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."

Heavy footsteps crunched in the snow.

Three guards came down the slope. Two of them carried a stretcher.

Jenkins was the youngest, just twenty-three.

When he saw the mangled remains, his face went pale.

"Sir… the body…" Jenkins stammered. "The shape of it… it looks like Judge Martha."

Rodriguez shot him a glare.

"Shut your mouth! The Captain said it was a trick."

"But, Rodriguez, look at the size of the hand, and that ring—"

"I said shut up!" Rodriguez snapped. "The Captain is always right! That crazy woman would do anything!"

Jenkins opened his mouth, then closed it. He said nothing.

They roughly shoveled the mess of flesh into a body bag.

Then they dragged me up from the snow.

My mind was still numb.

Martha's blood was on my face, already starting to freeze.

The cabin was warm as a spring day.

A fire roared in the hearth.

That goddamn Christmas tree dominated the living room, its lights blinking obnoxiously.

Chloe was curled up in Ethan's arms, wearing a red silk nightgown.

She looked like a frightened little bird.

"Baby, she scared me," Chloe said, her voice trembling. "How could she use a disgusting trick like that…"

Ethan stroked her hair gently.

"It's okay, baby. She can't hurt you anymore."

Then he looked at me, his eyes filled with rage.

"Scarlett, you make me sick."

He stomped on my left hand.

He aimed for my pinky finger.

The crack of bone was sharp and clean.

"Ah!"

My scream cut through the air.

"That's for disrespecting the dead," Ethan sneered.

I bit my lip, fighting through the pain, and lifted my head.

"Ethan… do you have any idea what's happening down there?"

"What's happening?"

"Because you cut the power. Because you cut the comms," my voice was hoarse. "People are dying in the dark down there. Right now."

Ethan stared for a second.

Then he let out an angry laugh.

"This again! How long are you going to keep up this lie?"

"Nurse Jenny… Marcus the technician… and six children…" I went on. "They're all dead. Because you stole the power they needed to live."

Jenkins and the other two guards exchanged a look.

Doubt flickered across their faces.

"Captain…" Jenkins said carefully. "Maybe we should check the radio?"

"Check what?" Ethan roared. "Are you going to let this psycho brainwash you too?"

"But if there really is a danger—"

"There is no danger!" Ethan cut him off. "My defense system is perfect! Look at it! There's enough power for the damn tree! How could the main grid possibly be failing?"

Rodriguez nodded. "The Captain's right. Scarlett is just trying to trick us into going down there to ruin his night."

But Jenkins couldn't help himself. "Then why are the comms down?"

"Because I cut them!" Ethan said, completely unapologetic. "To stop the rioters from spreading more panic!"

I laughed, a dead, hollow sound.

"Then explain the screams I can hear."

"What screams? I don't hear anything!"

"Because you're throwing a party! The music is drowning everything out!"

Ethan's face turned red.

"Enough! I'm sick of your bullshit!"

He barked an order at his men. "Drag her out to the balcony! Tie her to the flagpole! Let her freeze until she comes to her senses!"

"Captain, it's thirty below out there…" Jenkins hesitated.

"Good! Let her freeze to death for all I care!"

Rodriguez and the other guard grabbed my arms.

I was dragged outside.

The snow cut at my face like razor blades.

They started tying my wrists with a rope.

Just as the knot was about to tighten, a piercing alarm shrieked from the valley below.

A Black Alert. It meant total containment failure. Assumed zero survivors.

Everyone froze.

Jenkins’s face was ashen. "What… what does that mean?"

Rodriguez's voice trembled. "A Black Alert… it means…"

"It means everyone is dead," I said into the silence.

"Impossible!" Ethan rushed out of the cabin. "The system couldn't have failed!"

But the alarm kept wailing.

On and on.

The tolling of a death knell.

"My wife… my girls…" Jenkins whispered, slumping to his knees. "They were in B3."

Rodriguez was barely standing.

"My son… he's only eight…"

I watched their faces crumble, then slowly worked my hands free from the loosened rope.

I looked up at Ethan, who stood frozen in place.

"Do you believe me now?" I asked, my voice like broken glass. I gave him a terrible smile. "They're all dead. Dead because you wanted to light a Christmas tree. Dead because your perfect system was a lie."

Ethan just shook his head. "No… impossible… my calculations were correct…"

"Oh, and one more thing."

I stared right into his eyes, saying each word slowly and clearly.

"The person you just blew to pieces… the one you left to rot in the snow…"

I paused.

"That was your mother. The mother you respected so much."

All the color drained from Ethan’s face.

"You're… you're lying…"

Just then, a guttural snarl rose from the cliffs below.

Countless dark shapes scrambled up the rock face, exposed by the avalanche, moving like spiders.

Their eyes glowed red in the dark.

They had smelled the blood.

The first one scrambled over the railing. Its eyes glowed like hot coals in the dark.