Page 1 of Dead Mountain

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BRANDON PURDUE AND his frat buddy Mike Kottke sat on a rock underneath a big fir tree, near where their Jeep had skidded off a Forest Service road into a ditch and run over a sapling. They were passing a bottle of Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and a joint back and forth between them. There was no cell service this far up in the mountains, and it was getting dark. But they were already too drunk and stoned to hike out, and besides it was a good ten miles to the nearest paved road. There was no chance someone else would come along the road they’d taken on their drunken joyride—it was closed, and they weren’t supposed to be there. The only thing to do, Brandon told his buddy Mike, was to sit under a tree and get messed up.

“Don’t bogart that joint, my friend,” sang Kottke in a cracked voice, holding out a hand.

“Get wrecked, dude.” Purdue handed it over to Kottke, who took a toke while offering the bottle in return.

“Dude, you let it go out!” Kottke complained, holding the reefer out at arm’s length and staring at it disapprovingly.

Purdue handed him the lighter. Kottke fussed with it, swearing as the wind picked up. He finally got the joint fired up and sucked in a lungful of smoke.

“It’s getting cold, man,” said Purdue, tilting up the plastic bottle of rum.

“No shit, Einstein. We’re only at ten thousand feet above sea level.” Kottke looked at the roach. “This is finito.” He tossed it. “Got another?”

“Suck on this.” Purdue fumbled in his day pack and drew out a big bertha, lit it, and held it out to his friend. God, he was high. The big trees around them were all moving in the wind, or maybe they weren’t moving at all and it was just his brain that was moving. But it was getting colder by the minute. It was Hallowe’en, and it might go below freezing that night. Definitely would go below freezing. They couldn’t spend the night in the Jeep, tilted as it was in the ditch, its windshield broken, the interior strewn with glass. On top of that, there was a smell of gasoline that made Purdue guess the sapling had punctured the tank. If they tried to start up the Jeep for warmth, they might blow themselves up.

What were they going to do? They couldn’t stay out here in the open, drinking and smoking until they passed out and froze to death. Purdue pushed the thought out of his mind as he took another pull on the bottle of rum. That would warm him up, at least temporarily.

“Brandon, you feel that?” Kottke yelled.

Purdue’s head swam back into focus. “What?”

“Rain. I felt it on my face. A drop of rain.”

Purdue took another gulp from the bottle. As he did, he felt something cold touch his cheek.

Kottke reached into his day pack, pulled out a flashlight, and turned it on. He shone it up into the sky. “It’s snowing!”

“Oh, Jesus.” Purdue let out a groan. Snow. Of course. In the Manzano Mountains at ten thousand feet. In late October. They were screwed.

“Hey,” said Kottke. “We’ve got to find some shelter. Seriously.”

Purdue groaned again. Shelter? They didn’t have a tent, sleeping bags, nothing. Just light jackets. Was there a blanket in the Jeep? He couldn’t remember but didn’t think so.

“Light a fire?” Purdue finally said.

“That’s not going to stop the snow. We gotta find, like, shelter, man.”

Now Purdue could feel the cold sting of snow against his face. The wind was rising. Kottke stood up and circled the area with his flashlight. The ground sloped down into a forest of fir trees. Kottke shouldered his pack and took a few steps forward, shining the beam left and right.

“What are you doing?” Purdue said.

“What do you think? Get up and let’s go find a place to spend the night. We can hike back down in the morning.”

Purdue lurched to his feet, fighting a sudden rush of dizziness. He followed Kottke down the slope into the forest, stumbling and shuffling. The temperature was plunging and snowflakes swirled around them. Far below, Purdue could see the distant lights of Albuquerque’s South Valley, dissolving in the haze of snow.

“Dude, you see those big rocks down there? We might find an overhang.” The flashlight played into a ravine that didn’t look promising to Purdue at all. The slope got steeper. The smooth, pine-needled forest floor gave way to rough stones and small outcrops, interspersed with dense bushes and roots. It looked, in fact, like a good place to break some bones.

“I don’t know about this,” said Purdue.

“Come on!”

Purdue followed reluctantly, angling down into the ravine. The snow was accumulating now, and the ground was getting slippery. Purdue forced himself to focus on where he was putting each foot, but even so he felt unsteady and slipped constantly, swearing and grabbing for handholds. His butt was already soaked from skidding down and sitting in the snow.

The slope continued plunging toward the bottom of the ravine, which was filled with boulders dusted with fresh snow. Purdue felt like he was sobering up fast. “I’m not going down there,” he said. “All you’re going to do is get our asses flash-frozen.”

“Hey! Check that out!” Kottke yelled, pointing.

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