Red Eye | Season 1 | Episode 2

by Riley, Claire C

  I nodded, but still felt miserable. “I’ll do better next time,” I swore, my gaze searching his face for acceptance.

  He frowned and nodded. “Well, let’s just hope there won’t be a next time. Hopefully the police or the army or whatever will come in and shut this shit down, right?”

  We piled the confiscated weapons and some ammo we found into my backpack, and Leon found another for himself. I had a small armory with me by the time I shrugged it back on, and it felt like it too. It was heavy, almost too heavy—not that I was going to complain about it and make myself look any more pathetic.

  We stood by the door ready to go, all of us piled down with various weapons. Jamie had a couple of handguns and a knife strapped around his waist; Akhira had two large hunting knives, one in either hand; and Karla was armed with everything and anything that she could carry, including a sawn-off shotgun. My eyes went wide at the sight of it.

  “Bloody hell!” I gasped, staring wide-eyed at it.

  “People be crazy,” Karla replied. “Only got two shots in it, but I figured it’s two we could use.”

  “My backpack is full—handguns and a lot of knives. It’s scary to think that people are coming into an airport carrying this sort of stuff,” I replied.

  Karla shrugged nonchalantly. “Like I said, people be crazy.”

  We headed back the way we had come, encountering no more zombies, though my stomach ached with worry at every door, until we were finally back in the big security office of TVs and computers. Karla closed it behind us and I shrugged out of my heavy backpack and leaned over the monitors to see if I could see Sam or the others on them. After a couple of seconds I found her by a small shop stand with Jamie’s daughter Alexa. They both had drinks and it looked like Sam had gotten changed out of her destroyed dress, which was good since her arse had practically been hanging out of it.

  “Where the hell are Trent and that Nolan guy?” Jamie muttered, standing up straight. He glared at me like I should know, like I hadn’t been with him for the last however long. “Why would they leave them alone?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’m sure they’re there somewhere though.”

  A faint cry of help came from somewhere and we all stared in horror as Nolan and Trent came into view of Sam and Alexa, a trail of zombies hot on their heels.

  “Sam,” I whispered, my eyes going wide in horror as she dropped whatever she was drinking, grabbed Alexa’s hand, and started to run.

  Chapter five.

  Sam

  I grabbed Alexa’s arm and yanked her hard in my desperation to get away from the tide of zombies trailing in Nolan and Trent’s wake.

  I dropped the bag of clothing. I dropped everything. I didn’t care. At least those things were slow. If they were fast…god, we’d already be dead. Or we’d be one of them. The fact that they were slow didn’t make them any less scary though, because they seemed relentless—moving with turtle dedication, jaws snapping, teeth gnashing. A collective onslaught of horror and death that just wouldn’t stop until we made them. A freak show film at half speed.

  “You’re hurting me,” Alexa whimpered weakly, but she didn’t try to pull back from me and stop our forward movement. We both knew we had to get out of the area as fast as possible. I was grateful for the new shoes, socks or not; the rubberized soles were ideal for gripping slick boat surfaces as well as shiny, buffed industrial floors.

  “They’re going to hurt you a hell of a lot more if they catch up to us!” I snapped out, the shoulder bag slamming into my hip as I moved my legs as fast as possible.

  We passed the Hudson store and the duty-free shop. My eyes roved the terminal, desperate for a safe place to hide. I glanced behind. Nolan and Trent were catching up to us. A bookstore flashed by on our left, a Coach store on our right. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I’d thought how easy it would be to hole up in any of the stores with the roll-down gates…yet now I wasn’t seeing a single place that seemed to have one. Or if they did…Christ, they were well hidden.

  “Sam, I’m scared!” Alexa breathed behind me as we ran aimlessly.

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think except for one thing: keep running, keep running!

  We were past the clock tower then, moving into the opposite wing of the terminal from the Orange Julius stand. I pulled Alexa with me onto a moving walkway, the sliding beltway beneath us quickening our pace. I could hear Nolan yelling something but I couldn’t make it out. I just had to keep running. I would not die. And I wouldn’t let Alexa die either.

  Nolan yelled again and I tried to listen, tried to understand. I passed a store on the right, barreling past a second next to it, when Nolan’s voice finally broke through my fear.

  “Get to the restaurant, dammit. Stop running!” Nolan yelled behind us.

  I could barely make out his words over the snaps and snarls of the zombies.

  “Son of a bitch, stop running, Sam!”

  I heard him.

  And I immediately redirected my course and headed straight into the next structure—a restaurant called James’…something. I was too panicked to read the entire glowing blue sign. I didn’t even question Nolan’s command. There wasn’t time to think about it, only act. I was moving too fast and my shoulder caught the metal wall at the side of the entrance, making me call out in pain. That was going to leave a bruise. The restaurant was giving out mad SoCal vibes, and I hoped to hell Nolan had a way to keep us safe in there. I didn’t see a gate. I saw no fucking way to secure the space.

  I abruptly released Alexa, trying to catch my breath. She fell forward and had to grab a nearby barstool keep her body from hitting the ground. “Thanks a lot,” she huffed, breathing hard and straightening back up.

  I couldn’t respond; I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to keep from having a heart attack. I could do double cabrioles all day long, with the briefest of water breaks, but let my life depend on a cross-country sprint? Just cut me up and feed me to the rabid dogs.

  Nolan and Trent raced into the Americana bistro after us and they both immediately turned around, frantically looking for some way to secure the doorway. Spinning around, Trent grabbed a stool and dragged it under the large entrance. I didn’t see what he was going for. There was no black freaking gate. He was fast though, seeing something I didn’t. He jumped onto the seat and reached his tall frame up to grab at the white ceiling. To my surprise, a white gate instead of the usual black responded to his touch, inching down to reveal itself. He pulled it, jumping off of the seat so the action would be fast and efficient. He landed on his knees with a bang, grunting at the impact.

  “There! There!” Trent yelled, and pointed at two large hook-shaped objects connected to the gate, which lined up with holes and small bars in the floor. I hadn’t even noticed those. God, I was so stupid. “We can lock it from the inside. They won’t be able to pull it back up.”

  “Let’s hope they’re dumb as shit and wouldn’t even think to try,” Nolan said as he shoved down one of the latches and Trent took the other.

  No sooner had they secured the entry than the first of the monsters slammed into the painted metal. The men rocked back on their heels so fast that they both toppled backwards into a near-crab-walk position.

  “Fuck,” Nolan breathed out. “Too fucking close.”

  “You said it, brother,” Trent stammered, now sitting on his ass and rubbing his hands together nervously.

  “Will it hold?” Alexa asked nervously.

  “Should,” Trent replied. “But I don’t like this, not a bit. I mean, aren’t we trapped in here now? I don’t like being trapped. I don’t want to be stuck in one place.” He looked down at his hands, a curious expression crossing his face, and he dropped them into his lap. “I can’t stay in here!”

  “Calm the fuck down, Trent!” Nolan yelled, and his voice seemed to get through to Trent.

  “Do you think the windows are reinforced?” I pointed at the two windows on either side of the now-secured gate. The rest
aurant faced the giant outside terminal windows, and Gate 132 was directly across. The windows to the world beyond acted like movie screens now—disturbing entertainment with burning planes, zombie silhouettes moving jerky and slow across the tarmac, and the still-flashing lights of emergency vehicles giving watchers clearer, intermittent glimpses of things sprawling in the dark.

  The city in the distance through that tinted glass made my heart stop. The smoke rising from between the tall buildings nearly blocked out the beautiful ambient light of industrialization— the glow of skyscrapers, the shine of streetlamps, brilliant neon signage inviting patrons inside. If the situation was this bad here, with a couple of thousand travelers, I could only imagine how bad it was out there—with nearly four million people in the greater LA area. The thought was equally terrifying as it was horrifying.

  I shuddered. And it wasn’t just the fate of the great city that made me choked with fear, or just the creatures banging on the metal behind me, clawing for entrance into our temporary safe haven. I kept thinking about Rose and the others walking back into this situation completely unaware. It was like an ambush, and they would be toast in no time. “We have to get the hell out of here, and quickly.”

  “You okay?” Trent asked, walking over and putting a hand gently on my shoulder. I automatically wanted to shy away from his touch, but I stayed still. He was just a goof, one of those good-natured guys who was overly friendly to everyone and didn’t really think through things before hopping to action.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I stepped away so his hand dropped, but I smiled to soften the separation. I’d been avoiding looking directly at the gate, but I did then. There were eight that I could see. Eight of them and four of us. Three. Three of us, because Alexa sure as hell didn’t count. God, her dad sent her with us to keep her safe, and look at the shitstorm we were in. “What the hell happened to you guys? I mean, why didn’t you just stay put until we were out of the bathroom? We came out and had no idea where the hell you were, and then you drop a pack of demons on our heads.” I shoved my hands into the soft terry cloth pockets of the zip-up and frowned.

  “We only planned to be gone a minute. Nolan spotted a kiosk on our way here, said it looked fully supplied with water and snacks—you know, sort of a magazine stand. We got in there and”—Trent ran a hand through his tousled hair—“I knocked over a display of sunglasses.” His face turned a deep red as Nolan glared angrily at him. Now he ran both hands through his hair. “The display knocked into a cabinet with travel bottles of perfumes and shit. Whole damn display, glass shelves and everything, came crashing down around me. It would have been funny if it weren’t for the fact that…” He stopped talking, going to the nearest chair and plopping his body down heavily. Seconds later, he lifted his shoes up onto an adjacent chair. The soles were so thin you could almost see his socks. He’d really needed those boots—or at least some boots that fit him properly.

  Nolan picked up the story. “The sound was so loud, ripped through the goddamn terminal like a fucking trombone. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it in the bathroom.” He shot a pissed-off look at Trent, who was looking defeated and slumped at the table. “We filled a few shopping bags with shit, but dropped it all along the way. Turned out to be a good thing—slowed them down as they tripped and slid on the bottles and wrappers.”

  Trent chuckled then and the sound was odd, manic. “Yeah, real funny, that. Arms flailing, landing face-first, bumping into each other. It was like a scene from a comedy.” His stare went blank, his features paling. “Not all of them fell though. Arms flailing…little arms…tried to save her.” He shook his head sadly.

  “Obviously not all of them fell,” Alexa snarked. She’d been standing still for a while, sort of opened-mouthed and staring at the horde. She turned after her comment though, rubbing her arms in a nervous gesture, and headed toward the striped wood bar that took up most of the space.

  I was focused on Trent, who seemed trapped in his dark memories again. “Trent, it’s okay. They said you did everything to save that girl. And this situation is different. We’re safe for the moment.” I didn’t sound nearly as confident as I wanted to, but I tried to comfort him at least.

  I glanced from Trent to Alexa, who was searching around the bar area and had just moved a room-temperature lager to the side so she could continue looking for something. She was standing right near the beer on tap.

  “Um, I don’t think so,” I said, and went to join her. “Pretty sure your dad would be pissed if we let you drink.”

  “I don’t want a beer. Dad let me sip his one time and it was gross,” she replied, scooting around the counter and finding a clean glass. “I was looking for a soda or bottled water or something.” She shoved a few bottles aside—tequila, chardonnay, vodka, peach schnapps. “Or maybe back in the kitchen area.”

  “Kitchen would have knives.” Nolan looked back at the swinging door past the bar area. I took the time to read the logo then—James’ Beach. “We’re going to need weapons to fight our way out of here.”

  My stomach sank at his words, because he was right. We couldn’t just stay there. We had to kill those things, or everyone else was in danger. My eyes scanned the full offering of the smallish restaurant. There were plates on the bar top, food in various stages of being eaten. One sandwich looked barely touched. I wasn’t hungry enough for that…though it looked to be grilled salmon and avocado, which sounded like heaven.

  Nolan walked over and shoved his own body into the tight space behind the bar, Alexa grunting “hey” as he roughly moved past her before pushing on the swinging door and heading into the kitchen.

  A few moments of silence went by—well, barring the zombies at the entrance anyway.

  “Bingo!” we heard Nolan finally call from the back, his voice muffled by the still-swinging door. “Plenty of drinks back here!” he added.

  Alexa was still searching for a soda, despite Nolan’s words, so I headed around to help her look. “There’s always at least Coke in a bar. And cranberry juice.” I spied a small black fridge located under the cleaning cloths, and when I opened it, we found it fully stocked with a variety of aluminum cans.

  “Great.” Alexa grabbed a red can and moved her way back around to a barstool. “This won’t be nearly as good as that orange drink though.”

  “Nothing’s as good as that—sorry to ruin all future drinks for you.” We smiled at one another, and then jumped as it seemed like the whole group of zombies slammed into the metal partition at the same time.

  Trent was standing then, pacing next to the table he’d been sitting at. “Jesus, we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  “Not while those things are right there and ready to eat us,” I forced out, my throat feeling desert-dry and crackly.

  “Then let’s get to it.” It was Nolan that time, emerging from the kitchen. He was holding a bunch of misshapen items within the folds of a thick white apron. He went to a table near Trent and set down the bundle, unfolding the ties of the apron and revealing a sundry of cooking blades as well as a set of meat forks, the kind with three widely separated sharp tines, and what looked to be a mandolin slicing blade. It had a protector on it though, so it didn’t seem like much good to me. “We can take them out without even opening the door,” he said, holding up a long, thin knife.

  We all turned to look at the door and realized he was right. As long as those things were close enough to the gaps in the security gate, we could skewer them and put them down without even stepping outside. I was definitely down for that plan.

  Walking over, I eyed the small collection Nolan had brought out. “Let Alexa take the roast forks; she won’t have to get so close.”

  “We can handle this. She doesn’t need to go anywhere near the gate. We need to protect the kids, right? Keep them all safe.” Trent flicked a worried glance back at Alexa, who’d stopped sipping her Coke and was watching us all with a worried expression.

  “Everyone can help,” Nolan bit out.
>
  I was about to protest when Alexa cut in. “I’m fine. I can do it.” She hopped off the stool and beelined for the table before picking up the long utensils. She weighted them in her hand and looked up at me grimly.

  As the roars and monstrous growls intensified, reaching an almost bestial chorus that boiled my blood, I picked up the slim filet knife. Its blade was the longest, but also the narrowest. I’d have no trouble fitting it through the breaks in the fencing, no problem sliding it into what was once a human body.

  I didn’t pay attention to which knives Trent and Nolan picked up. I didn’t care. I had to focus on the task at hand, on making myself do this unthinkable thing. For the moment, the creatures beyond the gate could not get to me, could not hurt me. Yet I was about to try to kill them, each-and-every-one of them, so that I could stay alive. That was the woman—no, the thing I was becoming: something that would be as brutal as necessary, whenever it was called for, to keep breathing. To stay alive.

  “Ready?” Nolan spoke as he walked to the gateway.

  None of us nodded, but I could hear the sound of our collective, anxious swallow.

  Once we were all at the barrier, inches from the fingers reaching through the gaps, from the spit and blood flecking from their mouths, we all stared, each of us too scared to make the first move. Their eyes stared through at us, bloodshot and empty. Devoid of anything human…right?

  This wasn’t murder, was it? I glanced over at Nolan and found him scowling at the heaving mass beyond the security gate, his chest rising and falling like he was psyching himself up to do it. He took one look at me and nodded almost imperceptivity before stepping forward and slamming his blade through the slats and into one of the zombies’ heads. Blood sprayed back on him but he barely noticed it.

  The rest of us stepped forward, spurred on by Nolan’s bravery, and began slamming our weapons through the holes, finding purchase in skin and flesh and deeper things. Some of the zombies fell, but others didn’t even notice their newfound wounds. Brain matter and gore splattered against the fencing. It got so bad that I had to cover my face, worried some of the fluids would spray into my mouth or nose.