Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel

by Frank Martin

  He continued to muddle forward, but the thought of turning around crept into the back of Chris's mind. This wasn't a couple of people who didn't look well. This was a mass casualty incident. People needed help, and he was probably the only patroller even remotely close to the area.

  But what if Sarah really needed him? Was he truly willing to risk sacrificing her to do his job? Could he live with himself if she was lost? These were the questions she’d been asking him that he was refusing to answer. And now he was forced to make a split-second decision in a time of crisis. When Chris told her earlier that they would talk about it later he didn't exactly have this scenario in mind.

  He honestly didn't know what to do, but before he could make a decision, the falling snow suddenly parted, revealing a rapidly approaching figure right in front of the vehicle. The shock and surprise sent a surge of adrenaline through Chris’s body causing his arms to jerk on the handlebars. The snowmobile quickly veered to the side, averting a head on crash but still catching a leg of the unlucky soul. The collision sent the stranger's body flipping up and over Chris’s head. Not designed for such a hairpin turn, the snowmobile rocked over onto one side, slowly tipping over to its edge and leaving Chris enough time to jump off rather than being pinned under it. At the end of his leap, Chris tucked and rolled through the cushiony snow, crushing the radio on his hip and sending the skis attached to his back flying through the air.

  Once his spinning body came to a stop, Chris took a deep breath to regain his senses and figure out exactly what happened. Did he really just hit someone? He wasn't going that fast. Slow enough that he should've been able to see someone approaching through the storm. But the strength of their collision didn't accurately reflect his speed. In order for them to hit as hard as they did the other person must've been running. But why?

  Uninjured, Chris briefly lamented the loss of his radio before quickly scrambling to his feet, hoping and praying that the victim of their collision wasn't seriously hurt. He could barely see the turned over snowmobile through the storm but the loud roar of the motor allowed him to find it easily enough. The engine continued to run as Chris approached it, but then slowly puttered out from lying on its side.

  Chris kept moving past it and soon came to the dark figure, a man, thrashing about in the snow like a wild animal. As a patroller, Chris had responded to situations like this more times than he could count. But he'd never been the one who caused it before. It was his fault and that scared the shit out of him.

  Chris slowly approached, unsure as to how he should react. Although writhing around, the person wasn't saying anything, screaming or otherwise. And as he got closer, Chris noticed silence wasn't the only peculiar thing about the incident. His victim's face was ghostly white, paler even than Chris’s previous patient, but the stranger looked to be full of vitality. And he was raging mad. Almost feral. Rabid even. Like a furious madman with beady eyes of anger, the stranger's arms pointlessly reached and grasped in Chris’s direction trying to reach him. His teeth sneered and chomped while he rolled from side to side on his back, futilely trying to get up. It was then that Chris looked down and saw the man's leg bent backwards and twisted to the side, a crippling injury from the crash.

  Chris's heart sunk deep into his chest. In all his years as a patroller he helped countless numbers of people on the mountain, but now all he could think about was the one he deformed for life. He stood there in the snow, mentally frozen and unable to act. The man would surely lose his leg and had every right to be angry.

  From such a horrific injury, the man surely had to be in unbearable pain. Chris noticed his rage though didn't seem to stem from the accident. It looked as if there was some other force driving the man to anger. The patroller's training started to kick in as Chris felt the urge to begin questioning the man, though he wasn't sure if he would even be able to get a response. The victim was completely conscious and alert, but with the exception of a few animal-like snarls, had yet to say a word

  And then Chris realized the weirdest part of the whole scene. The man, who looked enraged with boiling blood, laid in snow wearing nothing above his waist but a single thermal top. No hat, gloves or jacket. He still had on a pair of ski pants and boots. But other than that, the man looked as if he had just undressed.

  Before Chris could think any further, a woman's scream of terror rang out from behind him. And with that horrifying noise, a shockwave of fear bolted its way through Chris’s mind. He'd heard screams before. Wails of pain and agony. But this was something else. Any experience he had dealing in a crisis under pressure had vanished and was replaced by paralyzing dread. He had a feeling something wasn't right in Telluride today, and that scream confirmed it.

  Like a petrified boy, Chris slowly turned to the direction of the scream, which looked like nothing but a swirling space of white snow. Completely forgetting about the ravenous man he had just hit with the snowmobile, Chris started to slowly walk forward. He was cautious and curious as to how and why the woman screamed as she did. He wanted to know the answer but was fearful of it at the same time.

  Slowly but surely, the white wall of snow before him faded with every step. Little by little the gigantic wood cabin that was Joseph’s came into view. First, the long, modern logs appeared protruding into the sky. Then, right in front of him Chris noticed the long rows of ski racks completely filled with equipment. And last, as he finally approached the front of the lodge, a nightmarish scene of death revealed itself within the snow. Men and women covered the entryway to the building, biting, chewing and tearing each other to pieces like deranged animals.

  Chris had stopped in his tracks, still unable to comprehend the destruction. For a moment, all he could do was watch and survey the murderous scene from amidst the freezing wind, trying to make sense of the madness. A steady coating of red covered every inch of snow by the entrance, but blood continued to spurt in every direction from more sources than Chris could count. A wave of people consumed by panic poured through the doors to get outside only to be grabbed and dragged back inside by the crazed mob.

  Chris remained in his trance of disbelief until screams and shouts for help echoed out from inside the building. The sounds of those helpless people snapped Chris back to his purpose. He had come here for Sarah.

  Without a second thought, Chris’s legs kicked into gear, bringing him head first into the insanity. He charged through the chaotic scene, weaving in and out of people being mutilated all around him. Both the victims and their attackers were too pre-occupied with their own safety or bloodlust to notice him. And now, Chris was too driven to care. With the danger Sarah was in pressed right in front of his face, the only duty he felt was to the woman he loved. He kept feeling that strength within him grow, even as he lowered his shoulder and barreled into the lodge’s thick wooden front door.

  ***

  Beth hated snowboarders. Didn't matter how old they were or how they acted off the mountain. Once they put on their baggy ski clothes, they were all the same in her book. Some might call that prejudice. But she admittedly grew up in a highbrow Utah community who thought all snowboarders were pot smoking degenerates. Now Beth was educated and far enough from ignorant to know that wasn't true. Yet a part of her still refused to look at them any other way. Which was why her current situation was so unbearable.

  After leaving the office, Beth quickly rushed to the gondola, hoping to make it back into town before the storm got any worse. The ride up went smoothly enough. She was joined by a young European couple looking to have a late breakfast at the restaurant in the mid-mountain station. But when they got off she was soon joined by two young snowboarders, unshaven, unrefined and reeking of marijuana. Beth was immediately repulsed by the walking stereotypes and moved over into the corner of the gondola chair, as far away from them as she could get inside the confined space.

  At first, she didn't understand why they got on the gondola. It was a standing cliché that boarders lived for weather like this. But once she really too
k the time to get a good look at their faces, Beth could see why they wouldn't want to take their chances out in the storm. Both of the young boarders represented the epitome of sickness. Most likely college students, the boys didn't exactly resemble the cleanest of specimens. But their complexion went far beyond acne and oily skin. Both of their faces reflected the same pale and dry fleshy tone, which looked all the more rough behind their uncontrollable shivering. They were obviously sick, no doubt with the illness that everyone was catching.

  Beth tried her best not to either stare or look repulsed by the sight of them, but the boys seemed fairly uninterested in her. For most of the ride down into town, the snowboarders carried on with their own blubbering conversation. Beth was grateful they were pretty much ignoring her, but at the same time, she almost felt offended. They were two young testosterone filled juveniles, and she considered herself attractive enough to at least be noticed by them. But they simply carried on talking among themselves, almost oblivious to the girl in front of them.

  Throughout the gondola's descent into town, Beth’s eyes pretended to stare out the window at the endless snowfall. But her ears were completely focused on eavesdropping, wondering what could be so riveting a topic that her passengers couldn't bother to acknowledge her. At first, the conversation puttered at a snail's pace. Both boys were completely sick and neither looked to have enough energy to carry on an engaging dialogue with one another. For the most part, all they did was complain about how awful they felt.

  But Beth could sense the tone in the conversation pick up as the snowboarders started to assign blame for their condition. Each one thought the other had gotten him sick. And that train of reasoning led to an escalating series of accusations and name calling that drastically increased the tension in the tiny gondola cab. When that topic of discussion was exhausted, the argument seamlessly transitioned into who was responsible for losing their friend on the mountain.

  Before she knew it, Beth was in the middle of a heated shouting match that made her forced presence an awkward addition. Neither had yet to acknowledge that she was there, which, surprisingly enough, made her feel even more uncomfortable. She was also taken aback by how quickly the conversation went from dull chatter to a ferocious argument. Less than a minute ago the two boys barely looked like they had enough energy to stand let alone scream at the top of their lungs. Yet there they were, sitting side by side, pointing fingers and yelling to the point where veins were bulging through their skin.

  It was only a matter of time before it all turned violent. Beth could see each boy preparing to throw fists with the serious intent to do harm. And of course, her main concern was that she was practically held captive, locked into a small, confined space with an imminent brawl. She could see them both tense up, ready to lunge at one another. This was it, she thought, just stay out of their way.

  When suddenly, the gondola car bounced up and down, the sign that the cable had entered the Telluride station. A second later the door opened, and the two friends on the verge of destruction simply exited the car and walked outside.

  Beth was speechless. She was convinced a war was about to break out in front of her. When out of nowhere the topic seemingly dropped and the two combatants left together as if nothing happened. Boys were strange.

  She sat stupefied in the car for a moment, unable to curb her adrenaline. A gondola attendant asked if she was getting off, which snapped her out of the trance. She responded by hopping out of the car and preparing herself for the blizzard just outside the small, glass station.

  Despite the ride being only thirteen minutes long, the strength of the storm was worse than when Beth jumped into the gondola back in Mountain Village. From where she stood just outside the station, the first row of shops and restaurants, located at the mouth of where the town opened up to the base of the mountain, resided about a hundred feet away. As she hurriedly scuttled over to the shelter of a cafe awning, Beth clutched the top of her coat together, scrunching her shoulders up and over her neck like a turtle trying to recede into its shell. But the futile attempt did little from stopping the wild, falling snow from penetrating its way to her skin.

  She eventually made it to the sidewalk, but the cover of the building only offered a slight reprieve from the snow. Still, the shelter was better than nothing, and she took advantage of the time by preparing herself for the walk home. It also helped that she wasn't the only one out in the storm. Anywhere else besides a ski resort, people would be hiding away at home. But in Telluride, a blizzard, no matter how strong it grew, was just business as usual.

  As Beth stood huddled by the building, she continually rubbed her arms together, trying to gain some semblance of warmth. Spying on the other travelers, either shopping or headed up the mountain, offered a distraction from the cold. Her mind drifted a bit while watching them, but her attention was soon pulled in by a faint scream coming from behind her.

  She turned back to the gondola and through the snow saw a series of black specks rolling down the mountain. Whatever they were or wherever the scream came from, Beth couldn't tell. The black specks, which grew larger in size every second they drew closer, were still too high up on the run to decipher what they were. And she highly doubted the noise had come from the few skiers and snowboarders further down the mountain who were rapidly coming towards her.

  In fact, Beth could see them all heading down way faster than they should be. It's always expected that a few riders would be bombing through the run all the way down to the bottom, but she was quite surprised to see a whole row of skiers bent over and zooming down to the mountain's base as fast as they could possibly go. The whole bizarre scene was almost like a race to the bottom.

  Meanwhile, the sporadically placed specks higher up on the mountain continued to follow behind them, growing larger and larger the further down they came. Beth held a hand over her face and squinted her eyes, trying to see through the snowfall. The black dots randomly bounced and bumped their way all over the hill, and Beth curiously kept her eyes on them until the objects finally started taking shape. At first, she couldn't believe what they were. It just didn't make any sense. But once the figures entered the clearing for the final run into town, Beth couldn't deny that the mysterious shapes were in fact an army of people tumbling head over heels down the mountain.

  It was truly a strange sight to behold. One which had no immediate cause, purpose, or explanation. Limbs flailed about as their bouncing bodies twisted and turned in every possible direction, dragging a sheet of loose snow along with them. All those people must’ve been seriously hurt and in incredible pain, that was if they were still conscious or even alive.

  Beth could only imagine what kind of catastrophe happened on top of the mountain that could cause such a horrific human avalanche. But her train of thought immediately shifted when she noticed the skiers preceding them had reached the base and ceased to slow down. In fact, they all hit the flat bottom of the mountain where the gondola resided and kept on going as far as their momentum would take them. Then, once they had completely stopped, the skiers and boarders popped their boots out from their bindings and took off running towards the town, leaving their equipment behind in the snow.

  Once again, Beth was dumbfounded. What the hell was going on? She grew even more confused when one of the skiers sprinting towards her at full speed kept yelling for everyone to get back and run. Beth's whole body clenched in fear at what she thought was an attack, but it quickly vanished when the man passed straight by her, never missing a step.

  Beth let out a long sigh of relief. This was a strange day that only continued to get stranger. She turned back towards the mountain just as the human bowling balls reached the base. She readied her cell phone to call for help, expecting the first body to slam into the ground. But it didn't. Instead, the bulky form hit the flat mountain base and used its momentum to roll over, springing to its feet. Without missing a beat, the person started running towards the gondola station with its arms flying all around.
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  Within seconds, a loud scream for help yelled out from inside the glass station. And before Beth could assess the situation, the rest of the living landslide hit the mountain base one by one, following the same path as the first. Except instead of running for the station they all continued straight on towards the town.

  Like many of the other pedestrians unlucky enough to be out in the street, Beth froze in place, either from fear or indecision. She wanted to run but knew it would take a moment for her body to catch up to her mind. Although it was just a few seconds, Beth wanted to make the most out of her lapse in action by surveying the mob pouring off the mountain, but there were just too many to count. They all moved so fast weaving in and out of each other like a chaotic stampede. And by the time they got close enough that Beth could make out the crazed look of deranged violence on their faces, she was able to turn around and get her feet moving as fast as they could into town.

  Behind her, Beth could hear the loud shattering of glass as the first wave of fiends bombarded the storefronts within reach. She never turned around but could hear the sounds of destruction continue intermittently between screams and more shouts for help. Either curious or catching on to the chaos, people from inside the buildings came outside and soon joined in on the mass exodus from the base of the mountain. Covered in a gigantic blanket of snow that continued to fall like bullets, the town's streets turned into a flood of people fleeing in the same direction, all being chased (and in some instances overtaken) by a wild riot biting at their heels.

  Beth continued to push on, never looking back or fully listening to the screams of pain echoing all around her. She needed to get to safety but didn't know where to go. For now, all she knew was that she needed to run. Somehow, some way, she needed to carry on fleeing for her life. And that was her last thought as a runner shoved her from behind, trampling her down into the thick layer of snow covering the street.