Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  Rolling and lunging his body forward, Charlie struggled to sit up in the seat. "Maybe you could use some humility."

  "What are you, my therapist now? I pay you to look scary. Not give me advice."

  As their conversation heated up, the plane continued to slowly putter towards the back of the runway. "Money. It’s always about the money with you. Never about the people you give it to."

  Scott's eyes drifted out the window to see the horde of workers who helped clear the snow for him standing idly by. "Exactly. And if you want to keep being one of those people then it'll behoove you to shut the fuck up."

  "No! You shut the fuck up!"

  Having finally reached the beginning of the runway, the plane began to turn around and face out towards the valley's entrance. "Relax, Charlie. I'm kidding. Don't get so stressed out. You need to take it easy."

  "Why? Because you know what's best for me?"

  Despite trying his best to listen to his employee, Scott's concentration on Charlie was broken by a loud exchange between Janet and Eric in the cockpit. The engine revved up, and so Scott assumed they were just doing their final checks before takeoff. But the two pilots were louder than normal and drew his attention. "What's with the commotion up there?"

  Whatever it was didn't stop the plane from starting its takeoff. The jet rumbled forward, slowly gaining speed down the runway.

  But Charlie was too focused in on Scott to take notice. "Don't worry about them! Worry about me! Because I'm the only one who gives a damn about you. I used to think you actually cared about me the same way. But I'm just a goon to you, aren't I? Another tool you use up and throw away. Well, I've had enough of your...!"

  "Ahhhhh!"

  After a loud scream from the cockpit, the plane suddenly jerked left then right, continuing its speedy approach down the runway. With the ground bumping and swerving, Scott struggled to stand out of his seat and look towards the front of the plane.

  But he eventually managed to peek over Charlie's shoulder and see Janet lunged on top of the avionics with her jaw latched firmly onto Captain Hitchens's throat. "Well, this can't be good."

  Scott pushed off his seat and quickly propelled himself forward into the cockpit. He grabbed onto Janet, futilely trying to pull her grasp free from the captain. "Let go, you crazy bitch!"

  She flailed her limbs around like a fish out of water, all the while her teeth were still firmly secure into her mentor's neck. Scott continued to tug and pull, but it soon became clear by the blank expression on Eric's face and the streams of blood squirting from Janet's mouth that there was no hope in saving him.

  That thought was immediately followed by his attention moving over to the end of the runway rapidly approaching through the windshield. "Not good indeed."

  Fighting and pushing his way up and over Janet's bloodthirsty delirium, Scott frantically reached for anything remotely resembling the plane's controls. Even with her clawing at his neck and face, he still managed to grab and pull back on the throttle. But it was too late.

  The plane dipped down the embankment at the end of the runway and came up the other side, plowing through the fence beyond it. The bloody mess of people Scott found himself entwined in bounced and spun around the cockpit on the jet's bumpy journey through the snowy plateau.

  Then, in one frozen moment of time, Scott could see a clear view through the windshield as the nose of the plane dipped over the cliff edge and plunged straight down towards the rocky canyon below.

  ***

  Patience was never Nellie’s strong suit. She was always a person of action. A real take charge kind of girl. Which was why the last couple hours had been so hard for her.

  It wasn’t that she had just narrowly escaped an attack by a pack of raving lunatics. That’s something she could deal with (or at least the adrenaline made it bearable). It was the waiting afterwards that got under her skin. The irritating silence that filled the air between her and the other four people in the room. Even her husband had little to say following their escape.

  A few options were discussed between her and the marshal. Should they fight the creatures head on, search for others that needed help, or simply try to assess the situation from afar? But before they could make a decision, the first thing on their list was allowing the storm to pass.

  It was obvious that their attackers had the advantage out in the blizzard. For about twenty minutes after the attack, the fiends outside the building continued to pound on the door. Then it went silent and appeared as if every one of them moved on. But the mob could’ve still been out there. So the survivors had to wait until the skies cleared before heading back outside.

  Eager to fight, Nellie reluctantly agreed to what she knew was their only option. In the meantime, though, she did the only thing she could think of to take her mind off the anticipation: counting ammunition.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to count. There were only so many places one could store extra ammo on their person while still being able to run for their life. Her and Bill managed to carry on them a decent amount of small firearm rounds, but anything larger was left in the truck.

  She also managed to find a spare box of handgun bullets in the Town Hall’s guard post. It was locked, of course. But given the circumstances, Nellie had no issues breaking it open.

  As expected, the marshal and whatever posse he had left were slim pickings in the ammunitions department. They put up a tiny fight when Nellie tried to collect it from them, but there was no denying that she was right to take an inventory of what they had left.

  Their supply turned out to be adequate. Nothing they could go to war with (especially with the firepower currently available to them), but there were enough guns and ammo to comfortably fend off an attack or two. Nellie then decided not to speculate beyond that.

  When the silence persisted after double and triple checking their munitions, Nellie moved on to double and triple checking their weaponry. She had collected eight handguns from everyone: five pistols and three revolvers. More than enough to go around.

  After she made sure each was in decent enough shape to operate, Nellie returned the guns to their owners. Besides Marshal Walker, Mrs. Sheridan wasn’t familiar with the other two people in the room. One was an older man around the same age as her husband and the other a middle-aged woman that could have easily been her daughter. Nellie hadn’t seen them before but could tell they were locals. Mostly because the marshal wouldn’t have recruited them had they been tourists.

  If they were, though, Nellie assumed they would think she was some type of hillbilly gun nut who could take apart and reassemble a rifle in her sleep. But she really wasn’t. She just enjoyed hunting with her dad and brothers as much as the next tomboy. Firing a weapon was practically a rite of passage when growing up on a Colorado ranch. And now her country bumpkin pastimes were starting to come in handy.

  It was on that thought Nellie realized she was running out of things to preoccupy her mind. Nostalgia was never her strong suit, and her nervous energy was starting to get the best of her. Which was why she secretly contained her appreciation when she spotted Marshal Walker approaching the corner office she had taken up shop in.

  The marshal didn’t look too happy (not that anyone would in this situation), but she braced herself for a rough conversation as he walked through the door. “Storm’s cleared up completely.”

  When put into context, Nellie knew Travis was just breaking the ice between them with small talk about the weather. But she simply went along with it for now. “Good. Now we have a couple more hours of daylight. What about those things outside?”

  “Haven’t seen them since they stopped attacking the door. What do you think we should do next?”

  Seeing an opportunity to exit the conversation, Nellie started to make her way past Travis and out of the office. “Right now I’m gonna take a look outside.”

  But Travis leaned over slightly to block her path with his shoulder. “Be honest with me, Nellie. Did you know this
was going to happen?”

  And just like that, the small talk was over. She knew a serious conversation was coming, but Nellie was still surprised by the question. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Bill arrived to the fight pretty prepared. Seemed like you were expecting things to be this bad.”

  She did admit that their timing was impeccable, but Travis was still poking at a big accusation. Fortunately, she didn’t have to say anything other than the truth. “We ran into one of those things up at the ranch. When the girl on the radio went silent we figured it was time to lend a hand.”

  However, the marshal remained unconvinced. “Lend a hand? You two stormed into town like it was Normandy.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “The mine. It’s got something to do with this, doesn’t it? That’s why you were always trying to close it. Because your brother…”

  She could see where the conversation was going, and Nellie acted quickly to get ahead of it. “I had suspicions. Nothing more.”

  “Suspicions? Come on, Nellie. People are dead! You didn’t think..?”

  Nellie wanted to cut him off again, but Travis suddenly stopped his own sentence, replacing it with a grave look of shock. His gaze quickly fixated past Nellie, and she turned around to see what he was looking at, which immediately became apparent.

  Through the office window, the two of them watched in silence as a small jet tumbled over the edge of the airport’s cliffs in the distance. The plane spun over once on its way down before smashing into the rocks against the backdrop of a snow drenched canyon wall.

  Nellie was surprised the whole jet didn’t go up in flames. But that didn’t stop her from storming out of the room ready for action. “Bill, we’re moving.”

  Her husband had been resting his eyes against the far wall and shot them open confused. “Wha…what’s going on?”

  “A plane crashed at the airport. We have to check it out.”

  But Travis yelled out to her from the office before she could reach the front door. “We don’t have to do anything. They’re probably dead.”

  Right before the Town Hall’s giant wooden doors, Nellie stopped, took a deep breath, and waited a moment before turning around with a blank expression. “You want to know why I charged in to save you, Travis? Because you needed help. Not because I knew this was going to happen. Not because I’ve been sitting on the ranch hording my guns with a copy of the second amendment framed on the wall. It’s because I knew there were people in trouble, and I didn’t think twice about it.

  “Is this a stupid idea? Probably. Are there people around here who need help, too? More than likely. But I’m tired of sitting here doing nothing. And this is a problem that happened in front of my eyes that I could do something about right now. So I’m not gonna think about it. I’m just going to go. With or without you.”

  Travis thought for a moment before taking a glance at the remaining members of his pitiful militia, who actually had on them a similar face to Nellie’s. They too were tired of waiting and needed to take action, regardless of what that action was. A plane crash was as good a time as any.

  So, Travis turned his attention back to Nellie and nodded his head in agreement. “Then let’s go.”

  16

  The snow was a lot deeper than Georgia thought it would be. She knew she was in for trouble when her first step forward required more effort than any she had taken before in her life. And the next wasn’t any easier.

  So far her journey into town from the TORO station had consisted of about twenty minutes worth of awkward walking and only five small blocks worth of travel. Under different circumstances, she might’ve considered the experience moving. Relaxing. Spiritual even.

  She was completely alone and Telluride had literally become a snowed in ghost town. So far she hadn’t seen another soul, crazy or otherwise. And she didn’t know whether to take that as a good thing or bad. Sure, finding someone of sane mind would be reassuring. But for now, she was happy just not being attacked by a raging lunatic.

  As she continued to move forward, Georgia tried to look for signs of life around the town. Maybe she could spot footprints of someone who passed by. Or perhaps a car that had been cleaned off by a driver hoping to get it started. But nothing. Not even a curious spectator peeking out through a window. Those, at least, that weren’t completely blocked off by snow.

  Telluride had seen several large storms in the time Georgia had lived there. Larger even than the one from this morning. But it wasn’t the amount of snowfall which crippled the town. It was how quickly it accumulated. In the past, Telluride had seen several feet of powder spread out over the course of a day. But this storm only lasted for hours and managed to dump as much as it could before vanishing into the sky. For this reason, coupled with the fact that a mob of raging zombies disrupted snow removal, Georgia was forced to trudge along through the streets as if she were on an Arctic expedition.

  Luckily, the snow was as soft and fluffy as fresh Rocky Mountain powder could get. With little effort Georgia was able to wade her legs through it, pushing the snow aside as if it were piles of feathers. The small girl gave a silent prayer that the flurries hadn’t been turned to thick, heavy slush. Otherwise, she might’ve not had the strength to go on.

  Her battle with Malcolm did a number on her, and it was a struggle just getting out of the station. But luckily again, the shining sun, when combined with the crisp coolness of the fresh mountain air, had rejuvenated her with new life. Of course, she expected winter to be cold at nine thousand feet, but the air was brisk rather than freezing.

  It also helped that the blizzard used up all its wind and there was not a breeze left in the valley. If there had been, Georgia would’ve once again been in trouble. She was walking down the snow-covered street still wearing the same baggy sweatshirt she had on for the radio show. No hat, gloves or jacket. But it’ll work, at least until she found help…if she found help.

  During her rambling thoughts, Georgia continued to scan every neighborhood she passed, still hoping for any sign of life. But there was nothing, and she was just about ready to give up hope.

  Suddenly, the snow next to her exploded up into the air as a figure burst out from within it. The cold powder shot into her face, and Georgia reflexively put her arms up as a shield. Without time to react, she immediately saw an old man behind the snow as he lunged towards her.

  After being hit by his tackle, Georgia fell back and sunk straight down into the snow with the man right on top of her. She put her arms up to keep the man away but quickly felt trapped and cramped in the narrow space she found herself in. Submerged in the snow, Georgia realized she was stuck in a bright white coffin with her attacker as the ceiling.

  The whole incident developed in a matter of seconds, but even struck by fear, Georgia found it odd that she took the time to notice her attacker’s face. She had heard countless tales of people turning into murderous fiends from her callers and even experienced it first hand with Malcolm. But this man looked different. His face didn’t look crazed or ravenous. In fact, it was covered in a layer of blood that was still oozing from his ears and eyes. The man wasn’t ferocious. He was in pain.

  But either way, Georgia was still at the receiving end of his assault and had to act. She struggled for a moment in her confined environment, trying to get in a position to retaliate. But every futile attempt at movement only made it easy for her brutish attacker to pin her down.

  Georgia could feel the strength in her arms starting to sap and her will along with it. Then she noticed the rivers of blood flowing down the man’s face were beginning to pool into droplets off his cheeks. The droplets drooped lower with every passing moment, and Georgia knew it was only a matter of time before they broke free and fell towards her.

  The immediate thought of her skin being covered in the man’s blood freaked Georgia into action. A spike of adrenaline surged through her, giving the girl just enough force to overwhelm the man and to
ss him into the snow to their side.

  Her lumbering attacker awkwardly sunk face first into the powder and struggled to get back up. Georgia wasn’t very quick to sit up either but still beat the man to her feet and proceeded to stomp down onto the back of his head. He wasn’t moving very fast to begin with, but after every one of the DJ’s ferocious kicks his attempts to stand became slower and slower.

  Once she realized his movements had ceased completely, Georgia stopped as well and took the opportunity to catch her breath while staring at the man’s motionless body pressed down deep into the snow. She had stomped him so quick and fast she couldn’t tell exactly what was going on beneath him. Had she really crushed the man’s head down into the street? Or merely squished him deeper into a firmly packed pillow of snow. Either way, he stopped moving. So the result was good enough for her.

  It was time to move again, but when she tried to turn around, Georgia’s legs gave out from under her. She only managed one step forward before her body collapsed into the fluffy cloud of snow. That’s when she realized every other time was a fluke and now it was official: she was all out of energy.

  Within a different context Georgia might’ve met her current situation with laughter, but now she just couldn’t bring herself to chuckle.

  She contemplated what would happen in the next couple hours if she couldn’t move. She also noted to herself how ironic it would be if she died in that very spot, only several feet from where she saved her own life by fighting off a crazed lunatic.

  Of course, she didn’t want it to end like that. But Georgia had to accept that her death was a strong possibility. She was too weak and battered to move before being jumped on by a hidden maniac. Now she couldn’t even feel the loose snow that was beginning to fall in, burying her underneath the powder. It would’ve been so easy to just close her eyes and drift off to sleep. The air was so still and quiet. Not a sound for miles.