A doomsday blizzard hit just before Christmas. The zombie virus exploded. Our fortress was a top-tier ski resort. Now, it was about to fall.

My husband, Ethan, was a former Navy SEAL. Our head of security. He swore his defense system was foolproof.

The blizzard knocked out the power.

But he’d sent all the backup generator fuel to the summit. Just to light up a Christmas tree for Chloe. He even had a few guards up there with them, throwing a party.

In my last life, I fought him. I herded everyone into the last bunker.

But Chloe whined. A crowded Christmas was boring, she said.

She stormed out of the safe room and ran right into the jaws of the horde.

Ethan carved a path through the horde to secure the walls. Then he sat in silence, cradling Chloe’s bones.

He pretended he wanted to start over with me. He let me get pregnant with his child.

The day I gave birth, he knocked me unconscious and dumped me into a nearby zombie nest.

He always rescued me just before I died. He’d inject me with a serum that kept me from turning.

Nineteen times, he threw me to the zombies.

I died in agony as they tore the flesh from my bones.

"If you hadn't sabotaged my defenses," he’d hissed, "if you hadn't crashed our party and led the horde right to us, Chloe would still be alive!"

I opened my eyes. I was back. Christmas Eve.

Before Christmas, the zombie apocalypse came. My husband threw me, his wife who had just given birth, to a horde of zombies because of his lover. I was eaten alive.

My eyes snapped open and shot to the clock on the wall. December 24th. 11:47 PM.

I was back. Christmas Eve.

The final blizzard was closing in. The horde would be here in thirteen minutes.

No time.

I shoved through the crowd, sprinted to the control room, and slammed the emergency broadcast button.

A piercing alarm shrieked through the entire building.

“Everyone, listen up.” My voice echoed from every speaker. “A blizzard is approaching. Winds will hit 120 miles per hour. Temperatures will drop to minus thirty. More importantly—”

I paused for a second, watching the panicked faces on the security monitor.

“A horde of zombies is using the storm for cover. They’re closing in on us. Everyone, get to the B3 bunker. Now. This is not a drill.”

An explosion of noise erupted from the main hall.

Screams. Sobs.

People began to stampede towards the stairwells.

My assistant, Marcus, went white. “Scarlett, are you insane? Ethan didn’t give the order—”

“Where is Ethan?”

“He’s… he’s at the summit. With Chloe. They're having a Christmas party.”

I let out a cold laugh.

Of course.

Without me to stop him this time, he got his Christmas party after all.

Angry shouts rose from the hall. “Where is the Captain of the Guard? We need Ethan!”

“Who put the doctor in charge?”

I keyed the mic again.

“You want Ethan?” My voice was as cold as a blade. “Your great captain is on the summit. Having a Christmas party with his little mistress. He took all the fuel for the backup generators and hauled it up the mountain, just to light a Christmas tree for her.”

A sudden silence.

Followed by even greater chaos.

“That’s impossible!”

“Ethan would never do that!”

“She’s lying!”

Just then, the first red light on the console began to blink.

Perimeter Defense Grid: LOW POWER.

Then a second light blinked red. A third.

The technician’s face went ghost-white. He stared at the monitor. “Oh my God… the perimeter radar is offline. The infrared sensors are dead too. We’re blind.”

I pushed him aside, trying to restart the backup power.

The fuel reserve gauge read zero.

It had all been sent to the summit.

“Let me contact Ethan.”

Martha’s voice cut through the noise. She sat in her wheelchair, her face a mask of cold fury.

She activated her private comms. An encrypted unit from her days as a federal judge.

“Ethan, answer me now.”

Static hissed for a dozen seconds.

Then Ethan’s voice, tight with anger. "Mom? If Scarlett put you up to this, you can tell my 'soon-to-be-ex-wife' she's crossed a line."

In the background, I could hear Chloe's soft, soothing voice.

Martha took a deep breath. "Son, this is not a joke. The outer defenses are failing. Radar showed a massive group of hostiles approaching. You need to cut power to that Christmas tree and divert it back to the B3 defense systems, now!"

"Defense systems?" Ethan scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Mom, I checked the data myself ten minutes ago. The defense wall is secure. No signs of intrusion. All those red alerts are false alarms Scarlett triggered manually from the control room!"

I snatched the mic. "I did not! It's zombies! The sensors were physically destroyed!"

"That's enough, Scarlett!" Ethan's voice rose. "You'd sabotage the sensors just to start a panic and ruin my night with Chloe? That's a court-martial offense, Scarlett."

"Ethan, there's something in the snow out there…"

"It's your paranoia!" he snapped. "To stop you from spreading more chaos and inciting a riot out of jealousy, I've remotely locked all exit gates on the B3 level. You're safer staying put, as long as you keep your hands off the control panel."

"You locked the gates? Ethan, you'll kill everyone!"

"I'm protecting everyone from you, you lunatic!" His tone was cold, certain. "When the blizzard stops tomorrow, I'll come down with the military police. Scarlett, get ready for a court-martial."

Chloe's voice, sweet as poison, cooed through the speaker. "Aunt Martha, don't let Scarlett fool you. She's just trying to trick Ethan into coming down here so she can ruin our Christmas. Don't worry, Ethan's the best. We're perfectly safe."

"Ethan! I'm your mother, you will listen to me—"

"And *because* you're my mother, I can't let that psycho use you."

The line went dead.

He really believed I was the girl who cried wolf.

Locking the gates was his idea of "keeping the peace."

Just then, the last light on the monitor flickered out.

Darkness fell.

Marcus looked at me, his eyes filled with despair. "He locked us in… with those things."

Screams tore through the B2 level.

Martha and I bolted for the stairs. Marcus stumbled behind.

The smell of blood hit us like a wall.

In the makeshift chapel, Sister Catherine was on her knees before the cross. A bloody hole gaped in her neck.

A zombie was hunched over her, greedily tearing at her flesh.

It had crawled in through an air vent.

“Oh God…” Marcus retched.

I grabbed a nearby iron chalice and slammed it into the zombie’s head.

The crunch of bone.

Black blood splattered across my face.

The zombie collapsed, but Catherine was already gone. She was still clutching her rosary beads.

“It’s not safe anymore,” I said, wiping the blood from my cheek. “The vents are compromised. They can get in from anywhere.”

Marcus’s voice shook. “We need Ethan back… only he knows how to reboot the defense system’s manual mode…”

Just then, Martha’s wheelchair rolled up.

Her face was chalk white.

“Scarlett, I have bad news.”

“Can it get any worse?”

"Ethan cut power to the gondola."

I froze.

“What?”

"I just checked the control room. The lift is dead," Martha said, her voice shaking. "He said it was to make sure the party on the summit wasn't disturbed."

Marcus’s face went slack. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re trapped,” I said with a cold sneer. “He cut off the only way up.”

“But… but how do we get the power back? The control panel for the backup generator is at the summit!”

I didn’t answer.

I was already thinking.

There was an old shortwave radio in the storage room, an emergency unit Martha kept from her days as a judge.

“Martha, does your shortwave still work?”

“It should, but why—”

I was already running for the storage room.

The radio was covered in dust, but the battery still had a charge.

I tuned the dial, searching for any government or military frequency.

Static.

More static.

Then—

“This is the Colorado National Guard, 142nd Brigade. Identify yourself.”

I almost cried with relief.

“This is the Aspen Sanctuary. I’m Dr. Scarlett. We are under zombie attack and require immediate extraction.”

A pause.

“Please repeat your location.”

“The Aspen ski resort, the converted sanctuary. Coordinates are—”

“Hold on.” The voice turned cold. “You mean the location we've marked as a Red Zone?”

“Red Zone? What does that mean?”

"According to our records, Colonel Ethan Carter filed a lockdown protocol two hours ago. The area is currently under 'Red Level Drill' and 'Internal Bio-Contamination Quarantine.'"

I was stunned. "What?"

"The Colonel's report claims internal riots and a potential influenza outbreak. He has requested full radio silence and a no-entry order. No outside forces are to intervene until he gives the all-clear."

The world spun.

Ethan was so certain of his defenses.

To keep us from bothering his little date night, to stop me from calling for help and ruining his fun, he had lied to the military and turned this place into a self-imposed prison.

"That's a lie! We have a real zombie outbreak! We need to evacuate!"

"Ma'am, please remain calm. The Colonel specifically noted in his report that rioters might attempt to use public channels to spread false panic to seek an outside breach. Please vacate this military channel immediately, or we will be forced to treat this as a hostile action."

Martha grabbed the mic. "This is Federal Judge Martha Carter! I order you to—"

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," the voice cut her off. "The Colonel's report also mentioned you were being held hostage by the rioters. For your own safety, we cannot risk entering the lockdown zone."

The line went dead.

I slammed my fist on the radio.

Marcus slid down the wall. “We’ve been abandoned…”

More screams echoed from the floor above.

More zombies were getting in.

Martha looked at me, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Scarlett. Follow me. To the back of the storage room.”

I followed her to a locked cabinet in the far corner.

She produced a key, opened the lock, and revealed an old hunting rifle and several boxes of shells.

“This was my husband’s.” She took the rifle, her movements practiced as she checked the ammunition. “We’re going up the mountain.”

“Martha, the cable line is out—”

“There's an old service trail,” she said, her voice like ice. “It's meant for snowmobiles. It's treacherous as hell, but it's our only way.”

I looked at the old woman in the wheelchair.

The determination in her eyes was stronger than any soldier’s.

“We’re going to take back control.”

More screams from upstairs.

We were out of time.

Martha was already checking the fuel on a sled.

“Scarlett, can you drive this?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

The engine roared to life.

Martha sat behind me, cradling the rifle.

We shot out of the garage and into the black, blizzard-swept night.

The wild trail was nearly invisible, flanked by sheer rock faces and bottomless canyons.

But we had no choice.

The engine whined, a lonely sound swallowed by the howl of the wind.

Up. And up.

Rocks scraped against the undercarriage of the sled.

Martha held on tight, never once telling me to slow down.

Thirty minutes later, we neared the summit.

The warm lights of the cabin glowed ahead.

That damn, enormous Christmas tree was still flashing, burning the very power that was meant to protect innocent lives.

I killed the engine.

Just then, a flare exploded in front of us.

The flare washed the world in white. Through the blinding snow, I couldn't see a damn thing.

Ethan's angry voice boomed from a loudspeaker:

"I don't care who you are! Get lost! This is private property!"

I saw a figure on the cabin's balcony.

Ethan, holding an assault rifle. A few guards stood behind him.

"This is your last warning! Back off or I'll open fire!"

I raised my hands. "Ethan! It's me! Scarlett!"

"I know it's you!" he roared. "You brought guns to storm my cabin? Are you insane?"

A bullet kicked up snow at our feet.

Snow and rock chips flew.

Martha shoved her wheelchair forward. "Stop! I'm your mother!"

Another shot.

Closer this time.

"Ethan! Look! It's Judge Martha! It's your mother!"

The shooting stopped.

I heard Ethan's confused voice over the speaker.

"What…?"

"Mom?" His voice trembled. "Is that really you?"

Martha struggled to her feet, lifting her hands high.

"Son! It's me! Martha! Your mother!"

Ethan's finger hesitated on the trigger.

Just then, Chloe’s shrill voice came from inside the cabin.

"Baby! Don't fall for it!"

She ran to Ethan's side, grabbing his arm.

"Your mom's in a wheelchair! How could she have climbed halfway up the mountain?"

Ethan froze.

"Look at the thermal signature! It's all wrong, too stiff!" Chloe went on. "That's not a person, Ethan. It's one of them, trying to trick you!"

"No… impossible…"

"Or it's a stunt double Scarlett hired!" Chloe’s voice grew sharper. "She'd stoop to anything to ruin our night, even use this disgusting trick to insult your dead mother!"

"What?"

"She's mocking your mother's memory! Using a body double to get to you!"

Ethan's face twisted into a mask of pure rage.

"Scarlett! You venomous bitch!"

He dropped the rifle and grabbed a grenade launcher.

"You dare use my mother against me!"

"Ethan! No!" I screamed.

But he had already shouldered the weapon and taken aim.

"You'll use any dirty trick to humiliate me!"

Martha saw the targeting laser from the launcher.

The red dot was on my chest.

She didn't hesitate.

In that last second, Martha launched herself out of her wheelchair. A shield of fragile bone and fierce love.

"NO!"

The grenade fired.

A fireball ripped through the night.

Martha's body exploded in front of me.

Flesh and blood rained down.

Shards of bone sliced across my cheek.

The shockwave threw me backward.

My ears rang with a high-pitched scream.

I opened my eyes. The thing in my arms wasn't a person anymore. Just a warm, wet mess of what used to be Martha.

Her face was gone.

Only one of her hands remained, still tightly gripping the old hunting rifle.

"No… no… Martha…"

My scream tore through the night.

Over the loudspeaker, Chloe’s voice was bright, triumphant.

"Wow, baby. Nice shot." She paused. "See? All quiet. Now, you should probably have someone get rid of the... mess... before the smell brings the real ones. We wouldn't want that."