Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  Without pause or delay, the next wave of zombies turned their attention towards Georgia, still backed into the corner. Even with the horde moving at a snail's pace, she only had a few moments before they reached her.

  The facts told her there was no other outcome. There were at least a dozen of them between her and the exit with more continuing to enter the room. She didn't have a gun, not that it made much of a difference for Molly. And the radio didn't work, so nobody was coming to her rescue.

  But even given all that, Georgia still found it hard to accept her fate and felt the urge to fight. She frantically kicked in front of her, pushing and smacking the soles of her feet at every zombie that came close. Her futile struggle only lasted a few pointless seconds, though, as her desperate pants of panic soon became screams of horror when the mob became too many to stop.

  27

  After Stephanie's sacrifice, the rest of the gondola ride down to Mountain Village was silent. Nellie knew there was plenty to talk about. They should've been formulating a plan and developing some sort of strategy for dealing with whatever pandemonium they might encounter. But the old woman could also feel the loss weighing heavy on her partner's heart and knew he needed the time to grieve.

  She just hoped his moment of silence didn't last long. In just a few minutes, the gondola would enter Mountain Village station, and Chris would have to be focused for them to complete their mission.

  Personally, Mrs. Sheridan didn't feel the need to give the girl's death any more than a passing thought. And to be fair, Chris never looked to the woman for sympathy anyway. How could he when he saw her blow her own husband's head off without even batting an eye.

  As soon as the outbreak began, Nellie knew that a battlefield line was drawn between the infected and the survivors alongside her. She wouldn't go so far as to call them soldiers, but death was a known hazard to all involved. Besides, in Nellie's mind, everyone in this valley was already dead.

  To her joy (and somewhat surprise), Chris sat up in his seat ready for action as they pulled into the station. Nellie nodded her head approvingly and was taken aback even further when the ski patroller darted out of the cab as the doors opened.

  It seemed that Stephanie's death had filled young Mr. Chambers with a revitalized sense of conviction. He was determined to make sure the girl did not sacrifice herself in vain. And luckily for Nellie, she was all too willing to use that drive to her advantage.

  She followed him into the station and the unlikely duo stopped just in front of the exit to gain a sense of their surroundings. What they found under the bright lights of the heated walkway was a similar scene to the one they had left in the streets of Telluride. Every inch of Mountain Village courtyard was packed with a moving mass of the same walking corpses they encountered up at the mid-mountain station. Chris assured her that the place was empty earlier this afternoon, but like in town, the infected must've been hiding until the time when they would emerge into the darkness as the decomposed creatures they'd become.

  From his position, Chris intently scoured the crowd. But his attention was mainly focused on a building closer to them and on the outskirts of the village square. "There's too many to get to Peter's office from here. But the basement he was talking about runs through the village. If we can get to the ski patrol building where the explosives are located, we can just head downstairs and take the tunnels across."

  After hearing the plan, Nellie carefully observed the zombie stragglers between them and the building, who roamed around aimlessly, free from the much larger, denser pack in the center of the village. "We'll still have to go through a fair amount of those things."

  "You got a better idea?"

  Nellie was almost insulted by the question. She was merely stating a fact, not complaining. So she simply responded to the patroller's comment by lifting her rifle and leaving the station.

  She never bothered to look back to see if Chris followed her out, but Nellie wasted no time taking aim at the nearest zombie. Calmly and carefully moving ahead, Nellie squeezed the trigger while looking down her rifle's sight. The bullet found its mark, but it also rang out a deafening gunshot across the village square. The loud bang overcame the chaotic symphony of moans bellowed by the zombie orchestra, grabbing their attention in the process.

  The giant mass in the village courtyard began swaying back and forth as their slow move towards the gondola began. At which point it became a race against time for Nellie to reach her destination before being engulfed by the crowd approaching her.

  Without running, she quickly scuttled forward, selectively picking off the zombies in her way, each one with nothing more than a single bullet between the eyes. Nellie was careful not to get distracted by taking out too many. She didn't want to waste time focusing on those that weren't an immediate threat.

  But the fringes of the zombie horde started trickling into her path on the heated walkway. Nellie was quickly finding that her time between shots was growing shorter and shorter, and she was still a good hundred feet away from her destination.

  The seasoned shooter didn't panic, though. Or even look away from her task when another gunshot fired that didn't come from her rifle. Nellie kept her concentrating eyes ahead and could sense Chris move up alongside her. Together they alternated shots at the zombie wave that was on the verge of overtaking them. To keep the fiends away, they began rapidly squeezing their triggers for the last few steps until finally barging through the glass front door of the ski patrol offices.

  Chris quickly locked the door behind them before leading Nellie deeper into the building. But it only took a matter of seconds before the massive crowd busted through the glass door and windows, storming the lobby like a slow, unstoppable juggernaut. Neither of the survivors looked back, though, as Chris led Nellie down a stairwell, unconcerned about the danger behind them.

  The couple then approached a steel cage positioned in the corner of the immaculately clean boiler room-like basement. With the zombie moans echoing out from the lobby, Chris casually entered a combination into a padlock on the chain door. Once unlocked, he and Nellie both entered the cage and stopped to survey the well-kept, organized shelves of equipment before them.

  With labels meticulously categorizing every piece of hardware, Nellie's eyes scanned each shelf to figure out exactly what they needed. Her gaze immediately passed by a series of rifles, mortars and other kinds of launchers, what most would consider a safe and distant delivery system for avalanche control. For their purposes, though, Nellie was more interested in the bombs themselves, along with the other explosive devices found on the top tier of the shelf.

  At her side, Nellie could sense Chris preparing to point the equipment out to her. But Nellie didn't wait for his instructions. She already took it upon herself to grab a duffle bag from the floor and began piling in everything she needed. Picking and choosing from the stockpile, Nellie found a good assortment of charges and fuses for a controlled demolition.

  Once the duffle bag was full, Nellie threw the strap over her shoulder and turned back around to face the patroller. "Now where?"

  "This way."

  Nellie followed Chris out of the cage, but they both soon stopped when a series of loud crashes from the stairwell overtook the continuous moaning that had become their natural ambience. The noise drew their attention as several of the weak, flimsy bodies came tumbling into the basement in the form of a zombie avalanche.

  After slamming into the floor at the base of the steps, the living corpses just laid on the ground motionless. And despite the danger of having the creatures right in front of them, Nellie and Chris just stood there, curiously watching to see what they might do. And after a brief moment of suspense, the zombies started moaning again as they awkwardly began the slow process of rising to their feet.

  Again, Nellie and Chris didn't feel the urge to flee. Even as another series of bangs brought a second group of zombies down into the basement.

  The danger, although apparent, wasn't immediate
. But there was something chilling about the scene before them that made Nellie uncomfortable. The sight of stumbling zombies endlessly pursuing them without thought, logic or reason was a discouraging image. No matter where they went. No matter how far they ran. These creatures would always be following behind them.

  It didn't fill her with fear, though. Just made Nellie feel all the more justified in her actions.

  When the first set of invaders finally got to their feet (and a third began their rough trip down the steps), Nellie and Chris resumed their quest to a tunnel entrance on the other side of the basement.

  They weren't necessarily running, neither felt the need to rush, but the couple jogged with a mild sense of urgency. Although still a way from catching up, the zombies were surely on their way. And whatever distance the survivors could put between them and their pursuers would certainly alleviate a great deal of stress, which was always a good idea when setting a series of live explosives in a high-pressure situation.

  In line with Mountain Village's recent construction, the tunnel was fairly modern and updated as far as underground passageways went. Besides four well-formed concrete walls, a series of pipes traversed the length of the tunnel, veering off and elbowing in different directions at various intersections. Nellie had no idea where they were going, but Chris kept on a steady path dead ahead and looked perfectly confident in the route he was taking.

  By the time the group entered another basement, much larger yet similar to the one they just left, the moaning that followed them down the tunnel had faded.

  But Nellie grew a little concerned when she looked to Chris for further direction and saw that he was just as lost as she was. "I assume we're under the right building. So then, what’re we looking for?"

  "I'm not sure. Hopefully, we'll know it when we see it."

  Nellie took it upon herself to start following the pipes above their heads in search of the gas reserve. Chris then followed her lead, and it wasn't long before they both met in a separate room housing a large tank completely outfitted with an assortment of valves and gauges. Nellie felt completely dwarfed by its size and was a bit intimidated by the number of pipes, both large and small, that fed into the top of it.

  After a few seconds of standing in awe as well, Chris broke the silence between them. "You have any idea how to work this thing?"

  But instead of answering right away, Nellie took her time by examining every inch of the tank. Little by little, she began breaking down the whole contraption into its most basic components. The equipment, capable of accommodating the whole village, was certainly more massive than the facilities she'd been used to working with. But isolated out, the tank's parts were nothing she hadn't seen in the past while helping her father and brothers maintain their properties around town. It was a fairly simple system, just on a much grander scale.

  Once she became familiar enough to recognize what she had to do, a sly smile broke out on Nellie's face as she finally answered his question. "I think I do."

  She handed Chris the duffle bag before approaching the tank. Then, after a final, quick scan of the system, Nellie began turning knobs, valves and levers in an orchestrated combo.

  Chris initially took a step back as the pipes began to grumble with the gauges coming to life, but Nellie quickly pulled his attention back to her as she reached a hand out to him. "Start handing me the charges."

  Although still unsure of the situation, Chris opened up the duffel bag and started handing her the devices inside. One by one, Nellie placed the explosives around the room in no particular design. She wasn't quite sure what set up would be the most effective. But then again, the old rancher figured if she had to worry about creating an optimal explosion in a room filled with bombs then something was dearly wrong.

  When everything was finally set, Nellie turned back to Chris but found that the patroller was gone. All that remained was the limp duffel back resting on the ground where he had stood.

  Nellie wasn't too concerned that he took off. She didn't really have a need for him now, anyway. But her instincts told her that he didn't leave empty handed. It was a fear that she confirmed when Nellie looked inside the empty duffel bag and saw that the last piece of crucial equipment was missing. Chris had taken the detonator.

  ***

  As a ski patroller, Chris developed a knack for figuring out when people weren’t telling him the whole truth. EMS, in particular, was known for catching people in vulnerable situations, but being on the mountain added a whole nother level to a patient’s humility. It didn’t matter if they were a snowboarding bum or a skiing executive, a person would say anything to keep their pride intact.

  Which was why there was something about Nellie that concerned Chris. From what he could tell, the woman’s pride was infallible. It would have to take a lot to unnerve anybody who would shoot their spouse in front of a room filled with strangers. Yet Chris couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something. Or at least, not being completely upfront with him. And if it had nothing to do with her pride, then Chris was a bit nervous as to what she had up her sleeve.

  But then again, he wasn’t completely honest with her either, which was the main reason he never pressed the issue with the old woman. Ever since they left the cabin, Peter had given Chris his own agenda. And not a subtle one at that. Chris was pretty sure Nellie was at least aware that he had an ulterior motive. After all, Stephanie pretty much gave it away on their walk to the gondola.

  So as he quickly climbed the stairwell up to Peter’s office, Chris had little remorse about running off with the detonator in hand. Before blowing up the village, he had to make sure the other survivors were ready to get going. He just hoped they were all still safe and sound where he had left them.

  Unfortunately, that prayer was immediately shattered upon entering the building’s top floor hallway.

  Blood and body parts were sprawled out from wall to wall, covering almost every inch of surface in sight. The supplies, food and clothing, were all over the floor, probably tossed around during the panic. Chris had encountered this scene before and was easily able to deduce what transpired, but he tried his best to stop himself from recreating the horror in his mind. It was the pure definition of carnage, and as Chris carefully walked through the massacre, he noticed one distinct face was missing among the brutalized men, women and children: Austin Cage.

  The movie star was nowhere in sight, and if by some off chance he wasn’t the one responsible, he could’ve been anywhere by now. The crazed attackers the infected became in the first stage of their transformation weren’t exactly known for sticking around.

  It was a shame that Chris found no one alive, but strangely enough, the person he came to see wouldn’t exactly be classified as a survivor. After tiptoeing through the grotesque bloodbath, Chris turned into Peter’s office and caught sight of young Ryan still chained to the wall. The boy was eerily standing with his head down and slowly looked up when he felt another presence in the room.

  Chris patiently waited by the doorway and wasn’t surprised to see that Ryan stood in a daze with his face dripping a copious amount of blood. He had already entered the second stage of the infection. Chris only hoped that the cure would still be effective in someone so far gone.

  With the detonator still in his other hand, Chris reached into his jacket and carefully removed the full syringe Peter had handed to him. The cautious patroller then briefly thought about how best to approach the situation. It seemed as though Ryan was relatively docile. The boy stood in place while continuously taking the same long, raspy breaths. His body subtly swayed back and forth while his eyes rolled around in their sockets, refusing to take notice of anything surrounding him.

  Without any other option presenting itself, Chris finally decided to just go right in and stick the boy square in the neck. But first the patroller widened his stance before flicking the syringe’s cap off with his thumb and cautiously sliding his feet forward one at a time. As he slowly moved towards him, Chri
s kept his eyes straight on Ryan and nothing else.

  He knew there was little chance that the boy was coherent enough to talk to, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “Ryan, I know you’re in there somewhere. And I’m not done fighting for you. I made Sarah and your father a promise. I’m going to get you out of here, OK? Just hold on and I’ll…”

  His words were cut off by a loud bang as the left side of Ryan’s unsuspecting face exploded off the rest of his head. Blood and brain matter shot out all over the window behind him, and the body appeared to hover in place for a moment longer before dropping to the floor.

  With his jaw open in a complete state of shock, Chris quickly turned around to see Nellie still aiming her rifle in the doorway. “What did you just do?!

  The old woman casually lowered her rifle and answered the rhetorical question as simply as she could. “Killed a zombie. What did it look like?”

  Still holding the detonator firmly in one hand, Chris raised the syringe clutched in the other. “I was going to cure him.”

  Nellie shook her head as she again responded with a dry tone. “That’s not a cure.”

  “Of course, it is. Dr. Morris said that…”

  “Anna Morris is not a doctor. She’s a drug addict.”

  The peculiar statement forced Chris’s face to scrunch as he paused for a moment to process the confusing information. “What?”

  “She was a hippie teenager that came here in the sixties, dropped acid, and never left. It seems Mr. Hayden would’ve known that if he stepped off his pedestal in the mountains every once in a while.”

  Chris’s eyes sank to the floor as a large weight fell from his shoulders into the pit of his stomach. He could feel his insides begin to churn. And his whole being tied into knots while his mind was pulled in a million directions.

  He then approached the office window to look out over the infested village square as he spoke, not so much to Nellie but more to himself. “All those people. We have to save them.”