Dead Summit (Book 1): Dead Summit

by Loubier, Daniel

  Grace opened her eyes. A noise had disturbed her sleep. She sat up on the mattress and tried to determine the direction from which the noise had come. Again, the noise intruded the silence, startling Grace. It came directly across from where she lay in bed. Someone was knocking on one of the large windows. Grace pulled the sheets away and stood from the mattress. She looked toward the windows.

  Her eyes were wide as she saw Charlie there. He was knocking on the window. He was trying to say something, but she could barely hear him from the other side of the glass.

  “Charlie!” Grace yelled. “Are you okay?”

  Charlie continued knocking. His mouth also continued to move but Grace still couldn’t hear him. She could barely make out sounds. He was definitely trying to tell her something.

  “What is it?” she asked desperately.

  She closed the distance between herself and the windows. Charlie’s voice was a little louder now. A little clearer. He was asking her a question.

  “Are you in there?” Charlie asked.

  Grace was confused. He was staring right at her.

  “I’m right here, baby! Can’t you see me?”

  “Are you in there?” Charlie repeated.

  Grace banged her palm against the window. “I’m here, Charlie!!! I’m right here! What’s wrong?”

  But Charlie continued knocking. Grace couldn’t understand what was happening. She slammed both hands against the glass and called out for Charlie. But it was no use. Charlie only stood there, knocking at the window.

  Grace woke and immediately sat up in bed. Disoriented, she looked around.

  Charlie.

  She jumped from the bed and ran to the window.

  There was nobody outside. It was only a dream. Charlie was not coming back to her.

  A knocking sound from down the main hallway drew her attention from the window. She walked cautiously through the common room and into the hall. She squinted as she tried to identify where the knocking had come from. Her eyes were sore again, likely from all the crying she’d done the previous day. Grace thought of Caitlin’s journal. Reading Caitlin’s words was the last thing she’d done prior to going to sleep. She couldn’t help but continue to feel sad for the little girl.

  Another knock. This time it was more of a pounding. Grace turned her head toward the main door. There was a person knocking at the entrance to the hut.

  She took a few tentative steps into the hall. She could see a face in the window in the door at the other end. The person’s eyes lit up upon seeing Grace. It was a man. He waved. His mouth was moving but from this distance his voice was a mere mumble.

  Without concern for her safety and without considering the zombies outside, Grace moved toward the door. The man outside had turned to his right. He was saying something. There was somebody else with him, but Grace couldn’t see who it was or how many people there were.

  She reached the door and looked out the window. There was a man and a woman.

  “Hi!” the man said, his voice raised. “Can we come in?”

  Grace regarded him skeptically. His face glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

  “Who are you?” she asked softly. Her throat was dry and her voice cracked.

  The man turned toward the woman outside.

  “This is Shelly and I’m Robert,” he said. “Can we come inside?”

  Grace turned toward Shelly. She looked spooked by something, uncomfortable about being there.

  “What are you doing here?” Grace asked, turning back to Robert. It was a full-on inquisition.

  “We found a dead body over by the lake,” Robert said. “Are you okay?”

  Poor, sweet Roy, she thought. He’d taken himself out for the greater good. It occurred to her she’d never thanked him for it. Then again, how do you thank someone for shooting himself in the head?

  “Hello!” Robert pounded on the window in the door. Grace jumped as she came out of her trance. She collected herself. Something about Robert and Shelly didn’t seem right.

  “What time is it?” Grace asked.

  Robert looked at his watch. “7:30.”

  Grace pinched her eyebrows.

  “How are you just getting here at 7:30 in the morning?”

  “We’re night hikers,” Robert said.

  “What?”

  “We hike at night. We left at midnight.”

  “From the campground?” Grace asked.

  “Campground’s closed,” Robert said. “We parked up the road a bit, near a trailhead.”

  Grace nodded as if this made sense.

  “Who else is with you?” she asked.

  “Like I said, it’s just me and my girlfriend, Shelly,” he said.

  Grace turned to Shelly. She’d been awfully quiet this whole time. She was tall for a girl. She had blonde hair, tied back in a tight ponytail. Her skin was milky white and perfect, except for her rosy, flushed cheeks. Certainly a nice change from the dead, gray-skinned people Grace had grown accustomed to seeing. The two of them looked young, probably in their early twenties. Robert himself had quite the physique, his chest muscles prominently on display even through his fleece jacket. A Red Sox cap covered his shaggy brown hair.

  She looked over Robert’s shoulder, past Shelly, and off into the woods. Grace tried to remember the last time she’d seen one of the undead. It had been several days since she’d even bothered to look out the windows. Was it possible they were finally gone? All of them?

  She casually unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Thank you,” Robert said as he stepped in easily. Shelly smiled apologetically as she walked past Grace. The two of them looked up and down the walls and doors of the hut. Grace’s head was still in a fog. How did these people get here? Didn’t they see any zombies?

  “Where is everybody?” Robert asked. He seemed a little too anxious for information.

  Grace’s eyes were still on the ground, unfocused.

  “Hello?” Robert said again, snapping his fingers. Shelly grabbed his arm; a silent urge for him to calm down.

  Grace blinked, jerked her head.

  “There’s nobody here,” she said.

  Robert and Shelly exchanged a nervous glance.

  “Well, we need to call someone about that dead body,” Robert insisted.

  “Phone’s out,” Grace said dryly.

  “You’re kidding,” Robert said.

  Grace slowly shook her head. Her face was blank, expressionless.

  “Well what are we going to do?” Robert asked.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Grace said. At that, she turned toward the door.

  “Wait,” Robert started toward her. “Where are you going?”

  “The place is all yours,” she said. “I was just leaving.”

  “What?!” Robert huffed like a child throwing a tantrum. “Why are you leaving?”

  Grace stopped walking and turned to Robert. Her eyes were cold as she stared into his.

  “I’m leaving because I made a promise to someone very important to me.”

  Robert cocked his head, confused, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what that meant. He tried to think of something to say just as Shelly spoke up.

  “We found a gun outside.” Shelly had finally found her voice. Grace saw Robert’s shoulders slump forward immediately following those words. “It was down by the lake,” she added.

  “Were there any bullets left in it?” Grace asked.

  “No,” Shelly asked. Again, Robert displayed his annoyance as he swung his arms up and down at his sides.

  “Okay,” Grace said. Her gaze again went to the floor as she tried to think. “I guess he only required one bullet.”

  “Who did?” Robert asked.

  “Never mind,” Grace said. “Anyway, you might want to consider reloading it. There are some more bullets by the chair facing the big windows in the common room.”

  Grace walked to the front door, pushed it open, and walked dow
n the steps. She swore she heard Robert’s voice trailing off as she stepped out onto the lawn.

  For the first time in more days than she could remember, the morning sun warmed Grace’s skin and clothes. She walked across the grounds toward the lake. She stopped at the water’s edge. She was amazed at how many there had been. Yet, as she stared into the crystal clear water, she saw no trace of them. She turned back to the hut and stared. It had been home for as long as she had been there. Now, it was hell; Grace would be damned if she ever found herself locked inside again.

  She started toward the spot where she’d seen Roy shoot himself. The body lay face-down. There was blood and meat that had turned black and moldy on the ground. Flies had long since laid their eggs on the rotting flesh; maggots now infested the carcass.

  When she came within ten feet of the body, she stopped. She thought of the life that had once occupied the form that now lay still in front of her. She wondered if Roy had had any family left. Perhaps an uncle, a cousin. She realized then that she’d never asked. She’d simply taken him for a loner. Surely he’d had friends, though. Someone would miss him. Grace would miss him—that much she knew.

  Eventually, it was the shirt that tipped her off. Roy had been wearing a red flannel shirt. The body on the ground wore a tan-colored shirt. The person’s hair was black also, not Roy’s reddish-brown. More importantly, and even though the body was face-down, Grace could tell the person did not have a beard.

  This body was not Roy.

  Where the hell is Roy?

  Grace’s heart quickened as she looked around. She suddenly felt claustrophobic as panic began to settle in. She spun and stared back at the hut. She could see nobody; neither Robert nor Shelly passed by the large windows. Grace turned again and scanned the far edge the lake.

  She saw him immediately. He was crouched by the water’s edge, feeding on something. Grace recognized the red-flannel shirt, even from a hundred yards away.

  Roy hadn’t shot himself. At least not in the head. He’d turned into one of them. He’d probably eaten the body that now lay on the ground in front of Grace. That only meant on thing.

  There would be more.

  Without drawing attention to herself, Grace turned and walked quietly toward the trail. She had a long way down and she’d need more than just a head start on him.

  When she could no longer see the lake or Roy, Grace broke into a sprint.

  Shelly watched through binoculars as Grace disappeared into the woods.

  “She’s out,” Shelly said. “Call it in.”

  Robert removed the walkie-talkie from under his shirt. He brought it to his mouth.

  “Team 2, this is Team 1. We’ve got one down and one survivor, a woman. She’s coming your way. Be advised. Over.”

  There was a hiss and a crackle.

  “Is she clean or dirty? Over.”

  “She’s clean,” Robert said into the talkie. “She just left the hut. She’s heading back to the campground. But Roy’s down. He’s dirty, by the lake. Over.”

  “We’ll take care of the girl. Over.”

  “How’s my perimeter?” Robert asked.

  “Perimeter is set, five-mile radius. Over.”

  “Good. Keep your eyes open. You know the drill. Over and out.”

  Shelly stared at Robert as he calmly replaced the talkie on his hip. She was amazed and disgusted by his callousness.

  “Don’t you feel anything?” Shelly asked.

  Robert looked up, stunned.

  “What should I feel?”

  Shelly placed her hands on her hips.

  “Didn’t you hear what she said? That poor woman probably lost someone close to her.”

  Robert shrugged his shoulders.

  “Hey, this is the gig,” he said.

  “I know,” Shelly said. “And I didn’t ask for it. I just wish sometimes that we didn’t have to do that.”

  “Hey, that was always Roy’s problem,” Robert snapped. “He cared too much. He couldn’t do one simple job like take care of the girl. Christ, he couldn’t even pull the trigger on himself! And now look at him.” He pointed out the window. “He’s a fuckin’ deadie.”

  Shelly stared at the ground, moping.

  “Hey, don’t start that shit,” Robert said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us and we haven’t even seen the summit yet. Let’s get moving.”

  Shelly removed an empty garbage bag from her pack. She shook it open and began searching the common room for anything that might raise suspicion. She searched inside and underneath the furniture.

  She started with the large pieces—the sofas and recliners. When she finished, she stood up and made a quick scan of the room. There was an object under one of the picnic tables on the other side of the common room that caught her eye. She walked across the room and bent down to look at the item.

  It was the journal.

  She picked it up and quickly leafed through the pages, not stopping to read anything. She noticed a picture that looked like it had been drawn by a child. She also noticed Roy’s name a couple of times as she flipped through the book.

  Without spending much time, she tossed the journal into the trash bag and moved on to the kitchen. Robert was right—they had a long day ahead of them.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I personally wish to acknowledge the assistance of the following people during the writing of this book:

  Bernard Loubier, Matt Loubier, Bernie Loubier, Matt “Deuce” Forcier, Christine Forcier, Stephanie Calderon, Kenny Barton, Tyler Loubier, Wendy Loubier, and Nick Rose. Your guidance has been invaluable.

  Thanks to Michael and J.Anna Aloisi, and everybody at AuthorMike Ink Publishing for this opportunity, and for taking a chance on me. If Michael had told me 15 years ago we’d both be where we are now, I probably would have smashed a frying pan over his head. Thanks buddy.

  This book would still be in dire need of assistance without the wonderful and precise efforts of its editor, Meredith Dias. You are amazing.

  Special thanks to Mom and Dad: You never let me believe I was ordinary (even when I tried to be). And while I still haven’t quite figured out how to thank you for that, I won’t stop trying.

  And to Jess, my bride: Sometimes I don’t know how you put up with me, but thank you. I’m sorry for keeping you awake all those nights as I sat up in bed next to you, tapping away at my keyboard for hours (sometimes into the next morning). You’ve been incredibly patient with me through this entire journey. Thank you for entertaining such a crazy idea.

  Lastly, but certainly not least, if you’re reading this now, that means there’s a good chance you’ve probably read this book. I especially cannot thank you enough, and I hope you enjoyed the last 300-andsomething pages. Or, perhaps you simply flipped through to the acknowledgements page to see if you recognized any of the above names. In either case, and from the bottom of my dark and twisted heart, thank you.