Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  The rumor mill at Peter's office had been working overtime. For the past hour or so he heard mumblings between his employees about some kind of sickness going around. But the tone in their voices wasn't of gossip but fear. His people were concerned, worried and afraid that something was going on which couldn't be controlled.

  In less than a morning, both the Mountain Village Health Clinic and Telluride's Medical Center had been packed with patients all experiencing the same symptoms. It was still too early to make any kind of executive decision regarding the safety of the community. But Peter had already made calls down to two of Telluride's councilmen to discuss their options.

  It was slowly becoming a crisis that demanded action, a situation unlike any Peter encountered during his tenure as Village Manager. He was thankful that Telluride never had to deal with a true health epidemic. Past accidents or tragedies, either in town or on the mountain, were isolated incidents that could be handled as they arose. In fact, the case-by-case issues had been taken care of so efficiently there was never any need to expand or rethink the area's emergency communication network. But the currently established system now strained under the pressure put on it by Telluride's emergency services. The small town infrastructure just wasn't equipped to coordinate and manage such a vast and complicated crisis.

  It was a frustrating situation for Peter. He needed up to date real-time information from the ground, so he ended up turning to the best source of civilian communication he could think of: TORO.

  He sat anxiously at his desk with his head buried in his hands, carefully listening to Marshal Walker's words through the FM radio. "The best thing for everyone to do right now is stay home and wait for further instructions. Between the blizzard and whatever illness has been going around, there's just no reason to take a chance by going outside."

  Georgia’s soft-spoken voice chimed in after him. "Are you issuing a statement for the mountain to shut down?"

  "No. It's still a free country and people can certainly do what they please. But I want everyone to at least be aware of the risks if they choose to do so.”

  "Thank you, Marshal. Please call back if you have any news."

  There was a click at the other end of the line, and the radio host moved on to give her own personal thoughts on the situation. "So, Telluride's a little hectic today. But I can guarantee you that once all this craziness stops I'll be the first one on the hill. Because God damn they'll be a lot of powder out there."

  Peter wasn't acquainted with Georgia personally but knew her as the station's young, eccentric DJ famous for her straightforward attitude. It was a quality that probably wouldn't get her far in big city radio but made her a favorite here in Telluride. And today the girl handled her role with professionalism and class during a pressurized situation. She hadn't played a song in almost an hour and was doing a fine job handling the overwhelming amount of calls the station had to be receiving.

  She readied herself to answer the next caller when Peter heard a solemn knock on the door. He lifted his head from his hands but kept his eyes closed from exhaustion. "Come in."

  The door clicked open, followed by Beth's voice entering the room. "Some of the employees were wondering if they could head out early. Because of the storm and all."

  Peter opened his eyes to see his assistant's head poking through the doorway with her body still in the hall. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud man's voice booming through the radio. "Hey! Ya there, lady? Can you hear me? Hello!"

  Georgia surprisingly responded to the obnoxious caller with mellow ease. "Sir, you don't need to yell. We can hear you just fine."

  But the man's voice maintained the same level of volume as he continued to speak. "Of course I have to yell. It's like fucking Beirut out here! Except, you know, for all the snow."

  "First off, sir, we don't have the censors running so please don't curse. Secondly, what's your name and what are you talking about?"

  Peter remained staring at the radio, but saw the rest of Beth’s body completely wander into the room out the corner of his eye. She then stood still in the center of the office grasping her notepad as the man's voice went on. "This is Scott Brooks. I live on the mountain, but I'm in town right now and it's like a warzone."

  Upon hearing the name, Peter sat up in his seat and listened even more intently as Georgia conducted the interview. "Can you elaborate? We just had Marshal Walker on the line and he said everything was under control."

  "Oh, he don't know shit."

  "Mr. Brooks, please. Watch your language."

  "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I'm just calling in to let you all know I'm blowing this popsicle stand."

  Georgia's voice grew short and agitated, but she remained firm as she tried to press Brooks for information. "What do you mean? Can you at least give us details?"

  "Some crazy bitch attacked my driver. Is that detail enough for ya?"

  Peter kept his eyes locked onto the radio's speaker as Scott Brooks continued his rant. But once again, he caught Beth out the corner of his eye, clutching her favorite notepad like a security blanket. "She was raving about her slut daughter banging some hillbilly last night, and then just bit Charlie on the arm like a lunatic. I swear, between the nut jobs in this town and the snowstorm of the Apocalypse, I'm jumping on a plane and getting the hell outta here."

  "No argument from me about the nut jobs. Hell, I'm one of 'em. But if you're headed to the airport, I doubt a pilot will take off in this."

  "That's what I pay them for, sweetie. To be stupid and do what I say. I'm just calling to let you know that you heard it from me first: Scott Brooks is tellin’ you to run like the wind, folks. Something's going down and I plan on climbing out while I still can."

  It sounded as if Mr. Brooks wanted to continue shouting from his soapbox, but a firm click cut him off followed by Georgia's laughing voice. "Ooooook. Guess some people just aren't cut out for life on the mountain, huh?"

  Peter briefly looked up from the radio to catch a glimpse of Beth's face. She too was staring at the radio, but with a look of anxious concern. Even as Peter continued to watch her, Beth remained fixated on the radio almost in a stare of disbelief. It wasn't until he said something that she was shocked out of her trance. "Beth, you all right?"

  She jumped slightly, surprised that she was still in her boss' office. "Sorry. What were we talking about?"

  Peter could see she was flustered, a state he wasn't used to seeing from her. "The storm. People want to go home, right?"

  Finally remembering why she knocked on the door, Beth snapped back to reality. "Oh, yeah. Do you mind?"

  Peter shook his head while casually waving her away. "Not at all. And you should, too. I'm going to stay here and try to manage this thing."

  "You sure?"

  "Absolutely. Just be safe out there."

  She smiled at him as she turned towards the door and opened it to leave. But just before heading out, Beth took one last peek inside the room and back towards the radio with a worrisome expression. The look only lasted a moment and Beth was gone before he noticed, but something struck Peter as odd. The DJ had already moved onto the next caller, but he could tell Beth was still stuck on the previous conversation. Her expression wasn't a general feeling but a targeted reaction of personal concern. And come to think of it, Peter sensed that even before he identified himself, Beth displayed a hint of recognition at the sound of Brooks's voice. The sign was nothing overtly obvious but enough for Peter to wonder if she actually knew him?

  It was a strange thought, Peter admitted to himself, however, he'd have to address the issue later. Mr. Brooks's purpose in Telluride had been a curious topic for him, but Peter had bigger things to worry about. Questioning Beth on the subject had to wait. For now, Peter's main concern was helping the sick people in his town and getting through to the other side of the storm.

  7

  The day was only several hours old and already Nellie had made it a productive morning. Utilizing the day off, sh
e shuffled around the house, cleaning and organizing with the liveliness of a woman half her age.

  During her chores, Bill sat comfortably on the couch and continued watching television straight through breakfast. A slight part of him felt bad about relaxing while his wife busily moved around. But then he remembered the truth: that they were both old and rich enough to hire a cleaning lady without feeling guilty about it.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Sheridan was never one to ask for unnecessary help when it came to work she could easily do herself. And even though she grew up a tomboy, working on the ranch and playing outside with her brothers, Nellie actually found a basic pleasure in performing what some would consider her womanly duties. But she didn't see the chores like that. And neither did Bill for that matter. She simply took pride and considered it virtuous to maintain a cleanly household.

  Currently, she happened to be taking clothes out of a dryer in the laundry room at the far side of the house. Right above the machine rested a conveniently placed window, which normally overlooked a beautiful view over the ranch's rolling hills. Although today the weather allowed for little scenery other than a dense cloud of falling snow.

  Knowing there was little to see, Nellie kept her head down and focused on her task. But from a quick glance upward, she happened to spot a fleeting, dark speck amidst the never-ending field of white. Confused and curious, the clothes slid out of her hand as Nellie slowly moved closer to the glass, hoping to confirm what she saw. A dense, white wall out the window continued to sway back and forth, but through the whirlwind of snow she caught another glimpse of the object. There was indeed something foreign on their property.

  Without any sense of urgency, Nellie left the laundry area and entered the living room. She then proceeded to pile on layers of clothing for the trek outside. "There's something in the blizzard."

  Confused, Bill leaned forward from his cushiony seat. "What do you mean?"

  Nellie turned to him as she finished buttoning up her thick, snow suit. "I mean I saw something out there."

  Bill was still unable to comprehend the situation. "So you're gonna check it out? Why?"

  "Because it's odd. And I don't like odd things surrounding my home."

  Bill didn't respond, hoping his wife would change her mind on her own. But when she failed to falter while strolling over to the front door, he gave a long sigh and reluctantly prepared to stand. "Well, I'm not gonna let you go out there by yourself. Give me a minute and I'll go with ya.”

  But Nellie's hand was already pulling on the doorknob. "Just meet me out there. And hurry up."

  She could sense her husband wanted to continue his protests, so Nellie quickly slipped outside and shut the door behind her. She was immediately met with a blunt force of wind and snow smacking against her face. The tough, old woman prepared herself for harsh weather but was still caught off guard by the powerful bombardment of cold. Forever refusing to submit to the elements, Nellie responded to the chill by simply bringing her neck gaiter over her mouth. She then pulled the top of her jacket closer together by hand and fearlessly ventured out into the snow.

  Mrs. Sheridan began her trek by circling around to the backside of the home where the laundry room was located. Despite knowing the ranch like the back of her hand, Nellie still had to use the house as a point of reference when traversing through the storm. Otherwise, there was a good chance vertigo could have set in and she might have lost her way.

  Once in position, Nellie tried to recreate her point of view through the window and was almost surprised to see the speck bigger than she thought. In fact, the black object had now taken shape to form the outline of a humanly figure. Whatever it happened to be was still too far away to distinguish its features, but Nellie continued to move closer, never wavering from her direct path forward.

  Slowly but surely the blurry figure, only visible intermittently through the falling snow, started to come into focus. First a ski jacket. Then pants. And finally Nellie could see a fluffy trapper hat and goggles on top of the person's head. It was hard to make out under all the layers, but by the way the figure moved Nellie assumed it to be a man.

  Besides the entire scene being strange itself, the most peculiar aspect of the sight were the man's legs. Or more specifically, how he moved his legs when walking. With the snow almost passed her shin, Nellie was forced to put an abundant amount of effort into every step she took. She moved a lot slower than she wanted to, but the man continued on towards her without missing a beat. Instead of lifting his foot up and over the snow, he tread through it like butter. It was only when the stranger came within a hundred feet of Nellie that she noticed a pair of snowshoes strapped to his feet as well as a five-day Telluride lift pass attached to his jacket.

  The man was a tourist. And by the looks of it, a lost one at that. Nellie's ranch was nowhere near the resort or any hiking trail offered to guests. In fact, she couldn't remember a time any visitor wandered all the way out to her house. Let alone during a blizzard.

  Having discovered what her mysterious object was, Nellie stopped wading through the snow and called out to the man. "Good mornin'. How'd you get all the way out here?"

  She received no response, and the man continued his steady march forward. Nellie thought she had spoken with a voice loud enough to carry through the whistling wind of the storm but, nevertheless, tried to contact him once more. "You lost, mister? It's too dangerous to be out here alone."

  Again, the man issued no reply, but to Nellie's surprise, actually looked to be picking up speed. From a slow trudge, his feet sped up to a swift shuffle. The man's snowshoes easily parted the path ahead, and Nellie was forced to set her feet back in a defensive position. "Hey! This is private property. I'll help you but you gotta stay where you are."

  The vague warning did little to deter the man, who had been steadily picking up speed. His arms and body began pumping to match the intensity of his legs. And before Nellie realized it, the man was in an all out sprint charging towards her. It wasn't much of a sprint, seeing as how he still had to move through the high snow in a cumbersome pair of snowshoes. But the sight was enough for Nellie to realize she was in danger.

  As quickly as she could, Nellie removed one of her gloves and began fumbling with her jacket's zipper hoping to get it open. "Stop! Right now!"

  But before she could reach inside, the charging man was right in front of her, ready to attack. Before their collision, the man's neck lifted up bringing his face to within inches of his victim’s. And in that brief instant, what Nellie saw brought back a vivid memory of her brother's final moments.

  Pale white and filled with rage, her attacker's aged face resembled a maniacal creature far from human. Leering like a savage old beast, the man stared down at her with bloodshot eyes. His mouth, outlined by a pair of dry, cracked lips, opened wide unleashing a ghastly hiss of terror.

  In the instant before they connected, Nellie lifted her gloved hand and managed to stop the lunatic from sinking his teeth into the small opening of skin around her face. But the hard contact forced them both to fall backwards into the snow and roll around for position.

  Their struggle ended with Nellie's attacker on top, and she was forced to push back against the man's chest as he continued his attempt at tearing away her flesh with his teeth. Nellie's bare hand, now covered in snow, burned from the cold, but she forced the pain aside, using every ounce of strength she had to keep the man’s mouth at bay.

  The stranger continued to bite and chomp his teeth down at her, but the hiss of his attacks was interrupted by a loud yell. "Get off of her!"

  Nellie's fight suddenly stopped as Bill came full speed at the man, tackling him back down into the snow. The two men, both old enough to be grandparents, tumbled over flat onto their backs. His muscles not what they used to be, Bill was forced to take a deep breath and recoup from the blow. The crazed stranger, on the other hand, pounced to his feet right on top of his attacker. The man immediately shot his arms down, grabbing Bill's head with his
frosted gloves. He then proceeded to lift Bill up off the snowy field by the temples and squeeze with all his might.

  Bill let out a grunt, trying to fight his opponent's grasp when a loud bang rang through the air. The deranged man released his hold of Bill's head as he violently flew back into the snow.

  With his mouth dropped open in surprise, Bill turned to his wife and found her aiming a revolver in her bare hand straight to where the attacker used to stand. "Eleanor, you brought a gun?"

  Calm and confident, Nellie slowly lowered the weapon and approached the man's body in the snow. "I saw a strange object outside our home in a snowstorm. Of course I brought a gun."

  Bill took another moment to recover before standing completely and joining his wife's side. Together they looked over the body of their strange visitor, who now lay lifeless, submerged into the snow. Another few moments went by in silence before Bill finally placed a caring hand onto his wife's shoulder. "You OK?"

  She answered him while still leaning over the corpse. "I'm fine. He just...reminded me of Danny."

  Bill released his hand from her shoulder and turned back towards the house. "I know. That's what worries me."

  Nellie kept her eyes locked onto the man, staring deep into his frozen face of ferocious terror. "You think there's gonna be more?"

  "Maybe. I don't know. Either way, we should probably head into town and tell someone. After all, you did just kill a man."

  A slight smirk lifted itself onto Nellie's face as she turned and started walking back to the house ahead of her husband. "Fine. But maybe we should both bring guns this time…just in case.”

  ***

  He'd been sick more times than he could possibly count, but Joey Fallon never felt anything in his life remotely like this. With his body scrunched together into the corner of the chairlift, Joey tried his best to keep the wild snowfall from penetrating into his jacket. Although he couldn't imagine why he didn't just take the whole thing off and throw it away into the breeze. Ever since they got off the gondola he'd felt as if his whole body was burning up inside. And he had a continuous stream of sweat building up against his thermal underwear to prove it.