I knew his face from the missing posters that were all over my town a few months back. It was unmistakable: the brown eyes, curly hair, and mole just under the left eye. There were billboards, even, and news segments on the boy, until someone else was murdered or kidnapped and he faded into the background of the next great story. But that was him, and he was with a much older man, sitting at an airport gate.

My eyes found them while I was walking to get coffee. They were a few gates over, the old man bobbing a newspaper on his knee and the boy staring straight ahead, eyes glassy. My heart began to pound as I passed them. What should I do? Alert airport security? This was a secure place, after all, right? It was better than finding them in the street. Here, there was no place to run.

I couldn’t find a security guard near, so I decided to tell one of the gate attendants. I needed to use the restroom first, though. The nerves were getting to me.

Standing at the urinal, I stared at the white tiles in front of me and took a deep breath. It would be okay - we were safe, and the boy would be safe, too. Hell, I might even be celebrated as a hero on the news. That would be interesting. The other people here, though … how had they not noticed? Maybe the news hadn’t been covered in their town. It was a few weeks ago, anyway.

“If you say anything at all, Monica will be dead by noon.”

The voice came from the urinal next to me and my thoughts stopped. I glanced over. It was the man who had been with the boy, staring straight ahead at the tiles, a stern look on his face. He knew my wife’s name … How he knew that, I would never know.

I nodded, zipped up my pants, washed my hands, made my way to my gate and sat down to drink my coffee.

As I am blending in the massive airport drinking the expensive water bottle, I hear the female voice of Laswell into my earpiece informing “Alright guys…remember what you’re here for and it’s for the target.” As she continues to inform me and the team, I look around in the airport blending in my outfit hearing the massive voices of people visiting and leaving the airport. I nod as I continue to look around the airport “ Copy that.” Then I take a seat on the airport chairs grabbing the newspaper and reading it which I am not actually. My head pops up as I look around as I am sitting in the airport chair just to see the target sprinting past me with security guards chasing him.

I immediately put down the newspaper as I get up to start running after the target in the airport. Laswell informs  through the headpiece “Remember guys…don’t kill him…we need him alive.” Francisco one of the members of the Task Force 25 angrily jokes through the headpiece “Damn it…that would have nice actually you know to kill him since he’s a fucking terrorist!” I continue to chase down the target sprinting past the crowd until then I suddenly see a familiar sight in the curly black hair in front of me and next I immediately chuckle to myself realizing that’s Francisco. I can hear his sneakers making squeaky noises on the ground as he continues to run and chase after the target which I continue to follow him. 

Laswell informs “Francisco and Jazmin…remember you both can shoot the target but we need him alive!” I witness him taking out his pistol and aiming it at the male target’s legs as I hear him on the ear piece “I’m taking the shot!” As I hear people screaming in terror and running in the airport, he fires the shots and one of them hits the male target on the left leg and he slumps onto the ground. Francisco and I eventually run up to the male target on the ground seeing the blood on his left leg pour out. Before the male target grabs his pistol to try to shoot at Francisco, Francisco immediately punches him and takes the pistol away from him. Laswell asks “Is he dead?”

Francisco kicks him in the gut as he informs her through the headpiece “No…target is down but alive now let’s take this piece of trash out of here”.

“Skye should you tell them?” Sebastian asked

“No make Ghost tell them.” Skye said smirking

“I’m not here haha.” Ghost says behind the couch

“Oh for the love of God someone tell them.” Dar says tapping his foot impatiently

“Wait I thought we made a sign for this.” A.J says

“Oh I’m telling them!” Loon says excitedly

“ArmySniper AKA Stormbound dreams has a link to support wounded warrior.”

“It’s true guys Iv always wanted to help them even though and now you can too:) Just click the link and it will take you to the website No hacks or scams I basically just looked up wounded warrior and put in the URL on prompts.” stated ArmySniper

The continuous sounds of my heels in the glossy floor of the airport became an eerie, distant whisper as my head started to throb. I rubbed my temples as I dragged my suitcase out of security. A wave of nausea followed shortly as if telling me to back away. Don't go, don't go. I fished into my bag and pulled out the tickets. I waited in line, smiling around at strangers, most the children dressed in witch costumes. Little boys dressed as clowns, chasing the girls with a fake machete.

I jumped back into reality as the beeping of machines started up. My head continued to pound with pain, even when I gave my tickets and information to the lady at the desk. She pursed her lips at the screen and adjusted her glasses as she typed away on the laptop. Her lips were glazed like morello cherries, her eyes dark and narrowed. Her blonde hair was sharply slicked back into a ponytail.

I smiled weakly at her as she gave me a curt nod to go through to my flight, passing my details back to me. I proceeded through to the plane, flight 09. I put my suitcase on the rack above my seats. Seat 90 was mine. I sat down at the window seat, pulling up the shutter to see everything.

I can't remember what happened next because I fell asleep, the blackhole too strong for me to fight.

I woke up around 2 hours later, estimated. A small noise came from my headphone that were wrapped around my neck. A pain shot through the back of my neck and I groaned at the cramp. I sat up and looked around, realising the plane hadn't moved yet and no one was on it. I frowned and stood up, looking around. I passed a few seats and saw that there was people, but they were asleep. They looked like statues, some of them had their eyes open. I walked through to the main compartments where most people were.

I noticed a few blood stains painting the walls, formed in tiger stripes so red it burnt my eyes. I felt the salty taste of my own tears burning against my cheeks as if the skin were burning. I wiped them away quickly, rushing to the front of the deck. I found a key on the floor that was rusting, but it could work. I banged the door that was being reluctant. I kicked it, finally pushing it open. I grabbed my bags that I had been dragging along with me and ran down the track. I finally got back into the main building even though the lights were off.

I could hear a crackling behind me, and my head shot round to see Flight 09 on fire. The flames were rising higher and higher into the oblivion of a sky, heat licking onto my face even though I was far away. A bang had me falling to my feet, the flight blowing up completely. I gaze up at it with an empty expression, tears falling down my face for no reason.

All I could think about was what had happened.

I see a person in the airport, about to get on flight 911. I go up to the person to ask where flight 99 line was. The person then turns around and growls. I realize it’s a zombie! I run as fast as I can. I then go into the bathrooms to hide. I don’t hear anybody in the bathroom, so I know I’m safe. I then hear footsteps coming from the distance. I try and hop on the next plane, even if it’s not my flight, I manage to hop on a plane, but I then realize…. I’m going to Brazil?!

I land around 11 hours later. I hop off the plane and… I see the zombie. It starts running towards me and…

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(Tony pov)

Ming sat down beside me. “When I was little my parents were the best people in the world at least to me they were. Especially my Dad he was so nice and he always helped me do right. But when he passed my Mother her heart turned. She became full of hatred. Next thing I knew I was this. I was the school bully picking on every new student. I’m sorry Ming. I really am.” I said.

“I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive you Tony. But I will try.” Ming walked away leaving me alone in the library. I stood up and thought about how mean I was and how I could tell everyone that I was sorry at the same time.

Just like that I had an Idea, but I would need Ming’s and Grace’s help.

This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! This CAN’T be fucking happening!

I’m supposed to be in a car on the way to my parents place for the holiday. But instead, I’m tucked in a janitor’s closet hiding from zombies. As soon as we landed, all hell broke loose! One of those things was on the plane with us. I watched him take a bite out of a flight attendant’s neck. Everyone got spooked, so we all started rushing towards the exit. I was one of the lucky few who didn’t get trampled on. The airport was even worse. Hoards upon hoards of zombies had their bodies pressed up against the glass doors to the airport, trying to get inside. The TSA officers had managed to close the doors, but enough people had already turned inside. Gunshots went off every few seconds. I couldn’t even hear myself think over all of the people’s frightened screams and the roaring of the zombies.

I pushed and shoved my way through crowds trying to get to safety. I almost got taken out by an elderly zombie woman, when I ducked down out of reach. I crawled through legs just trying to escape. That’s when I saw this closet door. I made way inside and closed the door. I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes listening to the screams become quieter and quieter. Soon, I’d be the only human left. I heard the glass finally cave in under all those bodies. That means there are even more of them in here now.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“As long as I stay quiet, they can’t hurt me right?”

Just then, my phone goes off.

“Crap Crap Crap!”

I quickly mute my phone, but it’s already too late. I can hear their moaning moving closer to my hiding spot. This was it! I’m going to die in a janitor’s closet.

I woke up on the floor in Terminal H. The airport was completely empty and my hands were soaked in blood.

I stood up and pressed my palm against my temple, wincing in pain. There was a high pitched noise ringing in my ears and my lungs were sore.

I could not remember anything. Not even my name. I dragged my feet to terminal K.

I had to figure out where the blood came from and I needed to find a way to get out of here. I broke into the airports CCTV room.

I don’t know how I knew where it was but I arrived there and turned the doorknob, surprised that it was unlocked. It looked like someone had already been here, from the smashed in keyhole in the door.

I walked to the monitors and saw blood on the keyboard. With red, shaking hands, I pulled up the security footage from the night before.

There was nothing.

Until 6:57pm.

I zoomed in on the moving figure in the bottom corner of the screen. It looked like a middle aged woman shouting for help. She didn’t look distressed, just lost.

Until 7:48pm.

A dark figure came from the left side of the screen and tackled the woman. The figure started attacking her by ripping the woman’s face off with their bare hands.

I felt bile rise in my throat. I paused the video and zoomed in to see if I could make out the face of the attacker.

If they were still here, I was in danger.

I felt the blood drain from my face from pure horror.

It was me. The attacker was me. I frantically zoomed out and went through the rest of the digital footage.

Every single day, I killed someone in the airport.

My memory started to return to me. After Derby International Airport was shutdown due to an ice storm, people were trapped for days.

For one month, I blacks out every evening and killed people, until there was no one left.

My breathing picked up and my vision was turning black.

I was a monster.

Why hasn’t anyone come to help? Why has no one come?

I looked back at the live footage and saw something moving. No, it was someone.

There was another survivor.

It was then that my body responded to deaths call, singing it’s song. And I couldn’t ignore it. I tried. But I couldn’t. I let myself fall.

And I don’t remember anything else after that.

Wilma hated airports. She couldn’t imagine anything more boring than sitting and waiting to board a plane where she would be rewarded with even more sitting and waiting.

She flexed her legs. She scooted around in the uncomfortable plastic seat beneath her. She turned on her phone. Then, she turned it off. Then, she turned it on again. She stretched her arms like she was preparing to run a 10k. She was about to stand up and to continue stretching despite the awkwardness of doing it in front of maybe 50 stodgy businessmen and businesswoman who were waiting for the same plane.

Then, Wilma heard a sound that delighted her ears. She heard the makings of an interesting conversation. She looked to her left, three seats down. An old man sat next to a teen boy who looked about Wilma’s age. Their heads ducked together conspicuously. Their voices sounded whispered secrets.

Wilma was not at all concerned that they might notice her watching them. She was bold like that. She did what she wanted. But she didn’t want them to shut up either, so she turned her head forward. She turned on her phone again and pretended to stare at it. She cocked an ear in the direction of their conversation.

“I think this trip will be good for you,” the old man said.

“You’ve already said that fifty times, old man,” said the boy. “I know that you just want to get rid of me. You can’t handle me. You think I’m abnormal.”

The old man sighed. “It’s true that I don’t understand you,” he said.

The boy laughed. “That’s an understatement,” he said. “And there’s nothing to understand.”

“I wish I could get through to you,” the old man said.

The boy laughed again. “There’s nothing to get through. I just am the way I am. Anyway, I need to get out of here.”

“I’d rather that you waited with me,” the old man said.

“I’m sure you would,” the boy laughed. “Relax, old man, I’m not going to miss the plane. You’ll get rid of me.”

“I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” the old man said.

“What trouble can I get into here?” the boy asked. “There’s a security guard every five feet. Relax, old man, I’ll be back soon.”

Wilma looked up. She saw the boy walking away. She wanted to know what he would do. What made this boy abnormal? She gathered her bags quickly and began walking after him.

I’m anything but typical, predictable. I like it that way. It’s safe to say most wouldn’t understand my brain, fuck half the time I don’t understand it. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with our world, we’re always trying to figure why someone did something. They probably did it because they wanted to, isn’t that what we all do?

I stopped trying to figure out why I do things a while ago but it even shocked me when I bought the ticket and shocked me even more when I boarded the plane.

I made the decision alone. Not because I don’t trust anyone, but because I couldn’t bear to say it out loud. My mind couldn’t form the words for my mouth to release. Even if I could, that would make it real. Permanent. If I don’t tell anyone it could stay a secret. Maybe I dreamt it after all.

No one would suspect or even believe the things I’ve done. It’ll definitely make for some juicy gossip if (if) they find out. I don’t know if they will, I don’t know if I’ll be alive when they do, I don’t know much of anything anymore.

I try to find myself in things, places and in dreams but I’ve been searching for eternity and I’m weary. Is it possible my soul is invisible even to myself?