Mountain Sickness: A Zombie Novel Read online

  MOUNTAIN SICKNESS

  Frank Martin

  Copyright 2017 by Frank Martin

  Part I

  Blizzard

  1

  Still stuck between the rising sun and the darkness of night, the sky's thin air shimmered into a veil of white. A full sheet of overcast clouds covered the mountaintops, and neither the blue sky nor the black night could be seen beyond them.

  It was still early morning by any standard of measurement. The air had yet to warm from the night's frigid chill, but Nellie Sheridan rather preferred her morning rides that way. At sixty-eight, she still felt better than most women thirty years younger, and waking up at the crack of dawn every morning to jump on a horse and gallop through the mountainside probably had something to do with it.

  Riding before sunrise was a habit she'd grown accustomed to since she was a little girl. Growing up in rural Colorado was hard enough, but coming from a family with a long history of ranching didn't make things easier. Before the fancy restaurants and ski resorts. Before the hippies and counter-culture. Even before swarms of miners flocked to the area like locusts looking to rape the mountain for everything she had, Nellie's family had already set up camp on the outskirts of what would later become Telluride. And they've been finding a way to prosper ever since.

  These days, Nellie's ranch was practically an institution in Telluride. She enjoyed owning a nice adventure services company that offered horseback expeditions in the summer and snowmobile tours in the winter. With an army of employees, local kids and seasonal part-timers, the business practically ran itself, leaving Nellie ample time to enjoy the outdoors with her husband any way she desired. And during their morning rides that usually meant waiting for him to catch up.

  Already a few miles from their secluded home at the ranch, Nellie sat atop her horse, Providence, overlooking the Telluride valley. Although one of the most breathtaking areas in all of Colorado, the town was practically cut off from the rest of the world. But then again, that seclusion was probably what made it so appealing.

  The rolling hills they stood upon composed the entrance to the boxed canyon and served as her primary riding territory. From her vantage point, she could see Highway 145, the main artery in and out of the area, buried beneath a steep ridge of cliffs.

  At the end of the road down below rested Telluride, a town of less than one square mile at eighty seven hundred feet above sea level. Branching off from the road, a smaller pass took cars up to Mountain Village, the artificial community built only decades ago to cater to the resort’s wealthy visitors. She could barely see the luxurious village nestled amidst the trees and ski runs. In between her and them sat a jagged field of white snow covering a rocky path that most would consider dangerous. To Nellie, it was simply the way home. Although she rarely spoke on the subject publicly, simply knowing that her family had called this place home for generations made her proud.

  Her husband, Billy, shared in her pride. And that was the reason he kept his own pace during their morning ritual. It wasn't that he lacked her ability to command his own steed. In fact, at three years her senior, he often bragged that he felt (and looked) better atop a horse than she did. But when it came to traversing the mountainside, William Sheridan just loved to take his goddamn time.

  He eventually caught up to his wife and joined her in the beautifully serene view she still found time to appreciate. “We should get back, Eleanor.”

  Billy was the only person she’d ever known to use her full name. Even her parents never referred to her as such, but she liked that he did. It was almost like a reverse pet name that was special just to him.

  The proud woman kept her eyes locked onto the peaceful scenery and had yet to acknowledge her husband’s presence. They both knew that she understood why he’d made the suggestion to head home, but he further explained it just to emphasize its importance. “Denser clouds are rolling in. There won’t be much time.”

  She finally looked up just to be sure. With the sun only slightly higher than when she arrived on the hill, the sky was still fully clothed in a pearly white sheet of overcast, but back behind her sat an army of rigid, dark clouds lined along the horizon. The overnight storm front was coming in from Denver and moved at a decent pace for something as massive as it appeared to be. Nellie swore to herself that she’d seen something bigger than it before. Problem was…she just couldn’t remember when.

  She was almost prepared to leave when a small, floating speck of white caught her eye. The graceful crystal weaved back and forth, and Nellie followed as it slowly fell through the air in front of her face. When it was finally ready to hit Providence’s neck, Nellie put out her hand and carefully caught the snowflake in her palm.

  She held it up to her face, examining its design. Nothing special. But a Cheyenne woman once told her that catching the first snowflake of a storm was often good luck. She tried to think of a wish, but nothing worthwhile popped into her head. And before she had a chance to try again, the tiny crystal melted into the ridges of her hand.

  ***

  Without any warning, the radio suddenly clicked on, sending abrupt noise throughout the quiet bedroom. “Good morning, Telluride! It is six o’clock on the nose, and you know what that means? Another wonderful wake up block with your beautiful host: Miss Georgia Croft.”

  Chris Chambers slid his arm from off his girlfriend’s bare hip and swung for the alarm clock by his bedside. His fist missed the snooze button and slammed the top of the nightstand, spilling a glass of water onto the floor. Instead of going for another attempt, Chris simply forced his eyes open and stared at the clock hoping it would turn off on its own.

  It didn’t, and the energetic DJ continued to rant. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘But Georgia, you’re on the radio. How do we know you’re beautiful?’ Well, that’s why I chose my profession wisely, folks.”

  Chris finally summoned up the strength to raise his arm for another try. But as his fingers lifted from the nightstand, he felt Sarah lean against his back to stop him. She then moved in closer to his ear and whispered softly with her heavy Australian accent. “Leave it on. I like her.”

  “Really? She’s intolerable.”

  “I think she’s funny.” With too much energy for having woken up only seconds earlier, Sarah jumped out of bed and scurried to the bathroom. “But you’re more than welcome to change the station.”

  Although spoken with kindness, Sarah’s comment was strictly sarcastic. TORO happened to be one of Telluride’s few FM radio stations. Chris briefly debated changing it, but he and Sarah both knew his options were limited.

  He ultimately decided to let the radio be as he rolled out of bed shirtless and strolled over to the window. His eyes then surveyed the beautiful view of the mountain he woke up to every morning. Ski runs that ran down into the town, referred to as the mountain’s front side, were littered with steep moguls and cliffs. The challenging terrain buried in between the thin tree lines darted and curved underneath the gondola and opened up at the mountain’s base. Like a ballplayer sizing up his stadium, the twenty eight year old never got tired of taking in the sight of the snowy trails that acted as his office.

  In the background of his personal moment, the DJ continued her routine by relaying the morning’s stories. “Not much today in terms of headlines. The president has issued a new call for peace talks amidst an increase in violence in the Middle East. Also, reports are coming in of an energy crisis in Southeast Asia that’s set to hurt the international stock market. And lastly, chair four will finally re-open today concluding a series of scheduled maintenance checks performed throughout the mountain this month.”

  The morning show moved on into a d
ifferent segment, but Chris had phased out the DJ’s voice, choosing instead to focus on the mountain’s other non-natural furnishings. From his bedroom window, which happened to be on the top floor of a two-family house he rented in the middle of town, Chris could see the gondola’s base already up and running for the early morning commuters coming from and going to Mountain Village. Designed in an elaborate “A” shape that takes its passengers up to a mid-mountain station before going back down to either side of the mountain, the gondola served as the area’s free public transportation system. It allowed residents and visitors to seamlessly traverse back and forth between the twin communities, turning this isolated Colorado valley into a modern skiing paradise.

  Off to the side of the gondola rested the archaic two-person chairlift that took the role as Telluride’s first means up and down the mountain. The lift was still operational and would turn on when the resort opened several hours later. But it was mostly a relic of the past. The ride took well over twelve minutes, way too long by today’s standards, and was only kept running as a throwback for the locals, old-timers who still appreciated the mountain’s first runs.

  Chris’s eyes followed those skinny trails up the mountain when Sarah came up from behind him, wrapping her arms around his bare stomach. “Stop stalling. You’re going to be late for work again.”

  And she was right. For Chris, waking up at the crack of dawn was the worst part of being on the mountain's ski patrol. He never considered himself a morning person and getting to his outpost on time had always been a struggle.

  Sarah, on the other hand, had always gotten ready for the day with an almost inhuman amount of energy. And it showed as she left his side to dance around the room quickly putting on her thermal ski clothes and then heading into the bathroom.

  Chris simply stood dumbfounded watching her, still in the underwear he wore to bed the night before. "How are you almost dressed already?"

  She answered him from within the bathroom while brushing her teeth. "Becauth I acthually enhoy my hob."

  "I do too. Just not what time I have to be there."

  Their conversation fell silent for a moment as the radio transitioned to a smooth jazz melody selected especially for the morning. Chris turned his focus back out the window and onto the individual snowflakes falling sporadically from the sky. He heard the sink turn off and continued the conversation, assuming Sarah had finished brushing. “What are the chances you can stop by the hut later this morning?”

  Once again, she answered him from within the bathroom. “Not good. I have a full class at nine and then a private right after that.”

  With his back still to the rest of the room, Chris laughed to himself as a morbid thought popped into his head. "Why don't you take the rugrats down Revelation Bowl? Maybe one of them will break their arm and you’ll have no choice but to see me.”

  He made the remark smiling but then looked over his shoulder to see Sarah standing in the doorway with a look of condemnation. “Not funny.”

  He shrugged his shoulders jokingly as a sign of his humble innocence, but she brushed the gesture off as she walked across the room to grab a pair of ski boots that’d been drying against the radiator. “Those kids are my life, Chris. They mean the world to me.”

  Still in his light-hearted demeanor, Chris put his hands to his chest, exaggerating the sarcasm in his words. “I thought I meant the world to you.”

  “Well, after last night’s conversation…” Continuing to quickly prepare for the day, Sarah sat down on the bed with her boots. But before putting them on, she paused briefly enough to look up at Chris with eyes of uncertainty. “…I’m not so sure anymore.”

  She turned her attention back to putting on her boots while Chris approached the bed and sat alongside her. “Come on, babe. I love you. You have to believe that.”

  She kept her head down and focused on strapping up the hard plastic of her ski boots. “Then you sure do have a strange way of showing it.”

  Chris’s head slumped into a sigh, bringing the conversation to a pause. Neither one would’ve classified the discussion they had the previous night as a fight. Their voices never rose above a casual tone, but the content of the talk had grave implications for both their lives.

  Without missing a step, Sarah popped up off the bed to move about the room, grabbing the remaining red ensemble to her ski school uniform. “Look, I don’t want to force you into anything. You know that. But you also know that we can’t keep doing this forever. The season ends, we both head home and count the days until we can see each other again.”

  After putting on her ski jacket, hat and goggles, Sarah was fully ready to head out into the cold. “I gotta run. I’m meeting some of the other instructors for breakfast.”

  “Sarah, wait.”

  She stopped at the bedroom door and turned to look back into the room, waiting for some sort of apology or last ditch effort from Chris to salvage their morning. But when he just silently looked up at her with his big droopy eyes, Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. Even in his moments of bashful shame, he still had the ability to make her smile.

  She brushed off her inconvenient giggles and forced a serious (although joking) look upon her face. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about this now. The season’s far from over. But we will eventually, mister. I love you too much to spend another summer away from you.”

  Like wounded prey, Chris sensed Sarah’s stern anger on the ropes and seized the opportunity to vanquish it for good. He stood up from the bed, still wearing nothing but his underwear, and strutted over to her in the most obnoxiously seductive dance he could muster. “You mean, you’re in love with all this sexiness?”

  She continued to fight off the growing laughter as he approached her and was rather successful at keeping a straight face to the ridiculous scene. By the time he reached her, Chris wrapped his arms around her puffy ski jacket and brought her bundled up face close to his.

  Sarah was still subduing the last of her giggles, but Chris’s demeanor had completely shifted from goofy to serious in the blink of an eye. “We’ll talk about it later. This time, I promise.”

  A wide smile of infatuation grew across Sarah’s face, and the two lovers stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds before bringing their lips together in unison. The kiss was slow and the couple savored every moment of it. They were lost in each other’s grasp, completely unaware of the fact that one of them was fully dressed to battle the snowfall outside while the other was nearly naked.

  After separating, they once again looked into each other’s eyes without saying a word. The smooth jazz still playing in the background amplified the romantic sentiment of the moment, and neither one of them wanted to ruin it. Instead, with nothing else left to say, Sarah gave Chris one last smile before turning around and heading out through the door.

  ***

  The distinct smell of bacon flew into Paul Fallon’s nostrils, waking him from the first peaceful sleep he had had in weeks. First his eyes fluttered open, followed by a long stretch and deep breath. Upon arriving in Colorado, he was worried that adjusting to the altitude would make the first night or two difficult but prepared himself by drinking plenty of water prior to the trip. The fresh mountain air rewarded his adamant planning with a peaceful slumber fit for a king.

  After sitting up off the fluffy king sized bed, he found his wife, Cheryl, entering the room with a tray of gourmet breakfast. "Morning, sunshine."

  She brought the food over to his bedside, placing it down on the nightstand. "How'd you sleep?"

  "Beautifully. You sleep in too?"

  She laughed a little at the question. "If you consider seven sleeping in? Mountain still doesn't open for a couple hours."

  Paul then remembered the blessing that was the time difference between here and back East, which allowed him two extra hours of rest while still getting up "early." But that wasn’t the only thing which made waking up this morning special. Besides the long sleep and breakfast in bed, Paul noticed
their hotel suite was much quieter than it should’ve been. He soon found the lack of noise coming from the common room disturbing and leaned over his wife to look through the crack in the open bedroom door.

  She read his mind and quickly answered his curiosity. "They're right behind me and should be back soon."

  And just then, the loud click of the front door opening echoed through the suite, followed by the continuous prattling of children's voices. Paul smiled at the sound as he leaned over and picked up the breakfast tray. "Speak of the devils."

  He placed the tray on his lap and surveyed its contents. A full plate packed of eggs, bacon and home fries complimented a cup of coffee and sliced-open grapefruit on the side. He assumed it was from the buffet downstairs and mouthed a thank you to his wife for bringing it to him. He prepared himself to dig into the food but was neither surprised nor disappointed when the slight crack in the door burst open, interrupting his imminent meal.

  Paul's fifteen year old son, Joey, was the first of his two children to enter the room. "Dad, you should’ve seen this spread! They had like six different kinds of eggs, every juice and cereal imaginable. Waffles, pancakes, French toast..."

  The boy could have gone on forever, but his father cut him off. "Good. For what we're paying for this place every meal should be a feast."

  He was referring to the Cliffs Hotel and Spa, arguably Mountain Village's most luxurious resort. Frequented by celebrities and the super rich, Paul knew it was the place to stay. His family was by no means poor, but he had to admit that the trip's price tag surprised him. Yet from what he heard, visiting Telluride was a once in a lifetime experience, and he was going to get the most out of it regardless of the cost.

  Next to walk in through the bedroom door was the Fallon's seventeen year old daughter, Stephanie. And like most seventeen year olds (regardless of being on vacation or not), Stephanie stayed busy typing away on her cell phone. "You would think a place this fancy would have better reception."