by Frank Martin
With his jaw dropped in shock, Chris's head stared straight ahead, but his eyes darted around the room catching glimpses of the anarchy. Giant pools of bodies and blood littered the floor as a pack of wild guests, just as crazed as the ones outside, led a chaotic massacre of defenseless men, women, and children. Without any sense, rhyme or reason to the madness, the ravenous group threw punches and kicks around freely at any "normal" person that moved. There was biting and clawing, pushing and slamming, anything and everything that could be done to cause as much death and destruction to the world around them. Screams, shouts, and cries for help rang out from every corner of the lodge. And one in particular grabbed Chris's attention enough for him to spring into action.
His legs immediately started moving in the direction of the familiar voice. Turned over tables and chairs acted as obstacles for him to leap over and maneuver around. A wide assortment of food; ribs, hamburgers, hotdogs and pizza, had been flung around the room adding to the mess. But like a man on a mission, Chris navigated the maze of crazed attackers, plowing through them with his shoulder strong and his head down in determination.
Guided by his girlfriend’s screams, Chris found a girl pinning Sarah into a wall at the corner of the lodge. Dressed in a Joseph's employee outfit, the girl looked to be jerking her arm back and forth on top of Sarah. And it wasn't until he got within reach that Chris noticed the metal fork clutched tightly in the girl's hand.
He lunged towards the attacker, grabbing her arm and stopping her from stabbing Sarah again. The girl snarled from primitive frustration, trying over and over to break free from Chris’s grasp. But the patroller held on tight while wrestling the girl off of Sarah.
As he did, Chris quickly looked up and caught a glimpse of his girlfriend. But the appalling sight of her sent a sudden shiver down his spine. Covered in cuts and bruises, her face had swollen up to twice its normal size. Beneath her tattered and torn blood-soaked shirt, a series of small yet deep punctures in her chest oozed a crimson red.
Chris gasped on instinct, causing him to balk from fighting the girl. And the momentary distraction allowed her the opportunity to throw herself back, catching Chris off guard and sending them flying backwards into a cushy pile of bodies. Without the girl holding her up, Sarah was too weak to stand and slid down the wall to the floor.
Lying on his back, Chris still held tight onto the crazed girl as she flailed around on top of him. Writhing around like a fish out of water, the girl continued to jerk her arms in every direction, hoping to wriggle free. Chris struggled to keep her contained and eventually tossed her to the side.
She hit the ground, immediately springing back up and charging at him, fork in hand ready to strike. Shocked and surprised by the young girl's ferocity, Chris just barely raised his arms in time to catch her as she dove on top of him.
Hissing and growling like an animal, the girl put all her strength into her arm, trying to force it down and through Chris’s block. On the other end of the struggle, Chris pressed hard against the girl's attack but was taken by surprise at her strength and determination. Under normal circumstances, he would've never questioned how easily he could overpower a teenage girl. Yet here he found himself, barely able to defend his own life against some crazed girl's attempt to kill him with a fork.
Chris looked over at her hand and saw the small metal object protruding out from within it. Its tiny prongs were barely sharp enough to pierce his skin. But when bearing down on top of his face, Chris would've sworn the dull weapon magnified to the size of a pitchfork ready to impale his head on its spikes.
It wasn't, though. It was a stupid kitchen utensil. And this wasn't a raving serial killer. She was just some local youngster on steroids. One who just brutally attacked the woman he loved. And he wasn't going to put up with her bullshit anymore.
Still fighting on his back, Chris reached over to grab the girl's hand, fork and all, and twisted her over, snapping her wrist while slamming her into the floor. The fork dropped free, and Chris quickly grabbed it, transitioning into his own onslaught of attacks, stabbing the girl repeatedly wherever his arm desired. Up and down like a fluid machine, the tiny fork poked holes in the girl's chest, cheeks, ribs, throat and nose. Everywhere Chris could land a strike, over and over again until her ravenous wailing simmered down to a murmur.
Whatever small semblance of life she had left finally puttered out. And even then, Chris continued to drive the fork into her body several more times before stopping and surveying the corpse he had created. When the realization of her murder eventually set in, Chris’s attention drifted back over to the wall, where Sarah rested peacefully with her eyes closed.
While the massacre still raged on all over the lodge, Chris quickly scampered on his hands and knees over to his battered girlfriend. "Damn it, Sarah. You OK?"
Ignoring his question, she struggled to slit open her eyes and peer over at the dead girl's body behind him. "She...she was a good kid."
"Yeah. A fucking honor student. Come on. Let's go."
He carefully wrapped his arm under hers and gently began to lift her up, but Sarah suddenly objected as a surge of pain shot through her body. "No-no-no! I can't."
"What's wrong?"
"It hurts...too much."
Chris could feel his teeth clench together and pointlessly punched the floor, releasing his frustration. "No! Do you see what's going on here? They'll kill you."
"I don't deserve to live."
"What are you talking about?"
Still struggling to open her swollen lips, Sarah was barely able to speak through the pain. "I couldn't...protect...them all."
At first, Chris was utterly confused and thought she was just rambling from the stress. But then he noticed that there was something different about the graveyard in this corner of the room. When he first arrived, Chris's mind was so zoned in on finding his girlfriend that he only took a brief survey of his surroundings. He hopped over and passed by so many bodies to get to her that he didn't give a second thought to the ones around him.
After hearing Sarah’s words though, he finally took the time to look at the corpses littering their isolated corner of the room. Children. Small bodies covered in blood and ripped clothes. Bite marks and stab wounds dotted their tiny frames to the point of mutilation. And if his own body wasn't surging with adrenaline, Chris wasn't sure that it wouldn't completely collapse from the heartbreaking scene.
Pushing his revulsion aside, Chris then turned back to Sarah just in time to see her mumble again. "Save...Ryan."
And upon that final word leaving her mouth, the small slats in Sarah's eyes shut, and her limp body slumped over towards the floor.
Chris reactively caught her falling shoulders but was unable to do anything more. He just stayed still, holding her, trying to process the reality that she was gone. Then, with his mind slowly reacting to the traumatic loss, he carefully leaned her over and laid her body onto the floor.
Once she was down, Chris continued to stare at her, holding back a wave of tears that wanted to explode from his eyes. He could hear the violence around him slowing down. The screams and shouts from the dying went silent one by one. Chris knew it was only a matter of time before they turned their attention towards him. But now it didn't matter. They could take him away for all he cared. Rip him limb from limb until he was nothing but a bleeding stump on the floor. Because that's all he felt like: a small man who never committed to the life he truly wanted.
The growls and roars of the feral mob around him continued, but an odd noise stood out from within the chaos. A small cry faint enough to be a whimper could be heard at Chris's side. And the grief-stricken patroller was curious enough to look over for its source.
What he found was a young boy, the same age as the bodies around him, hiding underneath a turned over table. In contrast to the squirts of blood covering Chris’s face, the boy's cheeks were drenched in tiny tears. Judging by the stern look on his fearful expression, he was obviously trying to hold them bac
k, but his attempts were proving unsuccessful as they continued to roll down to his chin.
Through his anger and anguish, Chris remembered Sarah’s final words and called out to the boy. "Ryan?"
The young child's face curiously lit up upon hearing his name but was still reluctant to move. For a moment, Chris just sat staring at him, unsure as to what he should do. Only seconds earlier he was ready to die alongside the woman he loved. Even if he wanted to live, how could he escape this madness? In less than a minute the crazed savages would mark him as their newest prey.
But this boy was a part of Sarah’s soul. Chris knew just how much she loved her students. Caring for them was her life, and it was a life she wanted to share with him. All that was over now. But as long as one of the children she cared so much for was still alive her death had meaning. He would get this boy home...no matter what.
Chris held out his hand, further calling for Ryan to join him. "Come on. I want to help you."
The boy didn't move, but Chris could see the gears in his head moving as he spoke. "Are...are you Sarah's boyfriend?"
Chris nodded his head with a smile. "Yeah. I’m Chris. She wanted me to help you. But we gotta go now."
Once again, Chris could tell the boy was thinking intensely, most likely weighing his chances of escape. So Chris took the initiative and began searching for options. It only took one spin around for him to see the closed window behind him. Chris leaned over and opened the window, immediately being met by a face full of windy snow. But he quickly turned back, signaling for the boy to move. "Out. Now!"
Ryan darted out from under the table, but his sudden movements caught the mob's attention. As one cohesive yet disorganized unit, the crazed attackers charged towards the boy from across the room. Ryan was ready to jump out the window when he briefly glanced down at Sarah's beaten body. Chris saw the boy's hesitation and quickly lifted him up and out into the storm.
He was about to climb out himself, when he noticed the boy's thermal shirt already covered in snow. In a frantic panic, Chris swiftly scattered the area and found a loose jacket and hat under a nearby body. He jerked the clothing free, causing the body to roll over, and then dove towards the window.
His upper body made it through when he suddenly stopped in mid-air. Chris tried to lift himself out, but a tight hand held onto his ankle, pulling him back inside. Still shivering from the bitter cold, Ryan grabbed onto the back of Chris’s jacket, trying desperately to bring him outside. Chris could feel more of the crazies inside trying to grab hold of him but kicked his legs around to keep them from latching on. Eventually, one of those kicks connected, and Chris could feel a hard head rock back under the sole of his ski boot.
Now free, Chris's momentum took him outside and on top of Ryan into the packed snow surrounding the cabin. With his heart still racing, Chris quickly sprang to his feet, immediately shutting the window behind him. He then shook off the snowy clothes still clutched in his hands and saw Ryan had a tough time standing in the powder up to his chest.
Feeling his troubles, Chris lifted the shivering boy from the ground and quickly brushed him off before handing over the jacket and hat. "Here. Put these on."
After dropping the hat on his head, Ryan slipped his arms through the jacket two sizes too big and struggled to zip it up with the long sleeves covering his hands. "What if they come after us?"
"Let's hope they're not that smart. Follow me."
Chris took off around the building, lifting his legs up and over the high snowfield to run. He kept moving past the side of the lodge and peeked around the corner to the front entrance. Any of the wild guests he encountered on his way in had long since gone, leaving only freshly snow-covered bodies in their wake.
Chris remained still and heard the faint commotion of movement inside the cabin. A second later, the front door to Joseph's burst open and the large mob from inside blitzed into the snowstorm. Without purpose or intentions, the crazed fiends scattered in every direction, running straight through the blizzard to no place in particular.
Chris waited by the corner for a moment until the mad dash had ended and all the psychos disappeared into the falling snow. He then turned back around to instruct the boy, but Ryan was several steps behind him, still struggling to wade through the snow up to his waist. Chris let out a sigh of frustration, not so much towards the kid but at his own failure to help him. The patroller then took a step back and reached for the boy.
After grabbing him by the baggy jacket, Chris swung him around and placed him onto his back. "Hold on, Ryan. OK? We're going to make a break for it."
He could feel the boy bury his face into the back of his jacket, either to shield himself from the cold snow or to refrain from witnessing their daring escape. Chris assumed it was probably just a combination of both and reassured him anyway. "We’re going to be fine. Just take a deep breath and hold on. I’m going to get us out of here.”
Chris prepared to take off into the snowstorm when he heard Ryan mumble out from under his muffled mouth. “Just like Austin Cage.”
An awkward smile formed under Chris’s gaiter. He contemplated responding to the boy’s remark. Then realized it wasn’t a question and wasted no time bolting off straight into the storm.
Through the whirling and whizzing of the wild snow, Chris couldn’t tell if he was headed in the right direction but figured that moving in a straight line from Joseph’s entrance was as good a path as any. The freshly fallen snow was still high up on his legs, but the often traveled mountaintop was compact and not as deep as the no man’s land behind the restaurant. Chris’s legs ran through it with ease, and before he knew it, came across the incapacitated man he hit with his snowmobile.
The accident didn’t happen that long ago, but already the man, barely visible through a mound of snow, was showing obvious signs of long-term exposure to the cold. His face looked even rougher than before, and the pallor of his skin dropped to the same shade as the snow.
But even though he moved as if his depleted energy was running out, Chris could still see the same vivid hate and murderous rage within his eyes. The man’s vicious growls had gasped out to a mere whimper, and Ryan clutched harder around Chris’s neck at the sound, even with his eyes still buried tight into the jacket.
Where once he felt utter and complete guilt at the man’s injury, Chris now barely gave him a second thought as he passed. He still didn’t know what affliction had created such violence but felt no remorse for the inhuman creature he crippled into the snow. Chris only slowed down enough to acknowledge the dying man as a landmark on his journey. It meant his means of escape was nearby.
Chris continued to tread through the snow carefully, his eyes moving back and forth in search of a large black object. He stopped for a moment and spun around in a complete circle, but all he saw was white. Even the injured man was now completely hidden from view. But then, out in the field, Chris spotted a small black rod protruding from the snow. He ran out to it without delay and saw the snowmobile on its side with the rubber handlebar sticking up like a marker. Chris started brushing off the flakes from the seat and dashboard, but then spotted a puddle of fuel burning a hole in the snow below, an obvious sign that the accident left the vehicle inoperable.
Chris slammed the snowmobile’s seat in frustration. “Shit!” He then briefly looked back over his shoulder at Ryan still holding on. “Sorry, kid. Guess we need another ride.”
Rather than waste time trying to repair the snowmobile, Chris popped up and looked around for another way down the mountain. But after a complete three sixty, he continued to see nothing.
That’s when he felt Ryan’s arm leave his neck and point over to their side. “What’s that?”
Chris turned his head and, only after squinting to focus, spotted a bright orange color emanating from under the snow. It took a moment for the sight to process, but the patroller soon realized he was seeing the reflector of his ski bindings.
Another smile worked its way onto his face as
he rubbed Ryan’s arm, which returned to its spot around his neck. “Nice work. Looks like I’ll really be Austin Cage now.”
Chris ran over to the shimmering orange spot of snow and began digging with both hands. He soon pulled out one full ski but immediately resumed his search for the other. It only took a moment for him to spot it several feet away further into the storm. He, once again, trotted over to it, but a commotion from behind them grabbed Ryan's attention.
While Chris dug the second ski out and set it up alongside the other, Ryan peeked over his shoulder to see the outline of a figure running towards them wildly through the falling snow. "Ummm...Chris?"
The patroller didn't have to turn around to know what the boy was seeing. At the same time both frantic and calm, Chris kicked the top of the binding, knocking loose the snow from his boots before carefully clicking them into the skis. It was an action he'd done a thousand times before but never with his life in danger. Chris found himself moving slower than normal, making doubly sure his boots were secure. Otherwise, he'd have to waste time doing it again.
Rather than look away, Ryan continued to watch the running figure grow larger and larger as it came into focus. "Can we leave now?"
And with that said, Chris pushed off with his skis down the flat stretch of mountaintop. At first, he moved even slower than he did on foot, his pursuer gaining ground with every step.
But Chris continued to push off through the snow, alternating between skis. Right leg. Left leg. Right leg. Left leg. His speed gradually increased just as the snowy plain started to tilt downhill. With his momentum picking up, Chris stopped pushing off and leaned forward down the mountain.
Having long since closed his eyes back into Chris's jacket, Ryan could actually feel the person at their heels reach for his back and barely miss grasping onto his arm. And with that failed attempt, their pursuer tumbled to the ground, rolling downhill in a small avalanche of snow.
Chris continued moving forward, picking up speed as the plain dipped further and further down to an incline. A barrage of snow pummeled his shielded face, limiting his visibility to a thin slice through the goggles. It wasn't a straight downhill just yet, but the faster they went, the tighter Ryan's grip grew around his neck.
