by Frank Martin
Free from the attack, Austin took his time regaining his composure and standing to his feet. The whole event only lasted a few seconds, but in that short amount of time the entire area became drenched in blood. It wasn’t an adrenaline-fueled incident, either. Austin’s initial question of what Ryan would be like when he woke was answered by the sight of the slow, dumb-witted zombie in front of him. Contrary to what he was like before, the boy’s current form was hardly a threat chained to a wall. But the damage had already been done.
Austin stood by the door, covered in blood and holding a hand up to the wound on his face. He waited there for a moment and watched as Ryan lumped around aimlessly, completely oblivious of the restraints holding him back. It was a pitiful sight and made Austin regret that he never had a chance to meet the boy before all this craziness.
At that moment, the door burst open and several of the other survivors rushed in to see what the commotion was about. Catching sight of Ryan and the blood was enough evidence for them to put the pieces together themselves. They then turned to Austin just as he removed his arm from his cheek and looked down at the contents of his hand. Lying on his palm was a large, bloody chunk of flesh the size of a golf ball.
Austin knew that wasn’t a good sign. It probably meant that an equal sized piece was missing from his face. But he didn’t realize just how bad it was until he looked up to see the horrified expressions of the survivors in front of him, a rather distant experience from the awes and smiles his movie star looks were used to.
25
Upon entering the TORO building, Molly Pullman was woefully unimpressed. She’d listen to the station all her life and often imagined what the inside of the recording booth looked like. The only experience she had with the technical aspect of broadcasting was what she’d seen in movies and on television. So Molly always pictured the DJ she was listening to inside some kind of fancy sound booth surrounded by recording equipment and microphones.
The reality was a lot less intriguing. TORO had a recording booth, sure, but it was far from comfortable. And the equipment was nothing special or impressive. In fact, putting a broadcast together seemed like a lot of hard (and boring) work. By the time Georgia showed her around, Ms. Pullman was convinced that somebody had to be crazy to want to be in this industry. Which actually made a lot of sense, since she thought the girl who brought her here wasn’t quite right in the head to begin with.
Georgia was a sweet girl, though. Eccentric. But harmless in her own way. Her spirits were relatively up considering the amount of work the two women had ahead of them. Molly wasn’t quite sure the status of the radio equipment when she signed on to this mission. And she was regretting not bringing it up beforehand or, at the very least, when they were on their way.
Besides the broken glass covering the entire sound booth, every piece of equipment was either flipped over or completely destroyed. Not to mention the console in the control room appeared like someone stomped on it. Whatever looked intact they simply prayed still worked. Everything that couldn’t be salvaged but they had extras of was readily replaced. Headphones, microphones, cables, and wires were no big deal.
Molly didn’t know what they were doing or where anything went. But Georgia’s instructions were simple enough that she didn’t necessarily need to know what was going on. And as long as no zombies were banging on the door, the schoolteacher was happy to help.
Although the carnage all around the station made her curious, Molly refrained from asking Georgia what caused it. That information wouldn’t have helped them repair the destruction any faster. And besides, Molly had a feeling the story was too personal (not to mention traumatic) for Georgia to relive.
She realized this during the brief tour the DJ gave her of the facility. The two of them passed by an open door labeled “server room.” Georgia neglected to show it any importance. When Molly peeked inside, though, she saw the bloody aftermath of a brutal battle. The most concerning part being the damage to what looked like very important (and expensive) equipment. But when Molly asked if they would need to fix anything inside, Georgia quickly passed by the room and dismissed the question by stating they could bypass the system. Of course, the simple schoolteacher had no clue if the girl was telling the truth or just avoiding a painful memory. She was just going to have to take Miss Croft’s word for it.
Once the repairs were complete, Georgia took to a computer in the control room. She said she had to re-route the networks to get a workable signal. Molly had no idea what the experienced DJ was talking about. All she knew was that whatever Georgia was doing would take time. Time they didn’t necessarily have.
So she stood armed and ready with both the pistol that had been so reliable for her since the crisis began and the radio Mrs. Sheridan gave her to inform the other groups of any complications. The building was still quiet, though, and there were no signs that the zombie mob they lured to her burning home had caught up with them. All Molly could do now was hope and pray that Georgia could finish her work before that happened.
***
Ever since she moved to the area, Beth had been meaning to take a summer tour up to Tomboy, the old mining settlement situated above Telluride. Unfortunately, her busy job seemed to always get in the way. An ironic coincidence considering that she would most likely be one of the last people to see it.
That was the bittersweet silver lining the young professional took from her current situation. Beth sat in the dead center of the massive pickup truck's backseat while it seamlessly climbed up the harrowing Tomboy Trail. The snow-covered road (if it could even be called that), was a thin patch of land carved out of the side of the valley that acted as a natural route up to the settlement's plateau.
Normally, tours were given in skinny jeeps that allowed customers to feel safe going up the mountain. But when two vehicles going in opposite directions passed each other by, which was bound to happen, the outside vehicle had just enough room to carefully hug the trail's edge without tumbling over. Needless to say, the truck Beth was in now easily took up the entire road.
Scott seemed to be handling it just fine, though, after setting the vehicle to its lowest gear, of course. Although the trail wasn't necessarily steep, the snow did pose more of a problem here than on the flat roads in town. But the Sheridans had the experience (and money) to outfit the vehicle with the top of the line snow tires it deserved.
What worried Beth more than the road, though, was the thick tension filling the inside of the cab. Her seat between the two men upfront also acted as a metaphorical position in their three-way relationship, one which her boss was still unaware of. And she would prefer it remained that way. Peter was a nice guy and all. Smart, too. That much was indisputable since she started working for him. But her loyalty always rested with Scott. And during this time of crisis, he would need her now more than ever. That reason and that reason alone was why she volunteered to tag along on this field trip.
But the strange feud that seemed to persist between her boss and boyfriend was going to be a problem. Beth didn't know how or why Peter was standoffish towards Scott. Especially since he was unaware that she’d been helping him. But the reason was irrelevant. This was a dangerous time and the last thing Beth needed was the two of them bickering with their lives on the line.
As the truck continued its steady climb, Beth tried to think of a topic to bring some form of positive communication to the group. But while her brain continued to churn, Scott beat her to the punch with his trademark sarcasm. "So what's the plan, fearless leader? Light the fuse and run like hell?"
Peter's attention remained focused out the window as he ignored the question, addressing his former assistant instead. "Beth, check under the seat and make sure the explosives are where Mrs. Sheridan said they were."
She ducked her head down and was immediately met by a thick, plastic container. "They're here."
Before she could look up, though, Scott had already turned the conversation in his favor. "Awesome. Maybe we can
find one of those dynamite boxes and push the plunger down like Wile. E. Coyote."
Finally breaking his gaze out the window, Peter turned to the driver with a look halfway between agitation and disgust. "This really is a joke to you, isn't it?"
But Scott simply laughed off the tension. "Oh, don't be bitter just because you didn't get to drive the truck."
When he realized engaging the man was pointless, Peter exhaled a frustrated breath while turning his attention back out the windshield in front of him.
Beth could feel the tension rising through the silence and quickly began thinking of something, anything, that could get a dialogue going to preoccupy their minds. "You think we're going to run into any of those crazy people up there?"
Peter answered with eyes remaining fixated ahead. "Probably not."
Beth wasn't necessarily interested in the follow-up question that popped into her mind but asked it anyway. "Then why did we bring along that cure the lady found?"
Scott took it upon himself to respond. "The same reason we brought guns. It’s better to have and not need than need and not have. Right, Peter?"
The question was aimed to antagonize Mr. Hayden more than anything else, and he again ignored it. But regardless of Scott's sarcasm, Peter didn’t dispute his statement. Silence filled the cab once more, but the tension was vastly diminished because of the tone the conversation ended on. It was a small and somewhat obvious point they agreed on, yet that was all they needed to calm the air, even though their agreement wasn't said out loud.
On that note, Beth was happy to let the ride continue. And she then directed her attention out the window to see the same landscape Peter had been staring at. From the side of the trail, the view encompassed an angle of the valley that one didn’t normally see. The moonlight did an alluring job illuminating the architecture of both Telluride and Mountain Village. Without anyone to turn on the lights, the communities looked far darker than usual. But the few street lamps scattered about gave the town an eerie beauty of ghostly desolation.
The picture reminded Beth that Telluride truly was a special place. One she admittedly had taken for granted in the time she'd lived there and felt saddened by the thought that it wouldn’t be in existence for much longer.
***
The gondola ride up to the mid-mountain station was quite literally a calm before the storm. Stephanie, along with the cab's other two passengers, knew danger was waiting for them. What kind of danger was another issue entirely.
Was the mob that chased them out of the station still upstairs? Did the zombies still have the same overwhelming numbers or did some of them leave? Perhaps only a few stragglers remained, in which case the three survivors would have no problem overpowering them as the car passed through to the other side.
There was always the slim chance that all of them left. That the mindless fiends scattered across the mountainside looking for more ways to cause havoc. But Stephanie wouldn't even consider that as a possibility. Luck like that just hadn't been on her side.
As the gondola continued to climb its way upward, the group could see a wave of light pouring out from within the station above them. The closer they came, the brighter it glowed, until it lit up the mountainside like a flare in the darkness.
When the large structure finally came into full view, the group readied their weapons; Stephanie and Peter with their handguns and Nellie with her rifle. Not one of them said a word, but each understood the poor positioning they would have in a fight, cornered inside the tight space of the gondola cab. They silently prepared themselves anyway. After all, what choice did they have?
Eventually, the bright light fully illuminated the station's entrance as the gondola cab lifted over the ridge, bringing the building's large opening within view. The cab's passengers anxiously awaited a menacing threat, and their fears were confirmed when they spotted the entryway packed with a crowd of zombies.
But the horde huddled together there, moaning in unison like one loud concert of pain and torment, was unlike anything they were expecting. The maddened fiends that Stephanie and Chris encountered earlier had been replaced by the literal epitome of the living dead. Their faces, no longer pale and covered in blood, had grown dry, scaly and cracked like that of a freshly decomposed corpse. The zombies had stopped hastily lumbering their deadened bodies around and were now just walking around in circles at an agonizingly slow pace, almost as if every step they took required every ounce of energy they could muster.
Their sudden change in appearance, even more drastic than the previous one, took the group by surprise. Stephanie wanted to say something. To converse with the others about the meaning behind the monsters' evolution. But there wasn't a single moment for any of them to discuss it.
Right after seeing the creatures for the first time, the gondola cab rode up into the station, plowing straight into the densely packed mob of roaming zombies.
Upon impact, the first series of undead were either dragged under the cab or knocked aside into the surrounding fodder. The next wave, however, had nowhere to go other than to be pinned by those behind them, pressing their crusty faces up against the gondola's glass. The zombies had previously left a path for the gondola cars to pass by. But the entire hellish crowd collapsed in on itself when they found out there were people inside the newest one to arrive. The cab continued to move forward fully into the station and was quickly enveloped by a massive swarm closing in around it.
With ample supply of the grotesque faces before her, Stephanie was finally able to get a good look at how truly hideous these unfortunate souls had become. Their grey, worn skin had degraded into a dry canvas of brittle flesh, crumbling off their bodies from even the softest contact against the cab. Deep pocks and sores littered every inch of their faces, and nothing could be seen inside their sockets except the blank, glossy clouds that had become their eyes.
It was hard for Stephanie to see through and above the tightly packed crowd that encompassed them, but from what she could tell, the floor was completely covered wall to wall with fiends. Their first escape must’ve drawn everyone from the building's multiple levels to the gondola floor. A process that probably continued long after the survivors had left. There were a couple hundred of them at least, all moaning incessantly like a flock of injured animals. Far too many for the speechless passengers inside the gondola to count.
And it was at that moment the cab's doors slowly began to open.
None of the zombies pressing on that side of the cab rushed inside it. At least, not like they did before. Without the wall holding them up, the walking corpses in the front toppled forward from those pushing behind them.
Stephanie leaned back in her seat and began kicking any object that crossed the threshold into the cab. Some of the dry, brittle body parts exploded in a puff of ash from the impact of her boot. Others she could only push back outside to get lost among the next wave that persisted to claw and climb their way inside.
Backed up against the wall of the cab, Chris and Nellie aimed their weapons and took carefully placed shots at the attackers that Stephanie missed. For the most part, their combined efforts were able to keep up with the moaning crowd that incessantly forced its way forward. But as the gondola continued to move slowly through the station, so did the endless wave of zombies that never ceased its attempts to get inside. The whole mass of walking dead acted like a glacier, slowly creeping in the same direction as an unstoppable force, never stalling or breaking for an instant.
For a solid minute, the battle raged on with the three survivors holding back the assault from inside their tight quarters. Then, at about halfway through the station, Nellie’s rifle clicked empty. At first, she reached inside her coat for additional ammo, but when the zombie wall at the door started to press forward, she realized reloading wasn’t an option. Frantic to take back the ground she had lost, Nellie turned her weapon around and began banging the butt of the rifle against any gnashing head that poked through the doorway.
The
group showed an awkward display of teamwork to keep the zombies at bay, but it seemed to work. Although arms would occasionally grasp at air inside the cab, not a single zombie had succeeded to gain full entry. Their slow and deliberate movements allowed the survivors time to pace themselves in a well-timed system of defense. After all, there was no sense rushing the fight. The gondola was more than halfway through the station and would continue to slowly move towards the exit. Eventually, the group would be free, all they had to do was hold out for a few more minutes.
That plan changed, however, when a loud crunch of the gondola track above their heads rang out over the moaning of the crowd and was immediately followed by the cab coming to a jerky halt.
The sudden stop took all three passengers by surprise, but none of them had the luxury to look up at what caused it. Nellie gritted her teeth as she twisted the rifle around like a staff to keep the top portion of the door blocked. This allowed her to look back at Chris with a silent expression that demanded he explain what just happened.
He opened his mouth to answer but was also unexpectedly met with an empty click from his gun. The patroller then proceeded to sit back and repeatedly kick at the door alongside Stephanie while answering Nellie’s concern. “The added resistance must’ve triggered a failsafe.”
Still pushing back against the onslaught, Nellie wasted no time with a follow-up. “How do we get it back on?”
“A red button in the control booth behind us.”
Upon hearing those words, Stephanie stopped kicking and quickly swung her feet down into a sprinter’s position. “I’m going.”