Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  But then, after working through the rising fury in his heart, Chris found the true source of his anger and confronted it by repeating the truth: Sarah was gone and she wasn't coming back. It wasn't this boy's fault. In fact, saving him was Sarah’s dying wish. And as a patroller, that was a job he felt more than capable of accomplishing.

  Chris examined the boy, whose neck seemed to be retreating inside the oversized jacket, and spoke with a ski patroller's tone of concern. "Are you cold?"

  "My fingers...a little."

  Ryan lifted his arms and poking out through the large jacket’s sleeves were the tips of his tiny, bare fingers, shivering and red. Now with a patient in front of him, Chris's mind snapped into gear as he pulled the long sleeves over the boy's hand and began gently blowing into them.

  He then rolled the sleeve up and held Ryan's hands into his chest, shielding them from the cold. "Look. I know you're probably scared. To be honest, so am I. But I'm going to get you home. I promise."

  Ryan took a deep breath, absorbing his protector's words for a moment before speaking. "What's going on? Why did everyone go crazy?"

  "I don't know. And I'm sorry you had to see all that stuff. But we can't think about it now. Just gotta keep moving."

  Chris then moved his hands over to Ryan's shoulders and held the boy tight while staring deeply into his eyes. "I need you to be strong and watch my back. Like a partner. Think you can do that?"

  Ryan swallowed deeply while lifting his chin stern and proud. He then gave a firm nod and smiled. "You can count on me."

  Chris smiled in return and bent his shoulder down to Ryan's level. "Jump on."

  Ryan got himself resituated onto Chris's back, and the two continued on through the densely packed trees.

  Their pace had slowed considerably since they first entered the woods. Enough so that Chris technically wasn't even skiing anymore. He simply pushed off as he swung his body around from tree to tree, periodically forcing himself to almost step through the frozen snow because he lacked the momentum.

  It didn't take long before the forest opened up slightly into a peacefully serene ski run amidst the trees. The wooded area still had plenty of pines scattered throughout, but the space was more expansive than the closely packed route they just emerged from.

  A trickle of snowfall made its way down through the tree canopy and sprinkled enough to create a fresh foot of snow down on the slope. It was more than where they were but still considerably less than the blizzard raging in the open air. The trail was obviously a designated run listed on the map which Chris had long since memorized, and he sought it out as the perfect pipeline to bring them down the mountain shielded from both the storm and any unwelcome stragglers.

  Before dropping down into the run, Chris gave a gleeful smile at the fresh untouched snow before him. He then took a deep breath and gave Ryan a slight nod as he bent his knees preparing to embark. With the grace of an Olympian, Chris pushed off and soared straight, building up a healthy speed right out of the gate.

  Moving at a brisk yet steady pace, Chris weaved carelessly through the spread out trees. The skiable landscape was far smoother on his legs than the rough rocks and untreated terrain from before. After the first couple turns, Chris actually found himself enjoying the ride down. The hidden run naturally acted as an isolated safe haven from the blizzard, and the snowfall that did make it through covered the ground in several inches of powder, allowing Chris to glide down the hill as if it were a cloud. For a moment, the patroller seemed lost in his own world, transported away from the nightmare of the past hour to a simpler time skiing as a kid on the small mountains of the Catskills back East.

  He was so enthralled into the ride that he barely noticed the slim figure staggering out from the woods below them on the opposite side of the run. Reacting purely on instinct, Chris skidded to an immediate halt and just stared the person down. Ryan's head popped up from the sudden stop and looked in the same direction. The boy then let out an audible gasp right into Chris’s ear.

  He didn't quite share the boy's fear but was admittedly wary about seeing another human being. Whoever it was looked to be frantically scampering as fast as they could, tripping and clawing their way forward in the process. Chris couldn't tell from a distance if the person was deranged or just panicked. And after narrowly escaping a murderous mob, he wasn't taking any chances.

  He bent down, lowering Ryan off of his shoulders and plopping him into the snow. "Wait here."

  Without protest, the boy sat up from his seat in the snow and watched as his protector slowly skied over to the figure. As he drew closer, the mystery person came into focus as a young teenage girl fleeing for her life. From the look of panic screaming across her face, Chris could tell she wasn’t so much running towards him as she was running, or more precisely, limping away. The girl fled in such distress that it was hard to notice, but Chris’s medical eye caught onto an injured leg that kept her from continuously running on her feet.

  Still uneasy about the previous attack, the patroller continued to approach the scene with caution. Upon finally reaching what he considered a safe distance to evaluate the situation, Chris came to a stop and called out to the girl. “Hello. Are you OK?”

  Her response came with a strain in her voice that developed after a bout of heavy crying. “Help…please!”

  Hearing words further relaxed Chris towards her innocence. Of the many psychotic ravagers he encountered, none of them had spoken. It was a good sign that he had actually found another survivor who could use his help.

  But no sooner after realizing that, Chris spotted what she was actually running from. Up into the woods behind her emerged a man running towards the girl at a dead sprint. Chris saw the man flailing his arms and grasping ferociously in front of him, recognizing it as the same form as that of the crazed tormentors that chased him from Joseph’s.

  Chris’s eyes immediately shot open, and his muscles kicked into gear, hopping from his position straight into a downhill dash.

  Seeing the patroller in his red jacket coming towards her, the girl’s face lit up with a joy of salvation. But as Chris approached, bent over, and picked up speed, he showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, he wasn’t even looking in her direction. His attention was focused towards her attacker, who had continued his sprint through the trees and was a step away from diving head first for his prey.

  Hoping for a miracle, the girl made a weak attempt to reach out for her rescuer. But her arm fell short of grabbing onto Chris’s jacket as he passed her by.

  Instead, his collision course with her pursuer ended with a bang as he lowered his shoulder and crashed straight into the man’s chest. Chris’s momentum sent the couple flying back, tumbling through the snow head over heels down the mountain. Entwined as one with his foe, Chris’s awkward contact with the ground caused his ski bindings to release, sending his two skis soaring in opposite directions. The pair of twisted adversaries bounced once through the lush powder covering the ground before flipping over again and making hard contact with one of the run’s many trees.

  The couple broke apart and landed separately, but only one of them showed signs of trauma from the incident. Chris let out a scream and sporadic grunts of pain while his counterpart only responded to the crash by slowly staggering to his feet.

  Chris looked back up the mountain to see the speechless girl watching on, her jaw dropped open in a state of shock. Further up, Chris also saw Ryan sliding down the slope on his backside, carefully using his ski boots to control his speed.

  With a renewed sense of courage, the boy fearlessly continued his descent, passing by the unsuspecting girl with a wave. “Hi there.”

  He continued on ahead of her and approached the scene without slowing down.

  Chris, still struggling with the pain, reached his arm out towards the boy, signaling him to keep back. “Ryan, no! Stay up there!”

  Ryan spread his legs, dug his boots into the ground and pointed behind Chris. “Don’t look at
me! Watch him!”

  Confused, the patroller looked backwards to see the man back on his feet and lunging down at him. With a snarl of a look burned into his face, the man grabbed Chris by the coat and lifted him up off the ground with ease. Then, as if he was playing with a ragdoll, the raged man twisted his body around and slammed Chris’s back into the tree they previously hit.

  Chris, once again, roared in pain but regained his senses enough to shoot his hands out and stop the crazed man from digging his gnashing teeth into his face. The man fought back, and Chris could feel the strength in his own arms slowly giving out. He couldn’t hold his attacker back forever.

  In a last ditch effort, Chris lifted his legs up and kicked them out, breaking the man’s hold from his jacket. The stranger quickly recovered though and lunged again, only this time, Chris was ready enough to duck and scramble through the deep, powdery snow away from him. But the attacker was relentless, his face sneering back at Chris with a visage of pure hatred. The man lunged again. And again. Each time Chris frantically dodging away, coming within inches of falling back into the man’s grasp.

  Chris could feel fatigue catching up with him. The cold air burned his lungs, and his muscles screamed out to rest. He fought the urge to give in when he heard his name called out from above. It was Ryan. He had, once again, made his way down the mountain and, this time, held Chris’s bright orange ski in his hands.

  Without another word between them, Ryan tossed Chris the weapon, who instantly turned around and met the ferocious man’s next lunge with a hard ski to the abdomen. He stumbled back, creating enough space between the two of them for Chris to wind the ski up and hit his attacker square in the temple. The man rocked to the side, dazed but not down. Chris quickly wound up and struck again to the other side. The man staggered back once more and, this time, dropped into the snow.

  Without any other thought coursing through his mind, Chris lifted the ski over his head and smacked it down hard upon his enemy. He then lifted it up and brought it down again and again, repeatedly whacking the flat fiberglass of the ski across the man’s body. Each time he felt his muscles burn uncontrollably, but he ignored it and fought through the pain until he finally lifted the ski above his head and drove it downward, spiking the curved tip through the man’s body like a spear.

  Blood oozed out from within the man’s ski coat, and, for a moment, Chris left his hands on the unlikely weapon while catching his breath. His mind raced with strange thoughts of guilt and remorse. After the girl in Joseph’s, this was now the second human being he had killed with his own hands. Hands he had dedicated to helping people and saving lives. But his life was in danger. What else could he have done? The man was going to kill that girl…the girl!

  Chris’s body spun around, and he quickly climbed up the run on his hands and knees. His attention was focused on the girl, who still sat speechless, but he placed a brief hand of gratitude on Ryan’s shoulder as he passed him by. “Thanks for the assist.”

  Chris caught a brief glimpse of Ryan’s smile as the boy turned his body and followed him uphill. Together they reached the traumatized girl, who in a trance stared past them at the lifeless body down by the tree. Chris removed his gloves and slowly brought his bare yet comforting hands to the girl’s face. “Hey. Look at me.”

  Her eyes moved over and met with her rescuer’s, but she still retained the same blank expression as he questioned her. “I’m Chris. Can you tell me your name?”

  She barely spread apart her trembling lips to speak. “St… Stephanie.”

  Chris nodded his head and formed a smile of his own. “Good. What happened? How did you get here?”

  “My brother…he went crazy on the chairlift. I had to jump and then it just…it fell over. The whole thing fell over.”

  “You jumped off the chair?”

  The girl gave a slow and steady nod as a response. It was then that Chris remembered the call from dispatch. Chair six went down, and the mention of her brother had confirmed Chris’s fears. Whatever happened at Joseph’s wasn’t an isolated incident. These wild, ravenous things were everywhere. It was a miracle the girl was still alive.

  Remembering her injury, Chris shifted his attention down to her leg, carefully examining it through her snow pants. As he did, Ryan waved, staring at the girl with a shy smile. “Hi. I’m Ryan.”

  Her blank stare moved over to him with the same emotionless expression, but that didn’t deter the boy from continuing his gleeful smirk.

  A moment later, Chris looked back, ending the awkward greeting. “It’s just a contusion. You’re lucky it’s snowing as hard as it is. Must have broken your fall.”

  The girl swallowed at the news, and her eyes, once again, shifted past the patroller to look downhill. Chris noticed her gaze wasn’t focused on him and followed it down to see the corpse with the impaled ski still sticking out from its chest. “You know him?”

  He looked back at the girl, who didn’t falter or break her concentrated stare. Her eyes remained locked forward on the dead body for several silent moments before her trembling lips opened again and muttered just under her breath. “He…he’s my dad.”

  Chris’s heart immediately sank into his chest. Now he was just as speechless as the girl, unable to give her any words of comfort or condolence. But what was he supposed to do? The man was going to kill her. That much was certain. But does that make the pain he caused any more bearable?

  Ryan’s cheery smile had suddenly vanished from his face, opting to lower his eyes shamefully rather than make eye contact with the shell-shocked girl. Chris continued to look at her blank expression but didn’t say a thing. There was nothing to say. He just sat silently looking at her, waiting for a response.

  Her eyes remained staring at the body when Chris could see them slowly start to quiver. Little by little, small flutters in her eyelids gave birth to tears until the girl’s face gave way to an avalanche of sadness. The emotional grief rocked her body and she fell forward into the patroller’s arms. He instinctively opened them to catch the weeping girl but didn’t have any clue as to what he should do next. How does one console the daughter of the man you just murdered? You don’t. Regardless of the situation, there were no words worth mentioning. So he simply wrapped his arms around her and let the girl cry into his shoulder as the flurries from the blizzard raging outside the forest continued to slowly find their way down on top of them.

  Part II

  Whiteout

  13

  Like any ski resort, Telluride considers winter its busiest season. But it’s during the spring and summer months when the mountain reveals itself as the beautiful paradise it is.

  The snow slowly melts and enters into a series of continuous streams that cut through trees reborn under spring sunshine. Crystal clear water trickles its way down the mountainside, glistening over giant rocks, tiny pebbles and gravel trails in its path. The flowing rivers and whistling wind merge together to form a soothing backdrop for the rhythmic music of the region's chirping birds.

  For several months out of the year, a zoo of wildlife claims the mountain's snowless trails as their own. Deer, beavers, coyotes and bears endlessly roam the pastures of Telluride's rolling hills. Fearless and enduring eagles of American legend soar gracefully overtop wandering hikers and tourists. Warmed by a burning sun, the thin summer air fills those who breathe it in with a crisp rush of pure vitality.

  Bright flowers unlike any on Earth bloom and flourish, covering the mountain's steep stretches of land with life and color. Lush meadows of green fill the canyon's entrance and greet the valley's visitors with tall grass swaying to the breeze. A large sun, strong and proud, reigns overhead amidst an eternal sheet of cloudless blue sky. And from the top of the mountain, one could see the Rockies’s tall, roaring peaks vanish into the horizon from every direction.

  Although not as busy, Telluride still sees visitors during this majestic unthawing. It’s impossible to keep such unrefined beauty a secret. Perfect for a postcard, t
he quaint, old mining town represents the epitome of nostalgic relaxation. A glorious utopia of wilderness and nature.

  But this so-called “offseason” produces a different aura in the atmosphere than the frigid cold of the ski months. A warmth that resonates not just from the summer air but from being engulfed by the raw magnificence of such an alluring valley. It’s lively. Jubilant. And above all, free from the peace of death that follows in winter’s wake.

  ***

  Georgia woke to a strong taste of bitter building against her lips. Next she felt a hard, cold surface pressing against her face. The young DJ wondered why her head wasn't snuggled comfortably in between her pillows. And then, when she finally opened her eyes, Georgia saw that Malcolm's body, crushed beneath the heavy frame of the computer server, started to ooze a pool of blood, which had made its way into her mouth.

  She quickly pressed off the tile floor, repeatedly spitting a mixture of blood and saliva off her tongue. After a few quick, nervous breaths of panic, the terrified girl slowed her breathing and calmed her nerves. The immediate danger that forced her into this situation had receded, and she was finally safe. At least for the moment.

  With that realization, she summed up the courage to slowly look over to Malcolm's lifeless body. Or at least what was left of it. Over the pool of blood that had settled into the floor was a hand that looked strangely propped up at an awkward angle. Following the hand's arm back to its body, Georgia could barely see the shoulder it was connected to. Whatever remained of Malcolm's torso and head (if they were even intact) was hidden beneath the massive steel frame of the computer server.

  The frightened girl let out a sorrowful gasp at the grizzly sight, but she couldn't put a finger on the exact emotion it came from. Was it that her friend was dead? The gruesome nature of his death? Or the fact that she was the one who caused it?