This is the first short story I've completed. I originally posted it via facebook in a rough draft but this version is the final polish. There aint a lot to it and it really is a short story but how much can you say about a man observing Armageddon in a burning airport? I personally think I have written better stories than this but as an introduction it serves its purpose:
The plane wreckage was still burning. Hardly surprising. As Arnold looked on he assumed it must have crashed during take off. It would certainly explain the size of the explosion, being full of fuel and all. God damn it’d been loud! Killed a hell of a lot of people too. Why, there’d have been everyone onboard as well as the many innocent souls that were panicking in the terminal. It’d been chaos. Certainly was a scary sight, seeing a jet come in like that. The pilot was probably dead or turning or being eaten. Arnold knew some of those things had probably made it onboard and why not? Before the shit really hit the fan he’d heard news stories of cargo ships and even submarines being infested with them. It seemed nowhere was safe from the onslaught.
An airport seemed like a logical place to escape, desperate people willing to fly anywhere and paying top dollar to do so whilst money was still worth something. Arnold began to laugh at his own stupidity. He’d been suckered in by the growing crowds that were making their last move away from the disaster. But hadn’t the news said that this shit was happening everywhere? In fact the first cases of the infection had been reported in Canada. Yet here he was, slowly dying from the wound in his arm, the infection working its magic. He’d been stupid alright, stupid to believe that there was any safe haven left in the world.
He leaned his head against the pillar keeping him upright and sighed. The smell of jet fuel was still strong. Arnold expected the blaze to burn on well into the following day. He didn’t expect the emergency services to be running, not anymore. He heard people screaming all around him. Many would be buried, trapped under wreckage. More would be eaten.
“Help me. Please...”
The voice was weak and futile. Arnold looked to his right again to see the man wasn’t dead yet. Pity. His companion was starting to irritate him.
He didn’t know this man. He’d had only met him two seconds before the plane had crashed. The undead had begun taking over the terminal. How it’d happened so fast Arnie didn’t know but their numbers were overwhelming. People were running, screaming, he’d seen a few cowardly individuals throw others towards the hoard so as not to be taken themselves. Self preservation can be an ugly thing sometimes.
Somehow, Arnold had managed to get ahead of the onslaught and had taken cover behind one of the many large decorative pillars scattered around the terminal. He had been bitten, a heavy set man with his intestines dragging along the floor had seen to that. He was accompanied by the man that was now dying next to him, a business man, he thought, on account of his suit. He was obviously frightened, they both were. They shared and knowing look of disbelief before Arnold noticed the plane heading straight for them. They’d both jumped out the way but business man didn’t move fast enough. He’d been buried under the rubble. Arnold had been blown forward with the explosion. Both were dead men.
He looked at business man with eyes of contempt. The last few moments of my life, spent with this sack of shit! Could the man just accept the fact that he was going to die? Who would help him? What hope did he think he had? His face was white and gaunt, the hollows of his cheek a pale grey. He even looked dead.
“Please...”
“Go to hell, you sorry sack of shit! Look around you! Just LOOK! You think you’re the only one with problems?” Arnold leaned his head back hard against the pillar in frustration, wondering where all his pent up hostility had come from, “FUCK!”
He was amazed at his own anger but, oddly, didn’t feel bad about it. Not for one instant. He found himself smiling a little. Well good. The guy needed a reality check, dying or not.
He felt a sharp pain run through his chest and coughed violently. Blood, deep and crimson. The nauseating taste of copper hit his tongue and Arnold vomited. More blood, everywhere, dripping down his front from his broken body. His insides were messed up, probably punctured a lung or something when the explosion rocked him forward, most likely tore him up inside but he didn’t care much. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway.
The sound of shuffling feet came to his right. From behind one of the other pillars came one of the undead, the first one he’d seen, in fact, since the plane had hit. It was a girl, probably no older than ten or twelve. Her hair was in burnt pony tails and, from the looks of it, was once blond but it was impossible to say.
She was wearing a once pink dress that had tear down the front revealing her mangled torso. Where her stomach once was, was now a hole with flaked tears of ragged skin encircling the wound. Most of her right side was burnt, due to the crash no doubt, and as her fingers flexed, Arnold could clearly see the tendons in her hand.
She was feeding. It was disgusting to watch, yet, somehow Arnold was transfixed. He wondered how she could feed with most of her internal mechanics missing. He soon found out. She turned to face him, oblivious of his presence. The wound in her belly was on full show and with every mouthful she took, a hunk of chewed flesh would fall from her gullet and onto the floor. Splat. Another mouthful. Splat. The routine would continue until she’d finished, then she’d no doubt find some more food and start the whole thing again. She walked on quietly, enjoying the meat.
Arnold looked at the wound in his upper arm with quiet contemplation. He’d be like that soon, like that sweet little girl with no stomach, just another mindless drone whose only purpose is to feed. He wanted to cry, oh how he wanted to wail but he found he had no power left in him, the last of it used on that sorry sack of shit to his right.
Dammit, how had everything gone so bad? And so quickly? It seemed like only yesterday (it was three weeks ago in fact) that there were stories of a possible pandemic in southern Canada. America had been quick to tighten security at its borders but that hadn’t stopped it. There were soon reports of it in California, London, Siberia, Mexico, this shit was popping up everywhere with no pattern and no knowledge of where it came from. Arnold allowed himself another smile. Just like in the movies. But he knew this one wouldn’t have a happy ending. Not just for him but for mankind as a whole. It had spread so fast, Christ it had, and before the authorities knew what was happening the shit had hit the fan on an atomic scale. People were watching the world end on live TV, watching people being slaughtered in their thousands. A Worldwide cluster fuck if ever there was one.
It was too late to think about what went wrong. It just had. Shit happens. And now, as Arnold lay dying he realized he wasn’t afraid of death anymore. He’d seen enough over the past weeks to last a lifetime. It was all ingrained on him, news of the outbreak, the failure of the military, the little girl with her evening meal. It was enough to torment a man’s soul long after he has left this world.
Arnold looked back at the wound on his arm and noticed the infection had spread. It had stopped bleeding a short while ago and now it was pulsating, almost breathing. He could see it spreading up his veins, green and rotten. He couldn’t feel his arm, not anymore and soon his whole body would follow. He welcomed it, willing it to take him from this god forsaken place.
He began to feel hungry. That was to be expected, it’s what these monsters do best. As he closed his eyes for the last time, Arnold began to think he’d put business man out of his misery first. He licked his lips. Besides, he’d always been curious as to what it was like on the other side.
