Dead Summit: Containment

by Daniel Loubier

  Five seconds.

  Rose kicked over the cabinet and it landed with a loud bang. In the seconds that followed, she heard the noise on the other side of the door grow much louder, as if the activity had become hurried and more frantic. She guided the cabinet with her foot and slid it into place perfectly between the door and the edge of the counter.

  Then she waited.

  The noise on the other side of the door was terrifying and she wanted to run, but she stayed to make sure the cabinet would hold. She had promised Grace and Charlie that she would hold back the zombies. She would not let them down.

  The crashing sound against the door was not only jarring, it was endless. Instead of one giant crack, it was a protracted din of smacking, clawing, punching, and groaning. Rose looked down and noticed the distance between herself and the counter had increased considerably; while bracing for the impact, she had unconsciously backed away from the door and further into the store.

  Then the zombies broke through. The entire strike plate assembly busted apart as the dead forced the door open. To Rose’s relief, however, the cabinet held and the door did not budge any further. She watched with disgust as grey, waxy fingers reached through the narrow opening. The moans were even louder now that the small opening made room for the chorus of the dead to sing through.

  She quickly piled more items on top of and next to the cabinet: folding chairs, canopies, small tents, air mattresses, racks of clothing… she threw it all on. She even pushed the heavy cash register off the countertop and onto the overturned cabinet. There was no way those things were getting through the door.

  Then a sudden, sick realization came over Rose. She would also have to secure the exterior stockroom door.

  In their haste, many employees had escaped any and every way they could, even through the back door, which was the only plausible way the zombies could have entered since Rose had not seen any come through the front prior to Grace and Charlie’s arrival.

  Rose was confident the measures she had taken thus far had pinned the zombies in the stockroom from inside the store. By locking the exterior door, which was steel, heavy and thick, she would effectively trap them all in the room. Plus, there was no handle on the inside of the steel door, only a metal plate with a deadbolt.

  She pulled a soft cotton t-shirt off a rack of clothing. She then twisted it tightly and tied it around her neck, applying ample pressure to her wounds. When she was satisfied the provisional bandage would hold, she hurried outside as fast as her blood-depleted body would allow.

  I just need to lock that door. Then I’m dead.

  It was an eerie, morbid feeling to know how close she was to death. It was an entirely different feeling to want it.

  She hugged the outside wall of the store as she moved wobbly around to the back. The cold summit air felt like ice as it bit through the shirt and licked the sweat and wet blood pulsing out her neck. She saw stars and her stomach turned several times as the pulses emitted her red life force into the fabric.

  When she turned the corner, Rose saw the steel door was wide open. She paused and looked around to ensure there were no zombies nearby. She felt faint again, looked to the sky and inhaled deeply.

  God, help me do this… just this.

  She then continued forward and held onto the wall for support while she reached into her pocket with her other hand. She pulled out the store keys and flipped through them until she found the one she needed.

  She reached the door and, using her body weight, leaned forward and slammed it closed. Then she inserted the key and engaged the lock. That was it. It was done. The dead were locked inside; she had fulfilled her promise to Grace and Charlie.

  From outside she could hear the activity in the stockroom change course. Apparently the zombies had heard the sound of the door being closed and were now drawn to the disruption. Again, Rose heard the bangs and moans, but they were much softer outside, muted by the steel security door.

  Unfortunately there was no time to savor the victory. She had held back the zombies just as she had promised. Now it was time to uphold the second half of her promise.

  Shit. How am I going to do this? she thought. She had no weapons on her, nothing to assist with killing herself quickly and painlessly. She hadn’t thought this far ahead.

  Come on, Rose, think.

  She could tie herself up. She would turn eventually, but she would be harmless, just another zombie trapped like the ones inside.

  There’s tons of rope in the store. I’ll tie myself up in there.

  Rose turned to head back and saw immediately that this was not going to be an option. At least a dozen of the undead surrounded and closed in on her. Rose had no strength to fight off one, never mind an army of them. There were too many. It was over.

  “I’m so sorry, Grace,” she said out loud.

  Then the zombies were on her.

  The first of the undead ripped away the shirt that was tied around Rose’s neck with its blackened and rotted jaws and tore open new wounds. Another one stumbled forward, crashed into Rose and took her down with an awkward fall—her skull hit the ground with a sick, wet, cracking sound. The others continued forward until they each had found some exposed flesh: a leg, an arm, a finger. The pain from the biting and tearing was excruciating, and Rose could only bear it until her natural life was over.

  Rose opened her eyes. They were no longer the piercing, dark hazel color from before. Now they were milky and lost. Brain activity had all but ceased and only an urge to consume living flesh compelled her to move.

  She looked around and saw others just like her: greyish, slow-moving, and absently shuffling around the area. They smelled like her, too. In life, Rose would have recognized the putrid smell as that of rot, but in death, she was unable to rationalize this. Instinct only told her she would not be able to eat them.

  When she spoke, the sound from her mouth was scratchy, like sandpaper being rubbed against a rough surface, and some of the others responded in the same voice. She watched as they moved along like a dysfunctional parade and she joined their march without capability of thought or reason. The small crowd of zombies turned the corner of the brick building and headed toward the cafeteria on top of the mountain. From that direction, zombie-Rose sensed a different smell. Something quite opposite that of the rot that surrounded her, and she followed the others toward the source.

  Chapter 37

  Tom yanked Grace’s arm. The tough plastic dug into her already bruised wrists, and she stumbled over her feet as he dragged her forcefully out of the van.

  “Come on, Tom!” Shelly barked. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Tom smirked at her, then called out to Robert who had emerged from another vehicle.

  “Hey Chief, your girl might be getting soft on our prisoner.”

  “Enough!” Robert fumed as he walked over.

  Robert’s response had not been the one Tom anticipated, and Grace enjoyed watching Tom’s smile fade quickly.

  “We don’t have time for games,” Robert continued. “We need to find this guy.” Then, to Grace: “And you’re going to tell me where he is.”

  Grace immediately recognized a couple of the locations on the summit: the cafeteria where Charlie died, the hiker’s shop where they met Rose, the parking lot from where she stole the car while trying to flee the mountain. She shuddered as she tried to block out the image of scores of dead people crashing into the front of the car as she plowed through them and out of the lot.

  “Hey!” Robert’s face was only inches away from Grace’s. “I’m talking to you!”

  Grace snapped out of her PTSD-induced flashback. She and Shelly had planned for this moment and rehearsed several response options. Grace opted for the simplest one.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Robert asked.

  Robert was even more agitated than the last time Grace spoke with him, and she wondered if something had happened during the
ride up the mountain that affected his mood. Everyone in her van had been relatively upbeat, if not for their collective death-to-the-girl attitude toward her.

  “You were the last to see him up here,” Robert insisted. “Tell me where he is.”

  “I don’t know where he is because he told me he was going to move between locations. That way, if this kind of thing happened,” she made a wide, sweeping motion with her cuffed hands, “I wouldn’t have any knowledge of his whereabouts. Hell, he could have hiked back down to the hut for all I know. He could be long gone from this place and nobody would know.”

  Robert glared for a moment, but then a crooked smile formed on his lips.

  “You’re trying to trick me. Not a very good attempt, either. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be injured? How’s he going to just walk down the mountain with the moaners roaming around? No, he’s here, and we’re going to find him.”

  Robert met eyes with his father briefly, who nodded, as if in approval of Robert’s strategy so far. Robert then locked a firm hand around Grace’s elbow and led her to an opening in front of the others.

  “ATTENTION!” he yelled out. “TO THE MAN IN HIDING: WE HAVE YOUR WIFE! YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO COME OUT OR WE WILL KILL HER!”

  Grace stood quietly, as did the rest of them.

  They waited.

  When five minutes passed, Robert called out again:

  “YOU HAVE FIVE MORE MINUTES! AFTER THAT, YOUR WIFE IS DEAD! PLEASE UNDERSTAND THIS IS NOT A JOKE!”

  It was Kyle who was the first to comment on the irony.

  “Chief,” he said softly. “You’re yelling awfully loud.”

  Robert swiveled his head.

  “Your point?”

  Kyle’s eyes shifted nervously downward.

  “Well, I’m not trying to tell you what to do here, Chief, but are we sure there aren’t any lurkers around? ‘Ya know…who might hear us if we’re being loud?”

  Before Robert could respond, James stepped forward.

  “Don’t worry, Kyle. If there are any around”—he lifted the assault rifle slung over his shoulder—“we’ve got plenty of fire power to handle them.”

  “You’re right, Mr. V. Sorry.”

  “No, no, no… you’re right to be concerned. It’s natural. Shows good preparation.”

  Kyle offered a sheepish smile and then took a few steps back behind Tom.

  The group waited in silence and Grace’s fear of what would happen in another ten minutes began to increase. She glanced covertly at Shelly, who offered no assurance—she couldn’t, after all. They needed to wait and see what Robert would do next, but Shelly had been certain Robert wouldn’t kill Grace just yet. Not this early into the mission.

  Robert checked his watch and then called out once more.

  “THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO SHOW YOURSELF OR YOUR WIFE DIES! ONE MINUTE!” He then turned to Grace. “Guess he doesn’t love you that much after all.”

  Grace ignored his gaze and stared forward. She wasn’t going to let him bait her into an emotional response that might reveal any part of her and Shelly’s ruse.

  Fortunately a sound from inside of one of the buildings drew everyone’s attention. The men raised and readied their weapons. Heads turned in many directions as they tried to pinpoint the source of the noise.

  “I think it was the cafeteria,” one of the men called out.

  “Yeah,” confirmed a second man. “Definitely the cafeteria.”

  The sound had been unmistakable.

  “It’s one of them,” Kyle uttered.

  “Kyle,” James warned. “Everything is just fine.”

  The men held their positions and waited as the noise grew louder. It was like an offbeat hum or growl, and it was accompanied by the scraping of something rigid against the asphalt.

  A single zombie emerged from around the corner of the cafeteria. Its clothes were tattered and its skin was ashy and dark. Grace’s breath caught in her throat; for a moment, she thought it was Charlie—a zombie version of him—and her eyes filled with tears at the mere thought of him. Then she realized it was not Charlie and she was able to breathe again.

  “Tom,” Robert said. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all, Chief.”

  Tom racked a bullet into the chamber of his M4 and strode toward the dead man with overconfidence. He stopped when he was about five feet away and then raised the scope to his eye. He aimed and fired. The zombie’s head blew apart in an explosion that resembled a rock splashing into thick mud and muck. Tom stepped over the corpse, admired his accomplishment for a moment, and then walked back to the group casually with a sneer at the corner of his lips.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Robert said, “I consider that our answer.”

  “Wait… what?” Sam McKenzie found his voice for the first time since they had arrived. “What answer?”

  “I think it’s pretty clear,” James said. “It’s the old bait-and-switch method. And judging by the direction from which that lurker just came, I’d say the husband is around or inside that cafeteria. Seems kinda random, but I think that was the man’s objective: to make it look random. Fortunately, I don’t believe in coincidences.” He placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder and squeezed. “Neither does my son. Ain’t that right?”

  Robert smiled and Grace saw a look of pride in his father’s eyes, and the juices in her stomach felt like acid burning inside.

  “That’s right, Pop,” Robert said.

  “Well then,” James said with a wink, “what’s the plan, Chief?”

  Grace felt sick at James’ indulging of Robert’s self-imposed status as the team’s leader. She looked to Shelly for… something. Information. Anything.

  Shelly only shook her head slowly: not yet.

  Grace found Liam standing among the other men. He caught her stare and discretely leveled a hand. Apparently there was no rush.

  This is going to take some time, Grace thought. But hopefully not too much.

  “All right,” Robert said out loud. “Let’s get some teams.” He looked into the eyes of each of the men. “Kyle, you’re with my dad in the cafeteria. Tom, Liam, Mr. McKenzie: you take the observation tower.”

  “Observation tower?” Sam asked with annoyance. “I thought you said he’s at the cafeteria? What the hell am I--”

  “Sam,” James said in a calm voice. “It’s okay. Robert knows what he’s doing. He’s just following protocol. Remember?”

  Sam’s eyes fell, embarrassed, and he nodded.

  “We think he may be in the cafeteria,” James continued, “but we’d be shooting ourselves in the foot if we didn’t perform the necessary due diligence in all areas. Aside from the caf’, there’s the tower and the summit store. We need to clear all those areas, just to be sure.”

  “Right, right,” Sam acknowledged. “Then let’s get on with it, yeah?” He then cast a sidelong glance at Liam. “You just watch where you point that fucking gun, asshole.”

  “Yes, sir,” Liam said.

  Grace felt terrible. Shelly had made her aware of the circumstances surrounding the death of Sam McKenzie’s son, Ryan. She couldn’t help but want to hug Liam for having been forced to make such a horrible decision—a decision she herself had been forced to make.

  Robert finished assembling the teams and said, “Let’s move quickly but efficiently. Don’t cut any corners. If you come to a locked door, open it but do it quietly. This guy is here and we will find him.” He looked down at his watch. “If we find nothing, let’s meet back here in twenty minutes for debriefing and next steps. Keep your radios on.” He then looked deep into Grace’s eyes and said, “That’s it. Let’s bring him down.”

  Chapter 38

  “I don’t mind taking lead, Mr. McKenzie,” Tom said as he stepped in front of Sam and Liam. Then, in an overzealous attempt to appeal to the older man’s sensitivities, “It’s the least I can do, sir.”

  “I appreciate that, Tom.” Sam then regarded Liam with two piercing orbs.
“You can stay in front of me, too. Last thing I need is a stray bullet in the back of the head.”

  “Now don’t make me have to split you two apart,” Tom said with a chuckle.

  Liam walked ahead of Sam, kept his mouth closed and his thoughts to himself. If he was able to make it out of this search expedition without Sam shooting him, it will have been no small miracle. It was enough that he was already on high alert anticipating the appearance of more zombies, dealing with the pain of having to end his friend’s life and was colluding with Shelly and that woman, Grace, on an escape plan. He didn’t need the added worry of being killed by a living human.

  “You just do your thing,” Sam told Tom. “I’ll keep an eye on the rear. And Liam”—his voice faltered with emotion—“you just try not to do anything stupid.”

  They had passed the cafeteria and the summit shop, climbed a long, sweeping set of concrete steps and arrived at the door to the Observatory.

  The Mt. George Observatory, founded in 1932, was a nonprofit scientific and educational organization established to advance mankind’s research and understanding of extreme weather patterns.

  The Observatory houses an extensive array of meteorological and scientific equipment. There’s a small dining hall and several bunks for observatory employees and overnight visitors and even a museum chronicling the history of recorded weather on the mountain.

  The Observatory is closed to the public during the winter season, the only exceptions being emergencies and pre-approved tours. Fortunately for Tom and Sam, whoever had been there at the time the outbreak occurred didn’t lock the door before they left.

  Tom looked back at Liam and Sam as they approached.

  “This place is relatively small,” he said quietly. “Probably not too many places for this guy to hide. If it was me, I’d probably be in the museum, but let’s start here first.”

  Liam and Sam nodded.