Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  To be fair, the lift line wasn't nearly as long as the one for the gondola, but being a couple hundred more feet in the air didn't help. The extra elevation came with a slight increase in wind and snow that made the wait a little less bearable. Sporadic gusts pounded into her jacket, forcing the girl's arms to wrap around her shivering chest. Big, fluffy balls of falling snow swirled around her from every direction, limiting her sight to just past the end of the lift line. Beyond it, she could see the base of the lift as the front of the line slowly moved forward into position. But after swinging around and scooping up the passengers, the chair began its long journey up the side of the mountain and disappeared into a thick cloud of falling snow. Seeing a chairlift wasn't anything special, and Stephanie had been on one a hundred times before, but it was currently the only sight she could focus on that could distract her from the cold.

  She was beginning to feel a little bit sorry for herself, but that quickly changed when she glanced over at Joey standing next to her. His shivering body stood in much the same position hers did, but his jacket, mask, and goggles were all pulled down, exposing his face to the freezing elements. The color of his skin had faded to a shade of pallid whiteness, and a thick rock of frost had frozen under his nose.

  Upon seeing his condition, Stephanie quickly leaned over to adjust his clothing. "Joey! What's wrong with you? Cover yourself up."

  But as she got closer, Stephanie saw that the freezing air wasn't the only factor affecting her little brother. A frozen bead of sweat outlined his forehead, and his bloodshot eyes stood out from within his pale face. She wasn't a doctor, but Stephanie could easily tell something else was wrong with her sibling.

  Upon hearing the commotion, the children's mother moved up from behind them to investigate the situation. "What's going on here?"

  Their father then poked his head over his wife's shoulder to get a view of their son. "Is everything all...Joey! Are you OK?"

  The boy simply stood motionless except for the steady shiver that consumed his body. "I don't feel so good."

  Stephanie began rubbing her brother's arms in a futile attempt to warm him. "Yeah. No shit."

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Cheryl still snapped at her daughter's language. "Steph! Watch your mouth."

  "But look at him. Something's not right."

  Paul quickly popped out of his skis and crouched down in front of his son. "Joey, what's wrong?"

  The boy kept his head down and eyes closed, trying hard to fight off the cold. "I...I don't know. It hurts all over."

  Scott then removed a glove and pressed the back of his hand to Joey's forehead. "He's burning up."

  Cheryl shook her head, unhappy with her son's appearance. "We should head back. It's getting bad enough out here without him being sick."

  Stephanie was a little disappointed. Not so much that her mother suggested they head in. It actually made sense to call it a day. She just wished the weather wasn't as bad as it was. All winter long she prayed for a day out West with new snow, but a storm can only get so bad before getting fresh tracks wasn't worth risking your life.

  Neither she nor her father objected to her mother's request. It was just understood that Joey's health came first, and he appeared in no condition to refuse them.

  They all looked at one another, silently agreeing to the plan when the Fallon's concerns were suddenly interrupted by a yelling voice from behind them. "Come on! Stop holding up the line!"

  They all looked up to see a big gap between them and the person in line before them. Paul quickly hopped back into his skis as he went over their planned course of action. "We can't get to the Cliffs from here. We still have to take the lift up before we can get down."

  With her dad and mom all ready to go, Stephanie tucked both of her ski poles under one arm and wrapped the other around Joey's shoulder. "Come on, bro. One more ride and we'll take it slow back to the room. Just hang in there."

  She then ushered her brother forward through the falling snow, and together they boarded the lift, which for the final time took them slowly up the mountain.

  5

  Hamburger or chicken? That was the grand dilemma racing through Ryan Hayden's mind at the current moment.

  Throughout the whole morning, all he could do was daydream about Joseph’s homemade pudding. In fact, the boy was so preoccupied with it that Sarah had to constantly look back to make sure he was staying with the group. It was hard enough keeping a class of six eight year olds together on a clear day, let alone in a blizzard, when one of them couldn't stop fantasizing about desserts.

  Several times during the slow, cold rides up the chairlift Ryan tried explaining it to her. He wanted to make her understand that Joseph’s, a cafeteria-like lodge located on top of the mountain, always used the right chocolate to whip cream ratio which made the pudding super sweet, but not so sweet that you got sick. She just didn't get it, though. And how could she? Despite being really cool, Sarah was still an adult. And adults don't understand the nuances of excellent pudding.

  But now Ryan created a problem for himself. He was so excited about the pudding that he couldn't make a decision on the lunch itself. The special pizza wasn't that good. And he wasn't interested in all the extra veggies and stuff they put in the pasta. So, hamburger or chicken were his only options. He kind of wanted a hamburger, but had one yesterday and craved something different. On the other hand, he was also pretty sure his mom planned on cooking chicken for dinner. The whole situation was quickly becoming the hardest decision he had to make all day.

  Undressed from his ski jacket and helmet, Ryan stood wearing his long sleeved thermal in front of Joseph's grill section, staring at the menu like a stupefied zombie. Behind him, the lodge was quickly filling up for the lunchtime rush. Aside from the kitchen, the building basically consisted of a single large dining room and serving area. Like many of the structures built around the mountain, Joseph’s resembled a modern day log cabin outfitted with a high ceiling and wooden tables. But any of the antique furnishings decorated around the room were overpowered by the loud rambling of chatter and a cloud of mixed smells swirling about.

  Swaying back and forth, Ryan’s eyes scanned the words on the menu until an arm wrapped around his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance. "What happened to your pudding?"

  The words were spoken in Sarah's light, caring voice, but Ryan was almost offended by the question. The boy turned and looked at her with a stern, serious expression worthy of the conversation's topic. "Pudding's a dessert. You can't have dessert as your main course."

  "Why not?"

  Again, Ryan looked to his instructor agitated that he had to educate her on such a basic subject. "Because then it wouldn't be as special. You gotta save the best for last."

  Sarah smiled, nodding her head approvingly. "Ryan, my friend, you are wise beyond your years."

  "I guess. But now I don't know what I wanna eat."

  Someone walked by holding a tray filled with two slices, and Sarah was instantly repulsed by the brown color of the cheese. "Pizza sucks, right?"

  Ryan nodded and looked over to Sarah, desperate for help. She looked back at him, unable to remove a new smile from her face. It was an unwritten rule among ski school instructors not to pick favorite students. But it was hard for Sarah not to fall in love with the boy's innocence.

  She finally glanced over behind the grill counter and caught a glimpse of a friend who could help. "Come on. I have an idea."

  Grabbing him by the hand, Sarah led Ryan to the side of the grill and then yelled out to a young girl by the kitchen door. "Hey, Tiff!"

  The pale girl, dressed in the usual Joseph’s uniform and apron, turned around and returned Sarah's greeting with a weak smile. She then slowly trudged over to them, struggling to keep the smile on her face. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Australian."

  Ryan stood idly by, listening in to the conversation as Sarah continued. "You OK? You don’t look so hot.”

  The girl waved her han
d brushing off Sarah’s concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. Long night. That’s all.”

  “How's your mom? She hasn't come in for a lesson in a while."

  "I don't know. I had a big spat with her this morning about staying out late."

  "Don't take it too personally. She just wants what’s best for you."

  The girl obnoxiously rolled her eyes. "No. She wants to ruin my life. I hate that bi-"

  Catching sight of Ryan anxiously looking up at her, the girl suddenly stopped herself short, forcing an overly gleeful smile upon her face. "Hey, little guy!"

  Sarah put her hand on Ryan's head as she introduced the two of them. "This is Ryan, one of my students. Ryan, meet Tiffany Miller."

  The boy bashfully leaned into his instructor, who cuddled him in closer to her with an arm around his shoulder. "Ryan can't seem to find anything to eat. Think you can help us out?"

  Tiffany moved in close, kneeling down to Ryan's eye level. "Sure. So Ryan, if you were to have anything you wanted to eat right now what would it be?"

  His eyes drifted to the ceiling, thinking as he rubbed his chin. "Ummm...tacos!"

  As if literally hit from surprise, Tiffany pretended to be blown backwards, falling to her heels and catching herself on the counter. "Tacos!? Oh, man. You don't make it easy for a girl, do you? Hold on. Lemme see what I can do."

  Ryan watched curiously as Tiffany stood and disappeared into the back kitchen. He was confused yet excited at the possible prospect of getting his choice food. He didn't know exactly why he picked tacos. Probably because he just wanted to see if she could actually make it happen.

  A minute passed by and Ryan still silently stood in wait. At the cusp of disappointment, he looked up at Sarah and started to lose hope. Sensing his eyes upon her, she looked down and gave him a reassuring smile, winking to seal the deal.

  Just then, as if the two women had planned it all along, Tiffany emerged from the back holding a tray of two steaming hot tacos. Ryan's face lit up with joy. Partly because of the tacos, but mostly because he felt special getting something that nobody else could have.

  He accepted the tray with a smile, smelling the spices floating above it. "Thank you."

  "No problem, kid. Enjoy it."

  ***

  As the assistant to arguably the most important man in Telluride, Beth McCabe was accustomed to waiting. Coming from what some would call a privileged childhood, she didn’t always have the skill. In fact, she would be the first to admit that she hated it. But one skill she did excel at was learning how to get what she wanted, and Beth understood very well just how much patience it often required.

  Peter had been silently staring at the miniature building in front of him for about ten minutes, and he still didn’t have a response to it. Beth could tell he really wanted to continue staring at the model, but she could also tell that he felt bad about making her stand by his side the entire time.

  Peter pushed his chair away from the large conference table, giving up hope that he would eventually come up with something to say. “This was the best they could come up with?”

  Beth just shrugged her shoulders innocently, reluctant to have (much less give) an opinion. “That’s what they told me.”

  Peter looked at her smugly with his head tilted to the side. “Come on, Beth. You’re thirty-three years old. It’s time you started pissing people off. Tell me what you think.”

  She looked down at the model and analyzed it again, this time while formulating her thoughts into words. The sculpture was of a single bland building built alongside an offshoot to the road leading up to Mountain Village. The mock-up itself was meticulously crafted. Even the landscape matched that of the actual real estate site it represented. But the building and area of development it sat on appeared generic and dull. Any concept of architecture or design was lost and replaced with cheapness and simple functionality.

  Beth looked back up at her boss and instantly spoke her mind. “They’re sending you a message. They know there’s no money in this project, so why should they put more into it than they have to?”

  Peter threw his arms in the air to accentuate his frustration. “Exactly! They didn’t even try to hide it. It’s like they deliberately made it look as cheap as they possibly could.”

  Beth removed a notepad from the table and prepared to write. “You want me to put together a response?”

  Peter rubbed his chin in thought as he turned around and strolled over to the window behind him. When designing his management office, Peter made sure the conference room view purposefully overlooked Mountain Village in its entirety. Most of the personal offices had gorgeous views overlooking the natural Rockies. But to Peter, the conference room was a different story. It was a place where the future of Telluride would be decided. Where decisions would be made that could lift the resort up to the best in the world. And while doing so, he and his colleagues needed to be able to look out and see what they created as a constant reminder of what they could achieve. It was usually a feeling of pride. But today, the dense snowfall clouded the glass enough so that Peter couldn’t even see the building next door.

  He turned back around with an expression verging on defeat. “I think we’re just going to have to bite the bullet on this one.”

  Sensing that they were still far from a decision, Beth placed the notepad against her chest for the time being. “You don’t sound so sure.”

  Peter let out an exhausted sigh. “Of course I’m not. We can’t be the only resort in the world with this problem. Rich people like being catered to everywhere they go. Housekeepers. Garbage men. Busboys. Where do they all live?!”

  “You wanted a secluded getaway.”

  Peter rolled his eyes as he approached the table. “Be careful what you wish for, I guess. It’s almost comical. Multi-million dollar condos spring up around here like the plague. But ask someone to build low-income housing and its like you’re pulling teeth.”

  He leaned forward onto the table, once again staring intently at the pitiful model. “What’s our timeframe?”

  Beth flipped through the pages of the notepad, eventually coming to a stop. “In order to have the building populated by next season the contract has to be signed in two weeks.”

  Another momentary pause filled the air as the gears in Peter’s head continued to turn. He stared at the model building, examining every nook of its shape and structure. His face crept forward, getting closer and closer until he eventually slammed his hand onto the model in joyful excitement. “Screw it!”

  Beth jumped from the sudden action and watched as Peter flipped the entire set off the conference table, flinging it across the room. He then turned to her with a gigantic smile of an almost eerie thrill. “We’ll build it ourselves.”

  Although she was initially fearful by her boss’ quick outburst of destruction, his latest proclamation left her with more confusion than terror. “Excuse me?”

  Still reeling with enthusiasm, Peter threw himself down into a chair, allowing the wheels to roll back on their own. “We don’t need a builder. We can manage the whole thing while keeping it under budget. Architects, unions, engineers. Why not?”

  Unsure as to how she should respond, Beth took a deep breath before speaking. “If that’s what you think is best, Mr. Hayden.”

  With swift exactness, Peter shot his arm forward, pointing a concerned finger at his assistant. “What did I tell you, Beth? You have an opinion. Now give it to me.”

  She swallowed before taking in another long sigh. “I think Telluride is too special to let one building ruin its appeal.”

  Peter’s excitement simmered down after hearing his assistant’s thoughts. He turned his head to see the destroyed model bent into several different pieces and leaning against the far wall of the conference room. The image was a symbol for everything he had accomplished over the last few years. Telluride would only allow the best for its guests and residents regardless of social class, status or wealth. Granted it wasn’t a cheap place to be, but
he still struggled to keep it as inexpensive as possible. His wife, Rachel, was proud of him, which in turn made him proud of himself. But a line eventually had to be drawn.

  He couldn’t keep up the charade forever. At some point, financial sacrifices had to be made. And that despite its almost heavenly appeal, even Telluride wasn’t above the economic reality that came in a capitalistic society. It was just the nature of civilization.

  Peter’s head dropped into his chest as he finally submitted. “Tell the builder I approve his original budget request.”

  Hiding an excitement under the surface, Beth replied while making a note in her notepad. “What made you change your mind?”

  Peter looked up at her with a forced smile on his face. “To be honest, I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to actually have this problem. And I suppose it’s a good problem to have.”

  “I agree. It means we’re expanding.”

  Peter slowly stood up from his seat and proceeded to stroll along the large window behind him, once again staring out into the massive snowstorm. “Yes. You’re right, Beth: Telluride is special. And for a long time I’ve struggled to allow people to experience this place who otherwise wouldn’t have the chance to. But now that I’ve succeeded, I’m stuck with accommodating them all. And it will only get worse from here. Because the secret is out, and we just can’t hide the truth from people anymore.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He then paused for a moment before turning to her with a subtle smirk of sincerity. “That Telluride is where God vacations.”

  ***

  Since it started hours earlier, the storm outside had only gotten worse. And for the first time since the Cliff's opened its doors, Martin Wells considered closing the ski shop early. Well technically, he wasn't allowed to close the shop whenever he wanted. As a valet service, Martin's contract with the hotel required him to stay open during mountain hours in order to allow guests access to their equipment. But he certainly could send a lot of his employees home and just run the valet with a skeleton crew. After all, it was a firm possibility that by the time the mountain closed they could all be snowed in.