Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  Her mother, displeased with Stephanie's dependence on the device, snatched the phone right out of her hands. "That's the point, young lady. To spend time with your family."

  "Mom!"

  Joey then unleashed an over the top laugh while obnoxiously pointing in his sister’s face, which in turn sparked a cliché sibling spat routinely found in most households. Cheryl, always the referee, stepped in between her two sparring children and started shuffling them towards the door. "Alright. Break it up. Let dad have his breakfast."

  Both kids let out a unified grumble as they complied in leaving the bedside. But even after submitting to their parent's wishes, the juvenile commotion continued from the common room. Cheryl closed the bedroom door while looking at her husband and tried to contain a laughing smile. "Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted."

  He simply nodded his head with a defeated smirk. "At least they're doing something together."

  Paul then reached over and grabbed the remote control resting on the nightstand. As he turned the television on, his wife strolled over to the blinds, opening them up and letting the morning light into the room. "This place really is beautiful."

  The view from their hotel room overlooked the main courtyard of Mountain Village. A series of buildings, the Cliffs included, were built in a circle along the outskirts of the village's main pavilion. In the center resided a frozen fountain, empty now but always full of ice skating children around lunchtime. In the hours to come the clothing stores, ski shops and lift ticket booths positioned around the courtyard would open as the resorts’ guests scrambled to get the first snow tracks of the day.

  Designed to look like its namesake, Mountain Village represented the commercial age's growing fascination with antiquity. Each one tied into the next, the building’s stone facades and terra cotta roofs piled on top of one another in a seamless transition from one structure to the next. In between them, pathways made up of carefully designed stone pavers shepherded all who walked on them to the gondola’s base. Everything about the village echoed a sense of old time charm and class, but replicating such a style with new construction left the buildings looking overly fantastical and manufactured.

  Cheryl's comment about the view’s beauty was not so much focused on the artificial winter wonderland but more towards the natural scenery of the Colorado Rockies behind it. The majestic setting was only amplified by several white flurries gracefully gliding through the air. "Looks like it's starting to snow, too."

  Already well into his breakfast, her husband was less concerned with the pitiful evidence of snowfall out the window than that of the forecast on the television. "With a lot more to come. Look."

  She turned around to the sight of a Denver weather woman highlighting a massive storm front moving in the direction of southwestern Colorado. During any other situation, Cheryl might treat such circumstances with aggravation and concern. But because of their ski trip, the normally reserved mother nodded approvingly with pleased satisfaction. "We might be snowed in here."

  Finally turning to look out at the mountain's pristine slopes through the window, a big smile stretched across Paul's bacon-filled mouth. "One can only hope."

  2

  Whatever little coffee Phillip O’Neil had in his mug was already cold. Completely dressed in his red ski patrol uniform, he sat waiting at a table in the small warming hut for almost half an hour.

  The tiny cabins, strategically placed around the mountain, were used as outposts for ski patrollers to pass the time in-between calls. But the warming huts also acted as a resting spot for skiers looking for a blanket and cup of hot chocolate.

  Considered to be one of the local old timers by the resort's seasonal employees, Phil had been saving lives on the mountain so long the job practically became second nature. He mastered the art of treating broken bones and open wounds to the point where he could do it on the steepest cliff in the dead of night. Mountain EMS had been his life's calling, but not every day was filled with action and excitement, so it helped to have a partner worth passing the time with. For the past couple seasons, Phil was glad to have a youngster with a good sense of humor and laid back approach to life. It made the downtime that much easier. But on days like today Phil wasn't going to put up with any bullshit, which made waiting for his partner to show up a frustrating experience.

  Phil looked down into the mug and actually contemplated taking a final swig of his ice cold coffee when the door to the hut suddenly swung open. Chris entered followed by a few whirling flurries of snow trailing in after him. Already dressed in his gear, Chris quickly shut the door behind him and started preparing a pot of coffee on the counter. "I know. I know. You don't have to tell me how late I am."

  Phil casually remained seated, still holding his mug. "Half an hour."

  "I said you didn't have to tell me."

  Without saying a word, Phil slowly stood and made his way over to the counter. Chris stared down at the brewing machine when Phil reached over and clicked it off. The young patroller threw up his arms with a confused expression. "Ummm, excuse you?"

  But Phil just looked up at him with a blank stare, trying hard to hide his aggravation. "Have you seen the weather report?"

  "Yeah. Blue skies and sunshine. Can I have my coffee now, please?"

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Phil walked around Chris and moved towards the door. "I'm usually easy on you, kid, but we haven't even started our morning rounds yet."

  Chris lowered his head and spoke without turning around to face his partner. "Phil..."

  "Not today, Chambers. Not when there's a blizzard..."

  "Sarah tried to have the talk."

  Phil stopped his walk towards the door and paused for a second before slowly turning around. "I told you it was coming."

  Chris humbly looked up at him with a sense of defeated innocence. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You have the almighty age and wisdom. I know."

  The old patroller took a deep breath while staring into his partner's helpless face. "Fine. Drink your stupid coffee. You have five minutes of my counsel."

  Phil moved back over to the table and sat down. "You're lucky I don't charge for this."

  After turning his attention back towards the brew, Chris began pouring a cup. "She’s loyal. I’ll give her that much. We’ve had five summers of this long distance crap.”

  He then moved over to the table and sat down opposite his partner. "And I love her, man. I really do. But the thought of settling down, kids and white picket fences. It’s scary, ya’ know?"

  Phil smirked and let out a slight chuckle at the young man's ignorance. "Yeah. The whole prospect seems absolutely terrifying."

  "It's not funny. This is my life we're talking about."

  Tilting his head to the side, Phil continued to leer at his partner with a look of exaggerated sarcasm. "I know. It's so tough. You work in such horrendous job conditions skiing in one of the most beautiful places on Earth and have a wicked, gorgeous woman who wants to spend her life with you. Your world is in ruins."

  Even though he sought out Phillip’s advice, Chris knew beforehand he wasn’t going to like what he had to say. A small part of him hoped that his experienced partner would have just told him what he wanted to hear, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t going to happen.

  So when faced with the option of overheating or taking off his jacket, Chris decided to ignore a possibly frustrating conversation. "You know what?" He then took a big swig of his coffee while standing up from the table. “The mountain’s going to open soon. We should get out there.”

  Phil let out a big belly laugh as Chris dumped the rest of his drink in the sink and started towards the door. “Come on! Don’t be like that. Yours is a very serious problem most guys have.”

  Ignoring his partner, Chris opened the door and headed onto the mountain, even as Phil yelled out to him from his seat at the table. “I’m sure they make medication for it and everything!”

  ***

  Peter Hayden already had one foot out
the door and his face into the light snowfall when his wife, Rachel, called him back into the house. "Forgetting something?"

  He turned to see her holding up his briefcase in the kitchen, swaying it back and forth mockingly. After letting out a sigh, Peter walked back inside and took the briefcase from her with a smile. "What would I do without you?"

  She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear before pulling away. "Probably run this place into the ground."

  They shared a silent look of mutual happiness only years of a joyous marriage could produce. But their little moment of peace was interrupted by the thunder of their ten year old son stomping down the stairs. "It's snowing!"

  The boy, already fully dressed in his snowsuit, continued his stampede as he reached the floor and barreled into both his parents. They simultaneously let out a playful grunt, wrapping their arms around him.

  Peter then knelt down and straightened out his son's silly jester-like snow hat. "You can wear this for now but don't forget your helmet out there."

  "I will, dad. Jeez."

  "I'm serious. You’re in ski school to keep you safe, but the mountain is still twice as crowded during these winter breaks and twice as dangerous."

  "Nothing's gonna happen. Stop treating me like a baby."

  He couldn't help but smile at his son's remarks. "You'll always be my baby, Ryan. No matter what."

  Rachel stood next to the sentimental scene with a smile of her own. Her eyes then drifted around the expansive living room and felt a sense of pride at how far her little family had come from their humble beginnings. Peter had been Mountain Village’s Manager for decades, and thanks to his hard work, the town had steadily seen an increase in visitor traffic during the non-holiday blocks of the season, the hardest to fill. Recently he’d begun to morph Telluride's image as an exclusive mountain for the wealthy into an affordable vacation spot for the middle class. And the resort’s owners had rewarded his family in kind for establishing that perception.

  She looked down at the two most important men in her life and thought to extend their moment together. "I was going to drive Ryan up to the gondola base, but maybe you should take him, dad?"

  The tails to his jester hat swung about as Ryan jumped with joy. "Yeah!”

  Peter nodded his head in agreement as he ushered his son towards the door. "All right. But let's hurry before it really starts coming down."

  The father and son exited the house, closed the door behind them and made their way through the large, chunky snowflakes falling in every direction. Peter walked with a brisk pace while keeping his head down and away from the snow. Ryan, on the other hand, danced his way to the car and embraced the winter wonderland of their front lawn. “It’s like we’re inside a snow globe.”

  Peter pointed to the SUV in the driveway, trying to keep his son focused. “Well, if you don’t get in the car I’ll turn you upside down and shake you like one. Did you remember the key to your ski locker?”

  Annoyed by his father’s pestering, Ryan rolled his eyes while finally entering the car’s passenger side. “Yeah, dad. I keep telling you, I’m not a baby.”

  While opening the car door, Peter smiled again at his son’s desire to grow up. But instead of stepping inside, his attention diverted to his neighbor’s house. Or at least, the closest thing he had to a neighbor. In contrast to the old and decadent town of Telluride, the condos and mansions of Mountain Village, built seemingly overnight, represented the lavish and debonair lifestyle associated with high society.

  The municipality was effectively a combination of the condos, hotels and stores clumped together around the gondola's base as well as a series of mega mansions spread out over the mountainside. Peter took pride in the fact that he not only called this winter paradise home, but that he was responsible for its creation.

  Unfortunately, because of the clientele that the area’s accommodations attracted, Mountain Village had few permanent residents. And the man who currently occupied the house closest to the Hayden’s, which was almost a quarter mile down the road, never spent more than four days before heading back to his home in Los Angeles.

  Peter watched as he saw the speck of a man in the distance exit the house and enter a limo that had been waiting in the driveway. Peter knew the man, who didn’t ski and lived alone in the forty-two hundred square foot house, was Scott Brooks. As a leader in this unique community, a place where the cost of the average single family home approached five million dollars, Peter made it a point to know all the property owners in Mountain Village. What Mr. Brooks did for a living that allowed him to purchase a five million dollar home in cash was another mystery entirely.

  As the limo drove off, Peter brushed aside his pending questions for Mr. Brooks and stepped inside the car. After backing out of the driveway and turning on the windshield wipers, Peter began a slow drive through the village’s windy roads as they climbed the mountain.

  After several minutes of passing by a series of sporadically placed mansions, the father and son both spotted another neighbor standing on a balcony. The bald man carelessly sipped from a mug and wore a white bathrobe that blended into the falling snowflakes surrounding him. He caught a glimpse of Peter inside the car and responded by lifting his mug to the sky with a wide smile.

  Ryan kept his eyes on the man with a star-struck look of amazement. "Is that Austin Cage?"

  "I think so. I heard he bought a place here recently. Just didn’t know which one."

  Ryan turned to his father with energized excitement. “So he’s going to come to the film festival every year? That’s awesome!”

  “Don’t assume, Ryan. Maybe he just wants a place to ski.”

  But the boy ignored his father’s precaution and went on rambling. “Did you see his last movie where he’s a marine in the jungle? There was this big explosion at the end, and he’s thrown from a helicopter half way across…”

  Ryan continued to talk, and Peter tried to listen. But he was too distracted by his son’s assumption. Although great for the town, Telluride’s film and musical festivals gave off a perception that it catered to famous celebrities. It was an image he was trying to move away from. Then again, rebranding the resort while keeping its reputation intact wasn’t necessarily that simple.

  As the economy spiked in the nineties, Peter led the charge to revamp Telluride's scrappy ski resort into a luxurious retreat of class and prestige. After years of planning, Mountain Village ended up becoming the physical realization of that dream.

  But times had changed, and the need for expanding business forced Peter to push the envelope. Rachel, with her liberal mindset, was happy with his newest marketing campaign to make Telluride an obtainable paradise for all. But Peter was worried that by making the mountain more accessible financially, he'd alienate the wealthy that enjoyed the austerity that came with the mountain’s steep price tag.

  Then again, maybe he was too close to the issue and over-thinking the situation. Maybe residents like Austin Cage would always come to Telluride, not because of its perception as a high society retreat but simply because of the breathtaking views he, himself, was currently amazed by.

  After all, the valley’s natural beauty and wonder were unlike any other Colorado had to offer. Through the falling snow, Peter stared out at the trees, streams and mountaintops, mystified by its existence. And he had forgotten just how lucky he was to call this place home. It wasn’t a metropolis like Aspen or a rest stop along a highway like Vail. It was a heavenly utopia, hidden from the world. Telluride truly was a special place. And it was his job to keep it that way.

  ***

  At the moment, Johnny Prescott was thanking God he lived in a town where his commute consisted of a five-minute walk and a gondola ride. No matter how hungover or half-asleep he happened to be, as long as he made it to that base station he would be brought straight to work. But on this day, he happened to be neither. He woke up feeling strangely hot for living in the Rockies during the middle of winter. Combined with body ac
hes and a series of intermittent chills, Johnny assumed he was feeling the after effects of Tiffany Miller’s sexual escapades.

  He knew from the moment he met her, that girl would probably be the end of him. But that’s the problem with love. Even knowing of your own impending doom, you’re still powerless to stop yourself. They’d been going steady for a couple weeks, but he knew she’d gone behind his back with other guys in the past. He cursed himself knowing the possibility of an STD wasn’t completely absurd. Then again, they did roll around on the floor of a hundred year old mine. So Johnny reluctantly admitted that might’ve had something to do with it.

  He sat alone in the gondola cabin as it turned a corner at the mid-mountain station and began its descent into Mountain Village. The boy normally enjoyed the morning sight of a pristine ski slope as the slow ride brought him gracefully down the mountain. But today he was too focused on keeping himself together that the scenic view didn’t even register to him. Besides, in the ten minutes he’d been on the gondola, the light snowfall he walked through to get to the station had grown heavier and obscured the cabin’s windows.

  Johnny closed his eyes, huddled in the corner of the cabin and tried desperately to fight the alternating bouts of heat and chills. But a growing knot in the pit of his stomach was quickly becoming the more pressing problem. Not wanting to focus on the sickness, Johnny’s mind started to drift and wonder if Tiffany was feeling the same way. He briefly considered calling her, but his train of thought was interrupted by a bump in the cabin as it pulled into the station.

  The gondola doors swung open just as Johnny’s eyes did the same. The boy then tucked his chin and arms into his chest as he stepped out into the glass station, preparing himself for the cold. Johnny’s gaze was focused downward, but he could feel the gondola’s attendant shoot him a mixed stare of morbid repulsion and grotesque fascination. Johnny didn’t bother looking in the mirror before he rolled out of bed and left the house twenty minutes earlier but assumed that his outward appearance reflected exactly how he felt on the inside. He might’ve responded to the attendant if he had the strength, but for now, Johnny was more focused on not collapsing in the snow on his walk across the courtyard.