by R. M. Smith
Scott was utterly heartbroken over the loss of his sister and dad. The back of his throat ached from all of the crying he had been doing. “Let’s go over to the terminal,” he said quietly. “I’m starving.”
“Are we going to bring some food back for Carmen?”
He shook his head no.
Minutes later, Carmen left the hangar. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to get very far. Her goal was the next hangar in line to the west, hangar D. If she had to, she could stay in a hangar a day until she got enough courage to head over to the airport.
That would be a walk of hell.
She leaned against the hangar, using the wall as balance as she headed to the rear much like Scott’s dad had done the day before.
If she would have looked the other way she would have seen Scott and Kim walking hand in hand toward the airport.
At the rear of the hangar, she stopped for a breather. Each hangar had its own small parking lot. A few cars were parked here and there. The rear of the hangar had a large letter C painted high on the back wall. Beyond the parking lot a tall perimeter fence stood in front of a deep drainage ditch. There were no gates.
There were two hangars to the left, D and E; and two hangars to the right; A and B. Carmen didn’t know if any of them were locked or not.
She went left.
The door to hangar D was locked. In the shadow of the building, she banged on the door hoping someone would open it from the inside.
Standing there waiting, she thought maybe knocking on the door had not been such a good idea. She didn’t know who might be in there. They could be rotten people. They could be killers or rapists. Seeing her in just her undies might make people do things, strange things. They could take advantage of her so easily.
No one’s around. These shadows along the buildings could be hiding killers with knives, killers with saliva running down their stubbly chins, running out of their rotten tooth filled mouths. They might be waiting for the right moment. They might have been sharpening their knives, their meat cleavers, waiting for the right moment to grab you while you’re in the shadow of the hangar. You don’t know what these people do in these places. Why do you suppose they call them hangars? Because they hang people up in them. They slice them from foot to head and let the guts pour out. Then they drink the blood. Sip it, darling.
Carmen hobbled quickly to the rear of the hangar, back into the sunlight.
She knew the next hangar to her left, E, would be in total sunlight. There wasn’t another hangar past E.
Rats don’t mind the sun. They can creep out of the dirt along the edges of the runway. They can nip your ankles. They can pull you down under the dirt and gnaw you to death!
Pawing her way along the last hangar’s sunlit wall, she tried the door.
It was locked.
“Shit!”
The closer they got to the airport, the more they felt like turning back around and going back to the hangar.
“This doesn’t look safe,” Scott said.
“No,” Kim said, her arm around his waist.
Ground crew vehicles had crashed into the lower sections of the terminal. A large passenger jet was tipped over onto a wing. There were no bodies anywhere. Vomit covered everything.
Kim asked, “Is it worth it to even cross this?”
“I don’t know.” He was scanning the ground, looking for places to walk across.
“I really don’t think Carmen would be able to get through here.”
“Would you forget about her?” Scott asked, his voice rising. “She’s dead, alright. Just like my fucking family. They’re dead and no use to us now. You understand?”
Kim let go of his waist. “Yes.”
“I’m trying to figure something out, alright. Leave me alone for a second.”
“Ok.”
He grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just…Jesus.” Tears stung at his eyes. “I won’t yell at you anymore, I promise. I’m just so upset.”
“It’s ok. I understand. You’re taking this a lot better than I would.”
He wiped his eyes. “Ok. I think I see a way in. You see the plane sitting sideways with its wing on the ground?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a way through. I think if we’re careful we might be able to scoot around the plane and go up the stairs on the jet way close to it. You see?”
“You lead,” she said grabbing his arm. “I don’t see it, but I trust you.”
Leaning her back against the closed, locked door of hangar E, Carmen sighed deeply. Tears ran down her cheeks. She said, “God, I don’t want to walk across the runways.”
Pushing herself away from the door with her butt, Carmen started the long walk of hell.
Scott and Kim were nowhere in sight.
They were on the other side of the tipped plane stepping cautiously over large splotches of vomit.
It stunk.
Kim asked, “Where are all the dead people?”
“I don’t know,” Scott said. “But I know one thing.”
She asked with her arms out for balance, “What’s that?”
“This next jump is gonna be a bitch.”
They were near the jet way. The steps were on the other side of a wide pool of vomit.
Scott looked around for any other way to get to the stairs but every other direction was either blocked by a vehicle or yards of worm covered puke.
“I’ll jump first,” Scott said. I’ll try to move the jet way closer once I get in.”
“What if the freaks are inside?”
He leaned down, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Well then, it was good to know you.”
He jumped.
The pain in her foot was capsizing. With each step, she could feel it, stretching, cracking, aching, reaching up through the bottom of her foot, grasping around her ankle, pinning it, scraping along up the side of her calf, towering, repurposing, pivoting, and then slamming down through her shin like an iron punch.
The pavement of the runway was ahead. She was now only walking through short weedy grass on soft soil.
A step.
A heavy jar tearing limp.
A step.
A pointed spear to the foot.
A step.
The further away you get from the hangars, the more out in the open you’ll be. And they’ll see you. You and your white flag panties covered in piss. You are so frail, darling. Such an easy target. They’ll wait until you’re way out in the open and then they’ll come speeding in their jeeps or their trucks and they’ll take you to their hideouts and rape you and rip you limb from limb.
“Good,” she said. “Then I won’t have to deal with this pain anymore.”
They’re going to twist your broken foot. You don’t know pain. They’ll rip your foot off and wrap your leg with the tendons from your ankle.
“You’re can’t scare me,” she said as she took another step. “You’re trying too hard.”
Why are you going to the airport? You know when you get there, you’re going to find Scott and Kim dead, right? They’re going to be the dead ones, darling. You’ll go to them. You’ll try to save them, but they’ll be dead. They’ll spit on you. They’ll drown you in their vomit pure blood.
“Leave me alone.”
They’ll stare at you with their dead yellow eyes. You’re going to be dripping in their vomit. And then you’ll feel it, in the rotten depths of your guts. A churning. A severe bleeding rupture tearing your intestines apart, and it will be squeezed out of you like a soaking bloody tatter. You will drip. Your cunt will pour out onto the empty ground.
“Stop.”
You know night is falling. Haven’t you noticed the sun lowering in the sky? You are going to be out here in the midst in the middle of the dark. The dead ones will come out then, darling. They’ll surround you. The grubs from underneath will be at your feet. The crawling will raise the edges of the concrete and come from under the ground as they have for eons. They will bring yo
u down into it.
Carmen made it to the grassy edge of the concrete. The runway was ahead.
The sun was setting. It was above the top of the terminal. She had an hour left of sunlight.
The wolves are still alive. None of them have been smitten. And the alligators from the glades and all of the other deep creatures from the foul muck. They’re hungry now.
She swallowed. She took one step onto the concrete. It felt like she set a round wooden stump on rock. Her foot felt numb, swollen and large.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “There’s no way.”
Hurry back to hangar C. By now, the dead one in the restroom has escaped. He’s waiting now, right inside the door. His mouth is already open. His bowels are filling. He will vault on you. He will bury you in vomit.
Painfully, Carmen sat down on the ground. Weeds itched at her bare legs.
The bugs will scratch at you…
Carmen screamed, “Shut up!”
Scott landed right on the edge of the bottom step leading up into the jet way. He pin wheeled his arms for balance.
Kim slapped both hands over her mouth.
Scott held there for a second. In his mind he wondered if he should just let go. Fall back into the puke. Or should he go on? Live.
“It’s what you would have wanted me to do son,” he heard his dad say. “Continue living. Be strong. Be strong for Kim.”
Scott reached forward while pin wheeling. A loose strand of rope was tied to a tarp on the top of the jet way.
They use that when it’s raining, Scott thought. Don’t want the passengers to get wet when they’re getting on the plane.
He pulled the rope, yanking himself out of his pin wheel. He fell onto the steps.
Kim yelled behind him, “I knew you could do it!”
Sighing, he got onto his feet.
Turning around, he saw Kim on the other edge of the pool of vomit, a pretty smile on her face.
Behind her, above her, dead people were leaning out of the plane’s exit door. Vomit started dripping from the bottom of the open door. Worms dropped to the ground. The dead were getting ready to spit down on her.
“Fuck!” He yelled. “Kim, jump!”
The sun slipped down behind the terminal. Shadows were getting longer as they slowly spread across the runway.
Carmen was lying on her back in the grass, her good leg bent at the knee. Staring straight up, the first stars began to peek out of the darkening sky as her foot throbbed a constant beat.
Tears were running from the corners of her eyes, down the sides of her cheeks, to her ears.
If only she could walk. If only there wasn’t so much throbbing pain.
We blamed the mailman, but we knew you did it. The mailman got 25 years for your little stunt, darling, but I lost a daughter.
She whispered to the sky, “What?”
I lost a daughter. You lived with the guilt.
It was going to be dark soon. She wouldn’t be able to see.
You deserve every lick of pain, darling. Every bit. Every single drop.
And then…a trickle.
“No,” she whispered. “Please. Not my period! God. No, please.”
Oh they’re going to laugh at you. They’re going to point, their hands covering the smiles on their faces. You’re going to be a laughing stock!
“Shut up.”
They’re going to laugh at you, just like John does when you go on your stupid rants about knowing what is going to happen in the future. He laughs at you behind your back when he goes out with his friends. He says you’re a good lay, but you talk some fucked up shit.
“Please stop,” Carmen cried.
You could have saved him, you know. He was right there beside you when you saw the cab. You should have run away with him. Instead, he laughed at you. He told you that you were being silly.
“But it’s not silly,” Carmen wept.
Oh it’s not your fault. But Daddy and Mommy laughed at you, too.
“They did not.”
And Carly.
Carmen blinked up at the stars. She stopped crying. She got up on an elbow. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
Why don’t you want to talk about your twin sister? Don’t you remember, you could have saved her? You saw the mailman coming. The same day it happened. The same morning. But Daddy laughed, said you were being silly. Said you were just having a hallucination.
Carmen thumped back down on the grass. Her underwear were spotting.
And after the mailman ran over Carly, what did Mommy say?
Carmen didn’t say anything.
It wasn’t your fault, darling. And then later, after the policemen left, what did Mommy say? You could have saved her, honey. She was your twin sister. You should have watched out for her.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Carmen cried, anger building in her chest.
No. Of course it wasn’t. How could it be? You were only five years old. It doesn’t matter that you were jealous of her though, now does it? It doesn’t matter that she was the favorite twin, does it? She always got all the nicer gifts. More hugs from Daddy. More kisses from Mommy.
Carmen closed her eyes.
You pushed her out in front of the mail truck, didn’t you?
“Shut up!”
Didn’t you?
“SHUT UP!”
She jumped.
It wasn’t far enough. Her shoes slipped on the vomit. She fell backward, instinctively putting her hands behind her to stop her fall.
Still holding onto the rope, Scott leaned forward. He was able to grab her by the front of her pants before she slipped into the sickness.
He yanked her up into his arms.
Quickly they ran up the jet way.
With her good leg shaking, Carmen was standing again. “I need to get going,” she said. “I don’t want to die out here on the runway.”
Blood was running down her leg.
The sun was now down below the horizon. Darkness was rolling in fast.
She was standing on the edge of the grass. The concrete sat in front of her like sharp points of broken glass. She didn’t want to step on it.
It’s gonna hurt so bad.
But I’ve got to.
I must.
She lifted her broken foot, gently setting it on the concrete. Putting all of her weight on it caused crushing splintering pain to fire up her leg. Grimacing, she stepped onto the tarmac.
“That’s one.”
Slowly, meticulously, Carmen walked across the long empty dark tarmac of the airport.
Trying to keep her mind off the raging pain, she ran her eyes along the outline of the airport against the starry sky. It was black against the stars.
She was now crossing stand-by runway number two. It was a secondary runway where planes would taxi to hangars surrounding the airport.
She was not on the main runway yet.
She still had to cross the stand-by runway, a secondary landing runway and then the main runway. After that, she would have to walk across a large paved area where planes would taxi to their gates. Then, hopefully, she would be able to get into the airport.
She turned around, looking back at the hangars. She was closer to them than the airport.
“I’m not getting anywhere,” she said, resigned. “This walk has killed me.”
Like you killed your sister.
She grimaced. She’d heard about enough of that for the day. “I’ve heard enough for my lifetime,” she muttered. “Come on Mom, how about laying off for a while.”
Twenty feet away, the ground made a wet squishing noise.
Out in the darkness, strands of blood were rising up out of the wet earth. Each hovered in mid-air for different lengths of time; then popped. Blood flew outward. Wherever the blood landed, more strands rose up into the dripping air.
The infestation was advancing across the grassy runway area coming toward her like sprinklers popping out of the ground. Behind them, further away, the dead
approached slowly, ripping apart their own bodies, throwing their arms, chunks of flesh, trying to hit her. Worms sprouted out of their skin and shot down to the ground, gripping the soil, pulling the body along faster.
Quickly turning her head toward the sound, Carmen’s mouth dropped open. “Oh shit!”
Limping badly, blood running down her leg, she awkwardly ran, stumbling across the grass back toward the middle hangar.
After what seemed to last an eternity, she finally made it to the door.
Remember what I said earlier about the man in the bathroom? He’s waiting for you.
“Would you please leave me alone?”
She threw the door open. Hobbling inside, she skirted around the tall desk right inside the door. Out of breath, she fell down onto a couch.
Her foot felt like a bloody stump.
Outside, strands of blood followed the trail of drips that had run down her leg. The blood rose and fell, chasing her, popping like synched water fountains through the grass.
The hangar was quiet.
The door to the restroom was still closed.
A strange clicking noise came to her ears. She sat up quickly on the couch.
The hell is that noise?
It was coming from the door she had just come through. Leaning over, she looked toward the door.
The door handle was moving.
Someone was trying to get in!
“But it was just me out there,” she whispered to herself. “No one else was with me. There weren’t any other people! Who can it be?”
The dead ones. They’re after you. They’re going to fall on you. They’re going to make you one of their own.
She yelled, “But they can’t be coming through the door! They’re dead! Dead people can’t turn door handles!”
It’s evolution, darling.
“This has to be a dream,” Carmen said calmly in her mind. “It can’t be real! It can’t be!”
She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. Hard. “Wake up, Carmen. Damnit.”
The door banged open. A dead airplane pilot wearing a vomit covered flight suit stepped through the door. Behind him, others followed, their hollowed out eyes staring at her. Vomit dribbled from all of their mouths. Worms dangled on their skin. The dead wobbled toward her.
