Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  Not that all of them would necessarily heed his advice anyway. Some of his more crazy employees (snowboarders mostly) might take the opportunity to hit the mountain and enjoy what weathermen were now calling the storm of the century. Forecasts predicted the blizzard to continue until late afternoon, and if someone wanted to risk their life that was their prerogative. All Martin cared about was giving them the option of safety.

  But before even tackling that notion, Martin had to make sure the employees he needed to stay were even functional. Currently, there was only one local kid working the valet. In the past, Martin was always more comfortable hiring out of towners that came in for the season. They worked hard because there was a point to their existence in Telluride: to ski. But for locals, this place was home. The winter would come and go and they would still be here, waiting for the next batch of tourists to cater to.

  But the chamber of commerce had come down on Mountain Village resorts to hire more local help. And so Martin filled his store with young kids who had nothing better to do than be resentful of the rich vacationers they worked for. And Johnny Prescott was no exception.

  He did his job well enough and put a smile on his face for the customers. But Martin could see some type of chip on his shoulder.

  Johnny wasn't always like that. Having shopped at the store in the past, Martin actually knew the boy for several years. He grew up snowboarding regularly, but the delinquent antics of juvenile youth quickly turned the boy from an occasional rascal into a troublesome slacker. Martin had his suspicions that a change in the boy's behavior came from his crush on the Miller's girl. But there really wasn't anything for Martin to do about it. Teenage boys were going to chase teenage girls. Martin was convinced that sooner or later Miss Miller was going to be the end of that kid, but it was up to young Mr. Prescott to figure that out for himself.

  From the front of the store Martin walked across the retail floor and was a little disappointed only seeing one customer browsing through the merchandise. During a storm such as this, there was a fifty-fifty chance the resort's guests would take advantage of the fresh snow on the mountain or opt to stay warm inside. It would seem that today almost everyone decided to brave the cold and head out onto the slopes. Besides those who valeted their equipment, the store just wasn't getting any floor traffic. It was another factor to why Martin considered sending his employees home early.

  Without any customers to help, the sales people alternated between gossiping amongst themselves and pretending to be busy. Like most store owners, Martin would prefer not to pay them for doing nothing. But once again, that decision was going to be made based on Johnny Prescott's reliability.

  Martin made it to the other end of the store and slipped behind the counter into the valet storage area in the back. Contrary to the fancy decor of the retail side of the store, the back resembled a cramped warehouse lined with a seemingly endless rack of skis and snowboards.

  As he entered the room, Martin found no sign of his young employee. And it wasn't until he walked through the aisles of ski equipment that he spotted the boy sitting down against the far wall of the space. Martin’s first reaction was a mix of anger, frustration and disappointment. But then he remembered that the boy didn't look well when he arrived for work hours earlier and decided to give Johnny the benefit of the doubt.

  Martin stayed at the opposite end of the room and called out to the boy, who could've very well been sleeping with his head slumped down to his chest. "Hello? John? Is it the middle of a workday or nap time?"

  The youngster failed to move, and Martin was now convinced he was sleeping. "Mr. Prescott, I'm talking to you."

  Again, the store owner failed to receive a response. He started to approach the boy, moving forward through the aisles of skis. As he got closer, Martin noticed that despite wearing a jacket in the heated warehouse Johnny's body still shivered, almost uncontrollably. As a valet attendant, Johnny would be exposed to the cold during his runs outside to grab and return equipment, but judging by the white tinge to his skin, Martin thought the boy had to be freezing.

  Upon reaching his sickly employee, Martin knelt down in front of him in a final attempt to gain his attention. "Hey! I need to know if you're OK?"

  Johnny slowly looked up, revealing two beady red, bloodshot eyes accentuated by a pale white face. "I'm not doing so good, boss."

  If this was the first time he'd seen this, Martin might've had a little sympathy. But Johnny had come into work hungover before. "I can't deal with you like this, John. Not today."

  Martin could see Johnny use every ounce he had just to sit up and stand from off the floor. "I need help back here. Where's Paul?"

  "Couldn't make it in. You're all alone. So either suck it up or I gotta teach one of the salesmen to do your job. But if I do that, you might as well go home and not come back."

  Shy and unable to look his boss in the face, Johnny kept his head down as he spoke. "Why are you such a jerk?"

  Martin was furious at the show of disrespect, and by a punk kid no less. He lifted his finger and pointed it down at his employee in an attempt to belittle him. "Hey! You don't get to talk to an employer like that, young man!"

  Just then, a sudden burst of energy overcame Johnny as he jumped into Martin's face, snapping back at him with an unchecked temper. "Then how about fuck you!? Is that better, asshole?!"

  For a moment, Martin was struck speechless. He thought the boy to be lazy and ignorant, but this was a side of him he'd never seen in all the years he knew him. Johnny glared at him with eyes that spoke volumes of hatred when the boy had never before shown the slightest hint of anger.

  In a slow and steady motion, Johnny turned his back on his boss and now leaned against the rack of skis that was behind him. It was a show of defiance that Martin never expected. He considered the boy apathetic, but never anticipated him to express an outward anger of rage. That kind of behavior couldn’t be tolerated, and Johnny Prescott needed to learn his place.

  Martin took a deep breath to compose himself before conveying a voice of authority. "You think this is a joke? That you have a right to be here? This job is a privilege, son. And the next time you..."

  In one swift, fluid motion, Johnny spun around, swinging a ski pole and slamming it into the side of Martin's head. The man's sentence was immediately cut off as he fell back and into the metal ski racks surrounding him. The shelves toppled over, clanging together as they smashed into each other and onto the floor.

  Dazed and disoriented, Martin struggled to lift himself off the uncomfortable pile of ski equipment. But he managed to gather enough energy to look up and see the deranged look on Johnny Prescott's face. The boy stood over his employer, panting heavily and baring his teeth like a crazed animal. And for the first time in his life, Martin felt true, unencumbered fear.

  A series of stomps could be heard just outside the door. And a moment later, three store employees entered the storage room, stumbling upon the horrific scene. They stood in shock, unable to act or even speak. Still holding the weapon, Johnny leered over his boss, never bothering to look up at his coworkers who entered the room. And before Martin could utter another word, Johnny quickly lifted the pole and thrust the tip downward, impaling his boss in the chest. Blood spurted out from the wound in every direction, and the three employees screamed in unison as they stumbled back out of the room.

  Snapping into action, Johnny leaped over the bloody body in front of him, chasing after his colleagues in a feral craze. With a sudden swiftness, he quickly caught a woman by the shirt as she barely reached the door, and Johnny continued her momentum forward, slamming her head into the store's counter. The sheer force of the blow caved in the front of her skull, and she immediately dropped to the floor, her head covered in a bloody mess.

  Now, out of the back and into the main floor of the store, Johnny wasted no time hopping the counter and easily grabbing the next fleeing person he saw. In an instant, the ravenous boy's teeth sunk into the man's neck, tearing away
flesh and skin with a single bite.

  The action only took a moment, but it was long enough to allow the rest of the customers and store employees time to escape. Now covered in blood and bits of human tissue, Johnny dropped the body to the ground and looked up to find the store completely empty and devoid of life. The boy snarled his teeth and growled like a rabid animal craving for its prey. And then he once again pounced forward, exiting the store in search of his next victim.

  6

  It didn't take long for the calls to start coming in. But not surprisingly, Chris actually expected it to be a busy day. He knew the mountain wasn't going to close unless it was literally the end of the world. And given that people just loved to disregard blizzard warnings, he was undoubtedly going to have his hands full. But then again, he would probably be out there enjoying himself too if he didn't have to work. So he couldn't exactly blame them.

  The storm had just started picking up when dispatch reported a middle-aged woman down on a Blue Square run, the designation for an intermediate trail. Still working through their second round of morning coffee, Chris and Phillip threw on their gear, jumped on their skis and took off down the mountain. As the veteran patroller, Phil took the med pack and left Chris to pull the stretcher sled behind him. Normally that wouldn't be such a big deal. Chris had taken the sled a hundred times before, but racing down to a patient while having a barrage of thick snowflakes pounding your goggles made maneuvering the cumbersome contraption all the more difficult.

  Chris followed closely behind Phil, who tore through the mountain like he knew it better than his own home. And in less than a minute they arrived at the specified location. At first, Chris was concerned they weren't going to be able to spot their patient through the dense snowfall, but the heavy set woman's lime green jacket and hat made her easy enough to spot. It also didn't hurt that the woman's constant moaning drew the two patrollers to her like a wailing siren.

  As they got closer, Chris noticed a tall man in skis standing next to the woman. He looked down at her with the concerned expression common amongst family members of a victim, but the young ski patroller couldn't figure out why. As far as he could tell the woman just fell over and bumped her knee. She was definitely holding her leg as if it hurt, but it was hardly an injury that required a call to the ski patrol.

  Hoping for some type of exciting trauma to treat, Chris immediately felt annoyed by the sight of the woman. But as much as he hated it, she was now their responsibility, which was all the more frustrating when there would soon be more serious injuries requiring their assistance. Nevertheless, the patroller remained professional and would never abandon a patient.

  After working together for several seasons, Chris and Phillip reacted to the scene without a word of coordination. Phillip bent down alongside the woman to examine her injury while Chris readied the sled next to her. Through the whiz of the bullet-like snow, Chris could hear Phillip begin the appropriate questioning. But their patient just continued her perpetual moaning.

  Chris tried to block out the whiny, annoying noise, but she went on and on like a never-ending broken record. It was absolutely distracting, and what bothered Chris the most was that it wasn't a cry of pain but of illness. They were definitely called to the scene because she fell, but the woman sounded like she had a stomach ache more than an injured leg.

  The noise caused Chris to finally turn his head and get a good look at the woman. It was then that he realized something was definitely off. Their patient's face was pale white, just a shade darker than the snow around her scarf. Her eyes were closed and her chapped lips separated just enough to let out the agonizing moan, which at this point became like nails on a chalkboard. Phil did the best he could to treat the leg and prepare her for transport, but the woman rolled back and forth uncontrollably, like some force was preventing her from sitting still.

  As he put his finishing touches on the sled, Chris could tell Phillip wasn't getting much of a response from the woman and started questioning the male bystander. "Are you related?"

  "Yes. She's my wife."

  Chris took a break from the sled to look up at the man, who still looked down at the old patroller treating his wife with grave concern. "What happened?"

  The worried man covered his mouth with a gloved hand before speaking. "I don't know. She said she wasn't feeling well on the lift so we were going to head back to the room. But on the way down she was swerving, could barely ski straight and then, all of a sudden, wham! She went down and grabbed her knee."

  Chris assumed it was some type of food poisoning and went back to preparing the sled. "Does she have any allergies? Taking medication? Past medical history?"

  "No."

  "Nothing that could cause her to feel ill?"

  "No. She woke up fine this morning."

  With the sled all ready, Chris moved over to Phil, who was also prepared to move the woman over to the carriage. "What do you think?"

  The old patroller shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Her knee is bruised but not bad. Looks like she's about to pass out, though."

  "Stomach bug?"

  "Not like any I've seen. Skin's pale and diaphoretic but burning up. Her breathing rate's low but heart rate's up. It's like her body wants to go into shock but doesn't know how."

  Chris looked the woman up and down and started regretting his earlier thought. She really was sick and needed their help. "Well, let's get her down to the doc and see what he thinks."

  Without speaking another word, Chris and Phillip worked together to carefully lift the sickly skier and place her into the sled. Then, with her husband anxiously waiting by, Phil proceeded to strap the woman down, taking the time to make sure each band was secure.

  As he did, Chris allowed his own attention to wander. Although fairly ill, the skier was by no means critically injured or even seriously hurt. They would just be giving her a free ride down the mountain to see a physician. In terms of intensity, the call turned out to be fairly routine if not flat out boring.

  But while looking around at the mountain surrounding him, Chris’s curiosity started to pique. Besides a couple of guests bent over in unusual positions by the trees, several other skiers and boarders passed by him acting similarly to how the man had described his wife. Swerving and teetering back and forth, they almost looked like they were in a daze or trance. It wasn't everyone, but almost half the people Chris could see through the storm barely managed to keep themselves upright. One woman skied down the mountain hunched over completely, as if about to leave a trail of vomit behind her while several others continually fell only to get back up and fall again.

  Chris had been skiing long enough to spot a beginner, but none of the behavior he saw resembled inexperience. There was something else causing these people to act so strangely. Possibly the storm? The blizzard was surely affecting ski conditions, but not like this. Maybe there really was some type of stomach virus going around. But how could it infect so many people so fast?

  Chris's mind continued to flip through explanations when a female voice screeched through the radio, suddenly breaking his train of thought. "Outpost Three. You read?"

  Chris reflexively clicked the radio strapped to his shoulder harness. "Outpost Three on call, dispatch. Patient's almost ready for transport. We'll check back in when she's delivered."

  "Great. But ski school instructor Sarah Warren just reported a disturbance at Joseph’s."

  Upon hearing her name, Phil paused just long enough to look up at his young partner and gauge the expression on his face. Chris looked back at him curiously concerned yet steady. After all, a disturbance could be anything. There was no sense getting worked up without knowing the details.

  Chris took a deep breath in and pressed down on the radio once more. "What ‘d she say?"

  "Couldn't exactly tell. She was cutting out, and it was very loud in the background."

  Phil noticed the look of worry on Chris's face grow. He quickly finished strapping the woman in and responded to
the dispatcher on his own radio. "Who's taking the call?"

  "No one right now. That's why I’m contacting you. Everyone's out including the off duty reserves. I don't know if it’s the storm or what but we've been getting swamped."

  Chris and Phil once again exchanged a silent glance that communicated volumes. They could also sense the husband's eyes patiently leering at them. He could see them paying more attention to the radio than his wife, and Phillip, being the veteran patroller that he was, didn't want to give the man any excuse to report them.

  The old timer quickly threw his med pack around his shoulders and took position in front of the sled. "Chris, head down to the snowmobile dock and ride one up. Shouldn’t take you long."

  Then, before the man had any chance to chime in, Phillip turned to the husband. "You ready, sir?"

  Confused but still overwhelmed with concern, the man just nodded his head. Phil then turned back around and pointed his skis down the mountain. "Good. Stay behind me."

  Phil pushed himself downward with the sled right behind him and the man following closely by. Chris watched them for as long as he could before they disappeared through the thick cloud of snowfall. Once they were out of sight, he reported back into his radio. "We'll take it, dispatch. Just let us drop off our current charge and we'll be on our way."

  He then hopped up, spun his skis in the opposite direction and pushed off down to the other side of the run.

  ***