The Rollback

It was one of those rare days on the mountain, bluebird skies and freezing temperatures that made the air look like it was filled with glitter. Here and there sun dogs were visible on the white slopes, these meteorological phenomena tended to appear in pairs, bright spots of light shooting straight up into the sky. It really was a perfect day, too bad it wouldn’t last long.

The lifts had just started running and, as usual, Mr. Cooper was the first in line. This was not a man afraid of a little attention, he stood out from the other skiers in his wool trousers, knee-high socks, big red fur jacket, and a bald head that never seemed to need a hat, even now it seemed to be steaming.

The lift attendant, a new one he didn’t recognize, waved him forward as the chair swung around the bull wheel. “Can you do me a favor?” Shouted the liftie over the roar of the lift engine. Mr. Cooper considered him carefully, always a suspicious man. “Have fun up there!” continued the liftie after a pause, as he broke out in a smile.

Mr. Cooper let out a polite chuckle but as soon as his chair was speeding up the mountain, he pulled out a small black notebook from his inner pocket and made a note of the young man’s name. Axel Buster, Memphis, TN, his nametag had read. Mr. Cooper had made his millions by trusting his instincts, and right now they were telling him something was off. He put the notebook away and patted his breast pocket thoughtfully, considering once more how little he trusted his thoughts to modern technology.

Axel stared after Mr. Cooper until he was out of view over the next ridge, then gave his fellow liftie a nod and went inside the control cabin. He had taken the job only two days before, having pulled into the resort and inquired about a job only a few hours after a liftie had mysteriously packed up his apartment and left without a word, they were understaffed as it is and this young man seemed like a godsend. They quickly ran him through training, had him sign all the waivers, and put him to work. He was already the sweetheart of management, suave and a people-person, a go-getter who worked extra hard to keep the snow plowed and leveled, and all the machines running perfectly. He had even arrived two hours early that morning and had run through all the stop checks before the other lifties even had their boots on. Not that they minded, it gave them more time to blaze up in a smoke shack in the woods before the morning rush really kicked off --some stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.

Back inside the control cabin, Axel’s phone pinged and the screen lit up with a notification, 20,000 dollars had been deposited in his account. He nodded to himself, flicked a switch, and walked outside just as the screams started. The lift had started moving backward, slowly at first, but it was gaining speed, and the panicked skiers on the lift were trying to jump off, while those in line tried to move out of the way, knocking over gates and other skiers in the process.

The other lifties had been trained for this, but the manual said to hit the stop button, hit the emergency stop button, and then run! Run because if it had gotten to that point, if all the failsafes had somehow failed, there was nothing to be done and they --lifties who were paid minimum wage to run lethal heavy machinery-- should try to save themselves while they could.

In the video Axel had watched two days prior, and which had inspired him to change his carefully laid plans --something he never did--, cement blocks had been loaded onto lift chairs, and the lift allowed to roll back. The cement blocks were dramatically flung off the chairs as they reached the bottom and he had wanted nothing more than to see that with his own eyes.

So he didn’t run, not as the axles on the towers creaked and broke --he chuckled at this--, not as entire chairs became detached, as bodies flew 20 feet into the air, as the cabin caught on fire from the friction, and not as the snow turned red.

He finally watched as a big man in a red fur coat was tossed into a tree, he calmly walked over and saw that he was still alive, bubbling breaths laboriously escaping his mouth; this was a possibility he had been aware of. Axel bent down close to Mr. Cooper’s lips, “help me,” he wheezed. Axel nodded solemnly, tried to display pity or concern on his face as he patted Mr.Cooper down, finally feeling a bulge in his jacket pocket. He pulled the slim notebook from the jacket as Mr. Cooper sputtered and weakly grabbed at his arm.

“Thank you,” said Axel, flipping through the notebook, looking at streams of numbers, passwords and codes, and finally finding his name as the last entry. He tucked the notebook into his own pocket and said with mock emotion, “this is a mighty nice tip for a job well done,” as he pressed his hands around Mr. Cooper’s neck.