Dead Summit (Book 1): Dead Summit

by Loubier, Daniel

  “How?” Grace asked.

  The words came slowly. Softly. “By doing what we had to do.”

  Grace was silent. She watched as Roy’s eyes reddened at first, then filled slowly with tears.

  “We did what we had to,” he repeated. He wiped a tear away, his hand shaking, and looked off to the side.

  Grace didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t and wouldn’t believe it. There was no way it happened like that, not even in those days. She began shaking her head.

  “No,” she said. “It can’t be.”

  “Oh, it sure can,” Roy said, meeting her eyes again. “And it was.”

  “They were...killed?” she asked.

  “Last thing we—” he cut himself off, “—they needed was for people to believe that the dead were coming back to life up here. So, they were...handled.”

  “How could they get away with it?” she asked.

  “They got away with it because they all signed an agreement. If any of the ones who did the ‘handling and disposal’ had talked, they’d have been killed.”

  Grace stared at him in horror.

  “And I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Nobody ever talked.”

  Grace rested in her chair. She didn’t speak as she tried to let the information sink in. It was too much to take. She knew then that she should have backed out when Roy had given her the chance. She didn’t want to know any of this. She wished she’d never asked. She wanted to erase this entire conversation from her memory. She wanted to erase the entire trip, to have Charlie back, to be at home, living their boring lives together, expecting a child, maybe two.

  But now she sat in the hut, across from Roy at a shitty picnic table playing a hand of cards that was merely a buffer between now and the time she’d be able to leave this place and never look back. She suddenly felt empty inside, hollow, and in a weird way attached to this place and its terrible history. She knew then that the scars of knowing what happened here hundreds of years ago would run deeper than any others she’d sustained during this trip.

  Roy stood from the table. Grace didn’t even acknowledge his walking away. She simply sat there, motionless, pinned down in her chair by the weight of nearly four hundred years of murderous secrecy. Roy was right: There was no unknowing it. She would carry the burden of this knowledge for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 17

  Day Three Lockdown

  I couldn’t sleep last night. My mind was busy imagining the killings of innocent people hundreds of years ago. I wish he hadn’t told me. I wish I hadn’t been such a brat. It’s my own fault. I should have just let it go. He warned me. I know better than to pry into things I shouldn’t. I just can’t stop thinking about how many lives were pointlessly taken. I wonder if they kept records of every time someone was...“disposed” of. I wish Charlie was here. I wish I was home. I wish there weren’t hundreds of fucking DEAD PEOPLE STALKING ME OUTSIDE THE HUT!!! I need to move on. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be stuck here, but it’s only the third day. Here’s hoping there are fewer days ahead of me.

  “Hey there,” Roy said, his tone apologetic. He’d startled her. She didn’t even notice him approach, as she was curled up in a chair writing in her journal.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice somber.

  He looked down at the floor, his hands in his pockets and his feet nervously kicking at the ground like the school nerd about to ask the head cheerleader to prom.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I shouldn’t have told you. It’s my fault.”

  Grace sighed and put down the journal.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I pushed the issue. I’ve been pushing it ever since I woke up here. I shouldn’t have.”

  “I just don’t want you to have the impression that—”

  “Roy,” she cut him off. “You weren’t there. It happened a long, long time ago.” Roy nodded, his eyes red and swollen. “You didn’t do any of those things. You’re not those people. And I still trust that you’re doing the right thing by making us wait it out. Okay?”

  He nodded again vigorously, fighting back more tears.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She waited as he took a few deep breaths, rubbed his eyes. She noticed that behind him, one of the double doors to the kitchen was propped open.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “We need food. The deli meat is gone. I have to open the freezer.”

  Grace felt her heart tick a couple extra beats.

  “Right now?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s daylight,” Roy said. “Just like you preferred.”

  Grace knew they’d eventually have to get into the freezer. It was likely that George and Cheryl were frozen by now. They’d been in there nearly four days. She wasn’t sure how long the human body could sustain that kind of cold, nor did she know how long an undead could sustain it, but she was certain that neither George nor Cheryl was a threat at the moment.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  They walked into the kitchen together. Roy passed by a knife block. He reached and pulled out a carving knife.

  “You’re going to open the door,” he said, handing her the key. “When you do, I’ll take out whatever charges our way.”

  Grace nodded. Together they counted to three. On three, Grace yanked the door open. Roy braced himself, lunging in a warrior stance, uncertain of what would happen. After a few seconds, he stood up straight, and stared into the freezer.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “I think I see your friends.”

  Grace poked her head around the door. There, huddled in the back corner of the freezer, were George and Cheryl. She recognized George’s face. He looked like a porcelain doll. He sat on the cold floor with Cheryl stuck in his frozen clutches. The broken mop handle was no longer in Cheryl’s skull; Grace assumed George had removed it.

  “I don’t know anything about these things being frozen,” Roy said. “No idea if they can come back or not. We might want to consider getting rid of them.”

  “It should be fine,” Grace said. “He was still alive, and I killed her after she’d turned.”

  Roy thought about this for a moment. “We should probably get them out of the hut at some point.”

  Grace shook her head. “Tomorrow. Let’s just get something we can make for dinner.

  They both entered the freezer and pulled out steak, fish, pork, chicken, and frozen vegetables.

  That night, they dined on prime rib, steamed broccoli, and corn. Grace had even found a bottle of Cabernet that, surprisingly enough, complemented the steak nicely. They ate until they were full, careful to eat all that they took so as not to let anything go to waste.

  Later, while Grace was getting ready for bed, she saw Roy standing by the large window. She stepped over to his side.

  “Numbers dropping yet?” she asked.

  Roy squinted out into the night. “You know what, I think they are.”

  Grace felt her heart leap with excitement. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Take a look for yourself.”

  Grace looked out into the night, allowed a moment for her eyes to adjust. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. She told herself not to be swayed by Roy’s opinion. What do you REALLY see? she asked herself before opening her eyes.

  She scanned the crowd and watched the lines of undead shift back and forth. She looked beyond the large group and out toward the lake. There was a small, bare patch of grass on the eastern side of the lake. It had been occupied by the undead the day before.

  She almost jumped up and down. The immediate crowd hadn’t thinned out, but farther back, the crowd wasn’t as deep. The undead were...dying.

  “I don’t believe it!” she said.

  “I know. I thought the same thing,” Roy replied.

  “The crowd doesn’t extend back as deep as it did before!” Grace wasn’t aware that she’d raised her voice.

 
“I know it’s exciting,” Roy said, “but you’ll want to keep it down a bit.”

  “Shit, sorry,” she said, finally realizing how loud she was.

  Roy chuckled, “It’s okay. It’s good to find something to be happy about, huh?”

  “Damn, you bet your ass!” she said.

  They laughed a bit more before finally going to bed. They took turns pointing out more areas outside that had previously been occupied by the undead. Grace began to feel hopeful for the first time in days. The decrease in numbers of the undead felt like a small victory, but it was something to hold on to. She was certain that the numbers would continue dropping from this point on. Grace thought about Charlie and how happy he would be now that it seemed like there was a chance she was going to make it out of there alive. She wasn’t aware that she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  Chapter 18

  Day Four Lockdown

  The undead are finally dying off! God, that doesn’t make any sense when I read it back. Still, I can’t believe it. I feel like we’re actually going to make it. I know it’s just a small number, but if the numbers continue dropping, the undead might be gone in a few days. Who knows how many more might disappear in another day or two! Or three! I badly wish that Charlie was with here. I know he wanted me to get off this mountain alive. I feel like it’s actually going to happen. It’s his spirit that keeps me going. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to fulfill his last wish.

  George’s and Cheryl’s bodies proved to be more difficult to remove than expected. Cheryl’s wounds alone had bled out so much, both their bodies stuck to the floor and walls of the freezer. Roy used the broken mop to dig around them, chipping away at frozen, blood-soaked hair and skin. Grace used a steel spatula to loosen up frozen blood that had fused them to the floor.

  At one point, Grace had been working on one of George’s arms, which had frozen to one of the steel racks. Grace had been attempting to loosen the arm when her foot slipped on the icy floor, sending her tumbling toward the dead bodies. When she collided with George, she felt his arm break off at the shoulder.

  Grace turned to Roy, who’d stopped what he was doing. She raised an eyebrow, asking him wordlessly if he was thinking what she was thinking. Roy nodded thoughtfully. If they could break up the bodies into pieces, it would be easier to dispose of them both.

  Roy set the broken mop handle down on the floor and grabbed onto a couple racks to steady himself. He checked his footing to make sure he wasn’t going to slip. Then, with sheer brute force, he raised one leg and brought it down on Cheryl’s left arm. The arm separated and hung there. After a few more heavy stomps of Roy’s boot, Cheryl’s arm came loose, but the fabric of her sleeves held together. Roy grabbed her hand and pulled the arm out. He examined it for a moment.

  “I suppose this will make them lighter to move,” he said. “The clothing won’t weigh much, even if it is frozen.”

  They both continued to dismember the bodies as much as possible. In the end, they were able to take both of Cheryl’s arms, one of George’s, and both of Cheryl’s legs. George’s legs were frozen under Cheryl. Blood and moisture had all but left him fused to Cheryl’s torso.

  Roy wiped sweat away from his forehead. He turned toward the freezer door, which was open.

  “I don’t want to waste any time in here letting them thaw,” Roy said. “Go take a look down the hallway, see if we can throw them outside right now.”

  Grace quickly stepped out of the kitchen, walked through the common room and down the main hallway. Even during the day, it was dark in the halls since all the doors were closed, but the main door had a window which let in a fair amount of light.

  She reached the door and peered outside. The undead paced around aimlessly. If she and Roy opened the door quickly and shoved George’s and Cheryl’s bodies outside, the undead might be too stunned to react before they closed the door. It was worth a shot.

  She ran back to the kitchen. Roy was already dragging the ice-stiffened bodies out into the common room.

  “How’s it look?” Roy asked.

  “I think if we’re fast enough, they’ll never know what happened,” she said. “By the time they figure it out, we’ll be closed and locked up again.”

  “Good,” he said, struggling to move the frozen mass of death. “Help me drag this mess down the hallway. We’ll take care of the arms and legs after.”

  Dragging both bodies down the hallway wasn’t half the chore that chipping them out of the freezer had been, but it wasn’t easy, either. Two frozen-together bodies moved like a square across a flat surface. A three-hundred-pound square. Their bodies were solid, so getting a grip was easy, but sliding them across the carpeted floor in the hallway was a challenge.

  When they reached the door, they were both breathing hard.

  “Are you ready?” Grace panted.

  “Give it a minute,” Roy said, heaving deeply. “Let’s catch our breath a bit before we do this.

  Grace stood and looked out the window. The undead continued to walk back and forth just outside. The idea was to slam open the door and knock over several of them in the process. At the same time, Roy would push the bodies down the steps. It would be easy.

  “All right,” Roy said, his breathing slowing down. “Let’s do this.”

  Grace pressed her weight against the door and gripped the handle with both hands. Roy shimmied the two bodies up as close as possible, giving Grace enough room to throw the door open. He got to his knees and placed his right hand on the back of George’s neck, his left hand behind his back. What was left of Cheryl’s corpse lay in a heap in front of him.

  “When I say ‘now,’ open the door,” Roy said. She nodded.

  He wiped the sweat off his forehead, took a deep breath.

  “Now!”

  Grace forced open the door. She’d expected to slam into an undead, but there were none. The door simply swung open all the way, and the handle slipped from her hand and slammed loudly against the side of the hut. Several of the undead nearby stopped and turned immediately upon hearing the disturbance.

  Roy leaned into the frozen bodies, pushing with every bit of leverage he had. His right hand, greased up by his own sweat, slid up George’s neck toward the back of his head, snapping it cleanly off his neck. Roy fell forward, propelled by his own force. He tumbled over the two bodies and halfway down the steps. A dozen of the undead ran to the door. Awkwardly, Roy pushed himself backward, up the steps and into the doorway. Grace watched as he tried to back into the hut while simultaneously attempting to push the bodies out the door. She reached out and pulled on the frozen bodies to help.

  “Don’t worry about me! Get the door!” Roy shouted.

  Grace let go of the bodies and reached back for the door. She pulled it around, closing it against the bodies that were now half outside. Fuck it, she thought. She let go of the door and it whipped open, slamming against the hut a second time. Again she gripped onto George’s arm. She pulled the frozen mass out over the step while Roy pushed from behind.

  An undead suddenly approached the door. He gnashed and clawed at Roy, tried to pull him outside. Roy fought him off with his one free hand while still pushing the frozen bodies out the door. The undead grabbed his arm. Roy tried again to shake it free, but this time it held on tight.

  “Get him off me!” Roy shouted.

  Grace let go of the frozen mass and came around to Roy’s left. She kicked repeatedly at the zombie’s hand, but its grip was like a vice. Roy was now sitting down completely, pulling his arm against the zombie’s grasp and pushing against George and Cheryl. Miraculously, the leverage was enough to force the frozen bodies out the door and down the steps.

  Grace held on to the door jam and continued kicking at the zombie’s arms, but it held on.

  Then, without warning, a second zombie, a woman, came from the right. She wasted no time bypassing the struggle completely and lunged for Roy’s exposed arm. He howled in agony as her yellowed, jagged teeth sank into his
arm. She shook her head viciously and removed a patch of skin the size of a credit card. Blood sprayed onto the faces of Grace, Roy, and the two zombies. Unable to see, the first zombie let go of Roy’s arm. Grace ran around to the other side of the door way and shoved a foot into the female zombie’s face. As the undead woman stumbled backward, Grace reached out for the door handle, swung it closed, and locked it.

  Grace fell to the floor and backed into the corner. The terror was over for the moment but her adrenaline was racing. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Roy’s wound. Roy squeezed his eyes closed, grimacing from the pain. Instinctively, Grace got up and ran down the hallway and into the kitchen. She grabbed a towel off of one of the counters and ran back down the hall toward Roy.

  “Let me see it,” she said.

  “Don’t bother,” Roy said through gritted teeth.

  “Give it to me!” Grace shouted.

  Roy complied and let her wrap his arm. The blood quickly soaked through the white towel, turning it a cranberry color.

  “It’s pointless,” Roy said, still out of breath.

  “I don’t care!” Grace yelled again stubbornly. “I don’t fucking care!” Tears now formed in her eyes.

  When she finished wrapping Roy’s arm, she stepped back and watched as he held the towel against the wound. The blood had now soaked through so much that it started to stream down his hand and fingers. Grace was sobbing.

  “It’s all right,” Roy said without looking. “It’s only a flesh wound.” Now he looked up at her with a small grin.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. Her voice stuttered as she sobbed. “It’s my fault.”

  Using his good arm, Roy put his hand on the ground and propped himself up on one knee.

  “It’s nobody’s fault,” he said, standing up straight. “It was a good idea. Just poor execution.” His face showed the look of defeat, but also of acceptance.

  “Roy, you’re gonna—”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I know what’s going to happen,” he said. “Let’s go find a few fresh towels and we’ll talk about this later.”