Dead Summit (Book 1): Dead Summit

by Loubier, Daniel

  He reached the door only to find her curled up in the same corner of the room. She sat still. Her head rested on its side in her arms; her eyes looked isolated and disoriented as she stared past him.

  Please God, no, he thought. He crouched by her side. Not knowing what to do or say, he simply reached out and held her. He didn’t see any injuries. No blood (none that was her own, anyway). She was in a trance.

  “Please stay with me, Grace,” he said. His voice trembled as he began to sob. “I’ll never leave you again.” Like a new parent caressing an infant to sleep, he rocked back and forth with Grace in his arms.

  As he let his mind drift away from the macabre scene in the room and in the hallway, he suddenly became very aware of the silence around them. The quiet was haunting and calming at the same time. He was aware that a scream or a shout could break the silence at any moment, but he allowed himself to find peace in it, if only for five seconds. Inside, he willed it to be an eternity.

  Chapter 7

  Grace blinked. Daylight filled the room. Disoriented, she looked around and took stock of her surroundings. She recognized the room. They had spent the night here. She looked to her right; Charlie’s head rested on her shoulder, and his arms were wrapped around her body. Why were they sitting in the corner of the room on the floor when they had a bed to sleep in?

  And then she saw it. In front of her, lying on the floor and bathed in blood, a man was dead.

  In an instant, it all came flooding back into her memory. She remembered being chased into the room by a madman covered in human blood. She remembered gunshots in the bedroom. She remembered pulling the trigger herself. She had awoken to the same nightmare from which she thought she had escaped.

  And then she remembered the little girl in the bathroom, Caitlin.

  “Charlie,” she said. Her mouth was dry. She tried swallowing before speaking again but it felt like sandpaper scraping and scratching her throat. “Charlie,” she said again. This time she nudged him with her right arm and knee. “Where’s Caitlin?”

  Charlie lifted his head, looked at Grace. His eyes were bloodshot. “Who’s Caitlin?” he asked.

  “The little girl in the bathroom. I have to go back for her.”

  As she tried to stand, Charlie stood with her but didn’t let her go. “I couldn’t save her,” he said.

  Grace’s eyes filled with tears. The pain of defeat crawled back into her body once more. “I promised her,” Grace said. “What happened?”

  She studied Charlie’s eyes as he fought for an answer. She could tell something was wrong, but she couldn’t get a clear read from his expression.

  “She was already dead, Grace.” He nodded to the body on the floor. “He might have gotten to her before you went to the bathroom. She was probably already dying by the time you spoke to her. I found her dead out in the hall. Terry got attacked, too, but I didn’t see who it was.”

  Grace shook her head as she cried. Charlie reached an arm around her and caressed her face with his other hand.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said. “We have to leave now.”

  Grace looked up at him. There was despair in her eyes. “Where are we going to go?”

  “We’ll go to the summit,” he said. “It’s close and there will be people up there who can help.”

  “Shouldn’t we call someone?” Grace asked.

  “They don’t have phones in a place like this,” Charlie said.

  “There must be someone here with a cell phone.”

  Charlie looked her straight in the eyes. “Grace, I don’t think there’s anyone here.”

  It took a few moments for Grace to realize what Charlie meant. If there had been anyone left at the hut, someone would have heard the gunshots. But nobody had come. They were alone. There was nobody left. Nobody alive.

  Charlie must have read the panic on her face. “There’s a store at the summit, though! We can see if there’s a phone there. From there we can take the access road all the way down to the base. All we need is to find a car.”

  Grace wasn’t sure. She looked around the room, hoping for an alternate solution, but she knew she wouldn’t find one.

  “It’s only three hours to the top,” Charlie reasoned. “Maybe only two if we hurry. And I don’t know about you, but two hours to the top sounds better than seven hours to the base.”

  Realizing this was the only sensible plan, Grace nodded in agreement.

  They quickly scanned the room, looking only for things they needed. Charlie reached into his backpack and grabbed more bullets. He would have enough to refill the gun two more times. After that, they’d have to find something else to defend themselves.

  Grace grabbed a multi-tool from her backpack and slid her feet into her hiking boots. They both stood up, facing each other.

  “George and Cheryl!” Grace blurted out, remembering the old couple from the night before.

  Charlie shook his head. “There’s no time.”

  “They’re staying in the other hallway. They’re on our way out!” Grace reasoned.

  Charlie sighed.

  “You know I’m right!” Grace begged. “They’re older, but they’re strong. We’ll be safer with them, much safer than if we’re by ourselves!”

  “Okay,” Charlie said. “We’ll check a few rooms, but if we don’t find them, that’s it. I’m not checking this whole place.” Grace nodded.

  Charlie led them out of the room, into the hallway. Grace followed. Immediately upon entering the hall, she glimpsed Caitlin’s body lying on the floor, bloodied and maimed. She drew in a sharp breath that caused Charlie to flinch. He spun on his heel and put a finger to his lips. Grace, with her hands covering her mouth and tears spilling through her fingers, shut her eyes and reluctantly nodded. Charlie lowered his hand in a calming gesture and motioned toward the common room.

  The lounge area was deserted. Grace couldn’t believe that only twelve hours ago, this place had been alive and full of energy. There was surely an energy still, but it was of a different kind. What had once been a warm and inviting hearth was now a cold, darkened tomb. Grace could feel it. She could feel the chill, the tingle in her arms like electric pulses, the ache of stress and tension along her spine. She had to leave this place.

  They walked stealthily through the silent lounge so as not to be heard by anyone. Suddenly, Grace stopped. Charlie continued for a few steps, but when he no longer felt her presence, he turned around and offered a questioning look.

  Something wasn’t right.

  “There really is nobody here,” Grace whispered.

  Charlie found the realization to be unnerving. He only stared back at her. He had no answers.

  “How is that possible?” she asked. “Where did they all go?”

  Charlie shrugged.

  Grace’s eyes wandered around the room, down the hallway from which they’d just emerged, over to the large windows that overlooked the lake. Charlie looked around too. There were no signs of life.

  But Charlie’s eyes were far more focused; he wanted nothing more than to get out of the hut as quickly as possible. “We don’t have time to find out,” he said. “Let’s just go get George and Cheryl and get out of here.”

  Grace put her curiosity on hold and they continued walking toward the main hall. They checked doors as they walked by. Each time they opened a door, they found an empty room. One after the other, they found beds that had been slept in, windows with the curtains drawn open—backpacks, shoes, and hiking equipment on the floors of most rooms. Where had everybody gone? And why did they leave everything?

  Charlie opened another door. The room looked just as the others did. The bed was unmade. Bags, clothes, and other things were tossed around the room. He drew a quick, sharp breath when he recognized an item on the floor: the shirt they’d seen George wearing the day before. He tugged Grace’s sleeve.

  Grace, who had been half-searching, half-keeping watch, turned to him. Charlie’s eyes went straight to George’s shirt
lying on the floor. Grace saw it and froze. Instinctively, they both looked around for signs of a struggle but found none. No blood. No bodies. No body parts. The room was abandoned. George and Cheryl were either dead, or they’d somehow managed to escape whatever was going on inside the hut.

  A loud bang drew their attention back toward the hallway. Grace jerked her head the moment she heard it. She looked back at Charlie. His eyes darted in the direction of the lounge, from where the sound had emanated. Grace opened her mouth to speak but Charlie held up a hand. His eyes slowly went to the ground as he tried to concentrate. He waited for the sound again. Grace took in short, shallow breaths, staying as quiet as possible.

  Another loud noise. This time, it was more of a scuff, like the sound of a table leg scraping across the tile floor in the dining area. Someone must have bumped into a picnic table, Charlie thought. He stepped around Grace, walking softly back out of the room and into the hallway. Grace began to follow, but Charlie raised his hand and signaled her to stay. She watched from the door to the room.

  Charlie raised his gun and aimed in the direction of the lounge. He moved stealthily toward the sound, inching his way along the wall.

  He saw movement, flinched, and nearly squeezed the trigger. The gun shook in his hand. Someone had moved just around the corner. Charlie’s chest burned as his heart beat faster and faster, each step more tentative than the last. He drew in a breath, and readied his finger on the trigger.

  A figure stepped out from around the corner. It was George. He waved his hands submissively. Charlie closed his eyes and exhaled in relief.

  George turned slightly and thumbed toward the double doors of the kitchen. “We’re in there,” he whispered. “I saw you two walk by, but I didn’t want to make a noise so I thought I would follow you, let you know where we are.”

  Catching his breath, Charlie felt relief continue to flood into his body.

  “‘Tried not to make a noise,’ huh?” Charlie asked.

  George shrugged, embarrassed.

  It was only then that Charlie grew nervous, wondering if George had heard or seen what had happened to Terry or the little girl.

  “How long have you been in there?” Charlie asked, sticking his gun in the back of his waistband.

  “I don’t know,” George said. “A few hours, I guess.”

  Charlie swallowed hard and hung his head a bit before asking, “Did you see what happened earlier?”

  “We didn’t see,” George said. His face was somber. “But we heard.”

  Charlie nodded. He closed his eyes again as shame filled him.

  “It’s not your fault, son,” George whispered. He reached out a hand and placed it on Charlie’s shoulder. “You did what you had to, to protect your wife. I would have done the same thing.”

  Charlie looked up. George’s eyes were honest. For that, Charlie was grateful.

  “Now, go get Grace and come into the kitchen,” George said. “You’ll be safe in there.”

  “How many of you are there?” Charlie asked.

  “Just me and Cheryl,” he said, his voice still low.

  “Where are the others?” Charlie asked.

  George shrugged.

  Charlie turned to Grace. She was still standing in the doorway to the room. He waved her over.

  “We’re going to go to the kitchen,” Charlie whispered. “George and Cheryl are there, and they’re safe. We should go to the kitchen.” He was trying to convince himself just as much as her.

  Grace looked at him and shook her head. “What about the summit?” she asked.

  “It’s okay,” Charlie said, trying to reassure her. “We’ll be safe, right?” he said and turned to George, begging his reply. George nodded. “All right, then. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  They followed George back through the dining area. Grace couldn’t help but feel vulnerable to an attack. The common room was such a large area and the windows were so large, they could easily be seen from outside. But to her relief, they made it through the lounge unnoticed.

  They passed through the steel double doors and walked into the empty kitchen. There were fewer windows, so it was much darker than the rest of the hut.

  “We were afraid to turn on the lights,” George explained as they walked in.

  The kitchen had an altogether different atmosphere than the rest of the hut. The air felt sterile and desolate. To their left was a long, wooden counter, on top of which sat knives and other utensils, neatly filed away in blocks and metal canisters. Pots and pans hung from racks installed in the ceiling. Beyond the counter were the grill and a broiler.

  They continued walking. To their right there was a large, industrial-size dishwasher. Just beyond it was a long, stainless steel drying rack. A trail of thick, viscous blood painted the floor from the end of the drying rack back to the double doors. Grace had hardly noticed it. She was already becoming desensitized to the sight of so much blood and gore. It occurred to her that numbness to such horror was not a good thing.

  “Where is Cheryl?” Grace asked.

  “She’s in the freezer,” George said. “Safest place for us both. We’ve been bundled up in there a while. I had her wait there while I came out to get you folks.”

  There was a large walk-in freezer on the other side of the broiler. George was about to open the door when Charlie stopped.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “This is the plan? To wait in the freezer?”

  George removed his hand from the door, turned to face Charlie.

  “Is there a better idea?” he asked.

  “Well,” Charlie began matter-of-factly, “I told Grace the best move would be to get to the summit, see if we can get some assistance from whoever’s running the store up there. From there, we can take the access road to the bottom of the mountain.”

  George looked at him dubiously. “And how do you plan to get there, hotshot?”

  “We run!” Charlie said. Realizing he was getting louder, he attempted to regain his composure. “We run,” he said softly. “We run as fast as we can, as long as we can. It’s a three-hour climb, but I think we can cut that in half.”

  George let out a “hmpf,” belittling Charlie’s idea. “Well, you go right ahead. And while you’re running to the top of the mountain, I’ll be calling for help.”

  Grace perked up. “You have a phone?” George nodded. “Then why haven’t you called anyone?”

  “We were waiting to see if anyone else was here. Any other...survivors.” The word itself indicated that something massively tragic had occurred.

  “Well, shit,” Charlie said. “Let’s call the park ranger service. But I still say we run to the summit. Grace and I are not staying here. This place is a morgue and we’re not sticking around.”

  George put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. George now appeared reassuring, almost to the point of patronizing. Grace could tell that Charlie was confused by the way George’s manner seemed to switch back and forth. She herself began to question George’s motives. Just a second ago, he was downright angered by the idea of hiking to the summit. Now he was caring and mindful, much like he had been when he first bumped into them out in the hall. Grace was feeling more and more unsure about the man.

  George looked at Grace. “Why don’t you go wait in the freezer with Cheryl? Charlie and I will make one more round to see if there’s anyone else, and then we’ll make the call.” He held his hands open, a gesture that said, Why not?

  Grace looked at Charlie for support. The look on his face was one of cautious optimism.

  “Go ahead,” Charlie said. “We’ll be right back.”

  Grace walked toward the freezer. George opened the door. And with one, swift motion, he put his hand on her back, shoved her inside, and slammed the door shut, locking it behind her.

  Charlie panicked. He drew his gun. “What the fuck is going on?!” he yelled. He could hear Grace pounding from the inside of the door.

  “Now just take it easy,�
�� George said, quietly, his back pressed against the door. “You don’t want to go alarming one of those things now, do you?”

  Charlie kept the gun aimed at George. He looked up and down the door to see how he might be able to pry it open.

  “It’s locked,” George said. “Ain’t nobody getting it open. But I know where the key is. If you shoot me, you’ll never find it.”

  Grace could hear muffled voices on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She pounded on the door a few times.

  “What’s going on out there?!” she yelled. She heard a scraping noise behind her.

  Then a slurping noise. The sounds were coming from the back of the fridge. She turned around. She saw the figure of a woman standing alone among the racks of frozen meats.

  “Cheryl?” she called out.

  The woman stood in the opposite corner, hunched over.

  “Cheryl, is that you? George and Charlie are going to call for help.”

  As Grace’s eyes adjusted to the dim, yellow light in the freezer, she realized it was Cheryl. She also noticed that her arms and mouth were covered in blood. Oh shit, Grace thought as Cheryl licked at her hands, trying to consume as much of the red, plasma-like fluid as she could. Grace looked down at Cheryl’s feet and saw four carcasses torn to shreds. Flesh and bone twisted, broken, and bent into forms unrecognizable to her lay scattered on the floor in front of her.

  Panic set in. Grace stayed still. She didn’t want to try anything that might set Cheryl off in a rage. She looked around quickly, tried to find something with which to defend herself. She saw a mop handle a few feet to her right. She could get to it quickly and easily. She took a step. Cheryl looked up abruptly. She gnashed her teeth and ran toward Grace. She stumbled as she stepped through the pile of corpses. Grace reached out for the mop handle.

  “Why the fuck did you lock them in there?” Charlie fumed. George was silent. His face was full of shame. Within seconds, Charlie realized he still hadn’t seen Cheryl. He’d only assumed she was hiding in the freezer based on what George had told him and Grace. He quickly understood what had become of her.