by Frank Martin
For a moment, Chris was distracted from his path down the mountain by checking to make sure the boy was secure. He was then shocked when he turned back around and saw another crazed lady running at them through the snow.
Reacting on pure skier's instinct, Chris veered to the side, narrowly missing a swipe of the wild woman's bare hand. Just as he thought himself safe, another attacker came from the side. And another. And another. Chris quickly realized he found himself amidst a pack of the mob that had frantically taken off from Joseph’s.
One by one, Chris veered and dodged to avoid every fiend's attempt to grab or knock them over. Through the cloud of falling snow, their pursuers seemed to randomly appear left and right all over the traverse. Chris could still feel Ryan’s head buried into the back of his neck, the boy's grasp growing tighter and tighter with every turn away from danger.
Eventually, the sloped mountaintop dropped off completely, and Chris passed the tree line, entering into a downhill run. The closest pursuers continued to follow him, tripping over the steep slope and falling head over heels down the mountainside. Some of the mindless fiends in front of them had already taken the plunge and were struggling to stay on their feet as they plummeted downhill.
As if in a moving racecourse, Chris leaned further over, gaining speed as he weaved in and out of the tumbling obstacles. The expert skier floated atop the freshly packed snow like a cloud, gliding past his disheveled attackers with grace and speed. He then finally broke free from the pack and darted straight downward, taking refuge into the dense woods on the side of the run.
***
"We're upstairs in the bedroom but...but I can hear them down in the kitchen. They're tearing the house apart."
Georgia took a deep breath, trying to absorb another heart-wrenching account of the brutal violence around Telluride. The police had been all but useless to stop the chaos. So instead of dialing nine-one-one, those in need had been picking up the phone and calling the radio station.
Why? Georgia didn't know exactly. Maybe in a panic people turned to an easily remembered number they've heard many times before. Or perhaps a sense of impending doom made them want to broadcast their thoughts to as wide an audience as they could.
Either way didn't matter to Georgia. It was obvious something was wrong in her town. And for whatever reason, she had fallen into the role of reporting it to the world. But it was a task that had slowly worn her down. What started off as a few people calling in about isolated incidents had turned into a full-blown catastrophe. And with each call getting more depressing than the last, Georgia felt more and more helpless.
There was no one to turn to. No one to call for help. She felt secure herself, tucked away in a small locked building on the outskirts of town. But for the others, there was nothing for her to do but take their calls and document their stories.
With the last frightened caller still on the line, Georgia swallowed deeply, trying her best to keep her own fear contained. "I think it’s best if we hang up now. You should keep quiet."
The caller responded with a soft whisper that sounded like a thank you, but Georgia couldn't tell. What she did hear was the loud click as the phone hung up soon after.
A silence filled the air, usually the cue for a radio host to say something. But Georgia remained quiet for a moment, her thoughts stuck on the previous caller's family as she privately wished them luck.
A few more seconds passed, and Georgia took her time with a deep sigh before speaking. "This isn't getting any easier, folks. And it sure doesn't seem to be slowing down. But as long as we're on the air I'll be taking all the calls I can."
She then looked over to the caller ID screen, which displayed the information for every phone number coming in. The monitor was completely lit up, flashing names and numbers non-stop like a roulette. The station had never seen this amount of phone traffic before, and without a screener Georgia couldn't place anyone on hold. Fielding calls as they came in was the best system she had. Good thing there was no shortage of them...or maybe that was a bad thing.
Georgia contemplated which caller to choose next. Usually, she picked at random, not wanting to play favorites to anybody she might've known. But while scanning the list a name of interest popped out at her: Mountain Village Hall. Who it was at the office or why they would be calling she couldn't know for sure.
But it made her curious enough to pick up the line. "All right, TORO listeners. We have an interesting caller next from Mountain Village's government office. Hello, can you hear me?"
"Yes. Yes, I can."
It was a man's voice. Georgia didn't recognize it. Then again, she didn't know anybody who worked in the Telluride government, so it wasn't surprising. "Hi, sir. Can you tell us your name?"
"My name is Peter Hayden. I was the financier behind Mountain Village’s construction and have held the office of Village Manager since its founding."
Georgia was taken aback for a moment. Next to the Mayor of Telluride, this man was the second highest government official in the area. But she didn't know what surprised her more: whether he actually called into the station or whether he called in from his office and not some isolated safe house made especially for the rich and famous. "Mr. Hayden, thanks so much for calling in. I hope you're safe and that maybe you have some official announcement for us?"
"I do."
Georgia could hear strain in the man's voice. She couldn't imagine what he'd possibly been through in the last couple hours but could actually feel the man's stress oozing through the phone as he continued on. "As most of you know, the massive blizzard which hit our town has been the least of our problems. Since this morning, a health crisis has plagued the region and was soon followed by an unprecedented wave of violence. It all happened so fast I couldn't possibly give you an explanation. And I'm sorry to say our law enforcement and emergency services have been insufficient to handle the panic.
“That said, I've spoken with the mayor and together we've declared an official state of emergency. As we speak, he's on the phone with the governor requesting any and all assistance available to us. Military and medical personnel will be arriving shortly. If you're listening to this broadcast, all I ask is that you please stay calm and take shelter. Help is on its..."
The last word of Mr. Hayden's sentence was cut off as the sound room window shattered into a million pieces in front of Georgia. Shards of sharp glass flew through the air to the other side of the room, showering the girl’s face and body as she toppled over in her seat.
In the sudden chaos, Georgia looked up to see Malcolm flying through the window straight at her. Sparks shot out from the trampled control room panel behind him as he used it as a springboard to propel himself forward. Her boss was now soaring through the air, tangling his body into the microphone as he fell down on top of his DJ.
Reacting on instinct, Georgia immediately kicked and clawed her boss away as she got to her feet. Confused and disoriented, she took a quick survey of Malcolm’s face and saw nothing but animal rage. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging from his skull, represented a crazed anger that was further amplified by the snarling sneer in his mouth. It was an appearance that'd been described to Georgia many times over the past hour but that she'd yet to see in person for herself.
Regardless of the adrenaline pouring through her, Georgia wanted to stop and think for a moment. Maybe talk to Malcolm. Ask him what happened to make him like this. But she had heard this story enough times to know there was no point. Regardless of their friendship, Malcolm West wouldn't stop his assault until she was dead. And there was nothing for her to do but hide.
The crazed attacker scrambled to get off the floor, cutting his hands on the shards of glass spread under him. Georgia wasted no time getting to the door, but she could feel Malcolm right behind her. Without form or thought, he threw himself forward, slamming his body into the radio equipment standing between him and the exit.
As she ran down the hall, Georgia could hear Malcolm destroying everythin
g in the room that stood in his way. She stopped for a moment, listening to the utter and complete destruction taking place behind her. And that's when she realized running was pointless. Where would she go that he couldn't find her? How could she escape someone so determined to catch her? Over and over she'd taken calls from people doing just that, and all it did was leave them waiting helplessly in fear. She wouldn't allow herself to be put in the same position. She had to fight.
But Georgia's spike in bravery was interrupted by an attack from behind. A strong force slammed into her back, tackling her to the ground. Georgia managed to spin around to her back and once again found Malcolm on top of her, gnashing his teeth in her face.
She’d been distracted, allowing Malcolm time to climb back through the control room window and enter the hall from the other side. But Georgia couldn't think about that now. She literally had her hands full trying to keep Malcolm’s face back and away from her own. As he continued to push himself closer, her boss swiped repeatedly at her arms and face, scratching and clawing shards of skin with his fingernails. Georgia screamed from the pain but never stopped pressing back against the maddened fiend on top of her.
She finally found an opening in Malcolm’s attacks to scrunch her knees up and kick him away. The large man lifted off of Georgia's body just long enough for her to pop up off the floor. But he stood just as fast and lunged forward again, quickly grabbing the girl from behind and slamming her into the wall. Georgia had just enough time to brace herself for the impact and remained tense as Malcolm relentlessly dragged her down the hallway, slamming her body back and forth as he walked.
Finally, Malcolm spun around once more and flung Georgia's body through a door, breaking it off its hinges and sending her falling into the station's small server room. No bigger than a closet, the room's walls were lined with towers of computers acting as the controls for the radio's broadcasting network. The dark room was illuminated by a series of colorful lights flashing from the system, and Georgia peered up from the darkness to see Malcolm’s big figure leering through the doorway. The light from the hall shined bright behind him, but the random green and red flashes from inside the server room lit up his menacing face like a horror movie.
While looking up at the man who desperately wanted to hurt her, Georgia assumed she would be afraid. After all, her life was in danger of ending at any moment. Fear would be the natural reaction. But surprisingly, she wasn't. There was an eerie calm that came over her, along with a strange feeling of remorse. Because although she had no other choice in the matter, Georgia knew she was going to kill her friend. She'd never killed anyone before, and under normal circumstances, no person would ever assume someone of her size could beat an individual as big as Malcolm in a physical confrontation. But Georgia took pride from proving people wrong. She'd been doing it her whole life. And regardless of how fucked up this situation might’ve been, somehow, someway, she was still going to win.
One more time she sprung to her feet, triggering Malcolm to charge at her full speed. She planted her feet, hoping to stop him head on. But Malcolm’s brute force plowed straight through her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the tower at the back wall of the room.
Georgia’s head snapped back, hitting the hard case of the server. Disoriented from the blow, she dropped her arms, letting her guard down for Malcolm to sink his teeth into her neck. A sharp pain radiated out from the wound, bringing Georgia back from her daze. She then let out a tormented scream of agony as she pounded her fists into her attacker's back. But it was no use. Malcolm dug his jaw deeper and deeper into her neck, refusing to let go.
Finally finding a rage of her own, Georgia grabbed onto the sides of Malcolm's head while pulling herself away from him. The hold he had onto her neck was too tight, but Georgia dug down deep for the strength to break free from his grasp, ripping and tearing her own flesh still clutched between his teeth. With blood seeping out onto her shoulder, Georgia's skin stretched to its limits until it finally broke under the stress, releasing her from his mouth.
In a moment of freedom, Georgia quickly turned around and grabbed onto the tower behind her. She began rocking the thick metal frame back and forth in an attempt to tip it over, but Malcolm resumed his assault by wrapping his arms around her body and biting down on her neck once more. Again, blood oozed out from Malcolm’s lips, but Georgia was now numb to the pain and ignored it while resuming to uproot the heavy tower.
With Malcolm’s strong arms squeezing from behind, Georgia lifted both legs and started pressing them against the tower. It continued to rock back and forth, swaying a little further with every kick. Georgia ground her teeth, still blocking out the pain from her neck until she finally pushed off as hard as she could, sending her and Malcolm falling backwards to the server room floor.
The force of hitting the hard tile stunned Malcolm for a moment, releasing his hold from Georgia's neck. While the fall took its toll on her as well, Malcolm’s body cushioned her from the worst of the blow. She managed to stay aware enough to notice the tower in front of them finally teetering to its edge. The lumbering stack of metal slowly leaned further and further until it eventually tipped over, beginning its descent towards the floor.
With the tower quickly dropping towards her, Georgia rolled off of Malcolm just in time to narrowly miss being crushed under it. She didn't see the tower land but assumed from the loud crunch of bone and flesh that it fell right on top of her attacker, killing him instantly.
For the moment, Georgia felt content to lay still with her face buried into the ground. The lack of movement next to her meant that for the time being she could relax, not that she had the strength to move anyway.
Without ever lifting her head, Georgia used whatever energy she had left to say a small goodbye to the friend laying dead underneath the server next to her. And then she let out an exhausted sigh, closing her eyes and fading asleep on the cold floor of the room.
11
The Telluride Regional Airport was famous for a lot of reasons. One being that it was the highest commercial airport in the country. At over nine thousand feet above sea level, inexperienced pilots often dreaded navigating the mountainous terrain in the surrounding area. To make matters worse, beyond the airport’s single runway waited a thousand foot drop straight down off a cliff. So when taking off, pilots had only one of two options: fly or plummet to their deaths.
For these reasons, many of the flying conditions for TEX were limited. The weather had to be pristine and the plane had to have a full tank of gas when taking off to fight against the altitude. As a forty-year veteran of the skies, Captain Eric Hitchens knew these restrictions all too well. But still simply yes'd his boss to death rather than trying to argue with him over the phone.
So for the past hour the captain sat looking out the window and waiting. The falling snow had piled up to several feet all around the airport’s small terminal building, which only consisted of a single check-in counter and a one-man security detail. Several small planes peacefully sat just outside the building off to the side of the runway, many of them already buried under the snow.
Minus a few stranded travelers and pilots chatting behind him, Captain Hitchens enjoyed the peaceful whistling of the wind outside. It was a sound he usually only heard alongside a loud jet engine. He would like to have shared the moment with his co-pilot Janet Thorn, but she opted to wait out the storm being social with the others.
Although her senior by several decades, Eric actually enjoyed Ms. Thorn's company. As a professional pilot, he missed a great deal of his own daughter's childhood. He was constantly in the sky working and even now still rarely found time to visit his grandchildren. But Eric also felt he was making up for his shortfalls as a father by being something of a mentor to Janet. Piloting came natural to her, but she was still learning the delicate nuances of privatized aviation. And Captain Hitchens took pride in showing her the ropes.
Just as his reminiscing began, Eric’s nostalgic memori
es were interrupted by the faint grumble of a diesel engine out in the storm. He slowly stood from his seat and moved closer to the window. The only road that led to the terminal winded down and around the entire airport, disappearing from view underneath the mountain it rested on. The area was technically outside the town limits and primarily filled with dirt roads. But upon its opening, the first thing the airport did was pave a main route from the terminal straight into Telluride seven miles away. However, that was all meaningless now with several feet of snow built up on top of the road.
Unless of course, you had your own personal industrial sized snowplow to bring you wherever you wanted. And that's exactly the noise Eric was hearing. It continued to grow louder until the bright yellow machine eventually peered over the ridge and into view. At fifteen feet high, the overbearing machine looked like it belonged on a construction site rather than the road. It did, however, look more at home when it revealed the Town of Telluride seal on the side of its body as it parked.
There was little doubt in Eric's mind that his boss was inside the vehicle, but he couldn't imagine how he wrangled a town-owned snowplow to act as his own personal chauffeur.
That was until Scott Brooks jumped out of the passenger seat, throwing a wad of money back into the cab. Without a band holding them together, the green bills scattered every which way in the air. And Brooks reached back inside, carefully pulling someone out with him.
Captain Hitchens couldn't tell who Mr. Brooks had under his arm as he hurried them both inside through the snow. The mystery guest had his head down and shuffled his feet as though he was struggling to walk. The man was hunched over, forcing Scott to help carry him to the terminal. And it was only when they got close enough for the captain to see the man's large physical size that he realized it was Charlie Young, his boss' driver and bodyguard.
