The Mountain King Read Online Free PDF Page A

waited to spring out at him. The pleasant songs of birds and the soft hiss of the wind in the pines overhead were grating, like fingernails being raked across a chalkboard. Even the blue vault of the sky seemed somehow dull and lowering, as if it wanted to press him down into the cold, dark earth. 
Mark was nearly delirious when, just before dark, he staggered out of the woods onto Route 26. With the sun setting behind him, he guessed home was in the opposite direction, so after taking a quick swig of water from his canteen and adjusting the backpack on his shoulders, he started down the road, heading east. He was anxious to meet the first car or truck going in his direction, but there was never much traffic on a road like this, so he walked on as darkness spread from the woods like an ink stain over the road. Dazed from fatigue, Mark didn’t even hear the semi bearing down on him until a blast from the air horn shattered the night. 
“Christ!” he shouted as he wheeled around on one foot and snapped up his thumb. There was a loud gasp of air brakes and the soft, tearing sound of tires skidding on asphalt as the truck downshifted and slowed to a stop. Mustering a last burst of effort, Mark walked up to the sixteen-wheeler as the passenger’s door swung open. He heaved his backpack off and clambered up into the cab. 
“Thanks for stoppin’,” he said breathlessly. 
The driver looked at him with a curious expression. “Thought I’d better. I wouldn’t want to read in the newspaper how the next truck passin’ by turned you into street pizza.” 
In his exhaustion, Mark missed the joke as he settled back against the seat and took a deep, shuddering breath. 
    “If you don’t mind me sayin’, you look like shit warmed over,” the truck driver said. 
Mark rolled his head and stared blankly at him as he nodded. “Umm. You wouldn’t by any chance be heading to Hilton, would you?” 
The driver stepped down hard on the accelerator and revved the engine. The truck growled like an angry beast in the night, and Mark couldn’t help but remember the howl that thing had made when it had attacked him the night before. 
“I’ll be passing through,” the driver said. He popped the gear shift into first and stepped on the accelerator. The truck lurched forward. 
Mark didn’t respond. His head was thrown back against the seat, and he was already sound asleep. 
     

 
    Chapter Five  
Back Home 
 
 
“Before I drive you home, I’d like to take you over to the hospital, if you don’t mind.” 
    Guy LaBrea, Hilton’s police chief, was frowning as he watched Mark, who was sitting in his office, shivering as he sipped at a cup of coffee. It was his second cup within fifteen minutes. Guy didn’t like the way Mark’s eyes were so red-rimmed and runny. His skin looked sallow, almost sickly; and from what Mark had just finished telling him, Guy wasn’t so sure Mark was thinking all that straight, either. “Not packing a full seabag,” as he liked to say. 
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Mark said, his voice soft but firm as he fought to maintain a rational tone. “All I need is a hot shower, maybe a bowl of soup, and a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.” 
Guy almost said something but remained silent. 
“What I want you to do is get a search party organized to go up there and find Phil.” 
“Sure, sure I will. I’ll get on the phone and do just that . . . just as soon as I haul your ass into the emergency room so the doctor can check you out.” 
Mark shook his head angrily. 
“For Christ’s sake, Guy! For all we know, Phil’s still up there, either dead or unconscious at the base of The Zipper. If you don’t do something about it, then I sure as shit will!” 
“No need to get all wound up, okay?” Guy said. “Truth to tell, I don’t see how Phil could’ve lasted the night up there—not with how cold it’s been getting lately.” 
“Christ! What are you talking