. “In all these years, it never…”
Maxim felt the metal pulsing beneath his fingers like something alive. He held in his hands not just the key to the pass’s mystery, but to something incomparably greater.
The sound of approaching vehicles shattered the silence.
“Go,” Nikolai Ivanovich pushed him toward a far door. “Quickly. I’ll hold them off – won’t be my first time.” The old man darted to a corner of the sawmill and pulled a pair of hunting skis from under a tarpaulin. “Take these. You won’t get far in the winter forest without them. Behind that door is a trail into the mountains. Head for Kholat Syakhl – that’s where the answers wait.”
Maxim stuffed the device and documents into his backpack and shouldered the skis. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. I know how to talk to people like them. Now go!”
After a firm handshake with the old searcher, Maxim plunged through the indicated door. Behind him, the growing roar of engines, the thunder of opening doors, and sharp voices violated the winter forest’s silence.
He ran along the snow-covered trail, each step carrying him further from the familiar world. In his backpack, the strange device hummed quietly, counting out his heartbeats. Ahead, among the stern Ural peaks, waited a mystery that had kept its silence for more than half a century. There was no turning back now.
Chapter 5 – On the Threshold of the Unknown
Maxim ventured deeper into the forest, leaving the sawmill and sounds of pursuit far behind. The frigid air burned his lungs, and