First Activation

Linda punched in the three numbers, put the call on speakerphone and waited. The tones echoed in the silence of the room. Nobody would answer, surely…

After four rings, somebody did pick up at the other end.

“Err… Hello?”

“Please come and help us. Terrible things have been happening.”

“What is your location, please?”

“We’re at the airport. We’re inside the—”

Jack jumped up, lifted the receiver, and slammed it back down, cutting off the call. “Linda, are you stupid?”

Bernie rushed over to where Jack was standing and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare speak to my wife like that.”

“Linda, who answers 911 by saying, ‘Err… hello?’ And well done, Bernie, you two have just fired out a flare as well.”

“Everyone just calm down. Let’s try and get some rest before sunrise. We’ll take turns being on watch, an hour each,” I said, as I walked over to where the three of them were standing.

“I can’t sleep, Harry,” Linda replied.

“Just sit down with Bernie; we need our strength for tomorrow. Jack and I will take the first few hours.”

Bernie guided Linda into the far corner of the room and they settled down in silence.

Despite my plan, none of us slept much before sunrise. We were all way out of our depth. I resolved to make more allowances for Bernie, and remember that the pressures we were dealing with would affect us all differently.

At first light, we decided on a plan to rush into the terminal, grab some food from the closest outlet, and then make our way back to the plane. There wasn’t any point in thinking of anything more elaborate than that. Jack and I took the two pistols and Bernie carried the flare gun. For some reason, neither Jack nor I could convince Bernie to take a pistol from one of the corpses outside.

We cautiously made our way out of the police building and crept in formation towards the front of the terminal. The place was designed to be welcoming and all of the usual infrastructure and advertising was still in place. A female corpse wedged the entrance door to the front of the terminal open for us with a rag stuffed into her mouth; her eyes were fixed in a wide look of terror. The gunshot wounds, stabbings, and beatings were awful to look at, but there was something horribly forced about this particular death. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why this one stood out so much, but it was one of the hardest to forget from the airport.

Inside the terminal, the scenes of horror were no less gruesome. Whatever happened must have started around a busy lunchtime period. Bodies lay thick in all directions, the sight was almost unbearable. Strange formations of corpses had been created where passengers had lined up to check-in for their flights, only to turn on one another. Some appeared to have ripped the extendable handles off their suitcases to use as weapons; I noticed a metal rod had been plunged into an eye socket of one unfortunate victim. The improvised weapon had proven a popular choice around the check-in desks. The check-in assistant lay dead where the suitcases were supposed to be weighed, the electronic display registered her as one hundred and twenty pounds.

A group of three people surrounded an ATM; one man looked like he’d been beaten severely before slicing his own wrists with a broken shaving mirror from his suitcase. A woman lay strangled by a shoulder strap of a handbag, next to her was a large man dressed in a white linen suit; he appeared to have no visible injuries. One moment, they had been obediently waiting their turn, the next, in deadly combat.

The route towards the security gate was blocked with corpses, but here, many of the dead had gunshot wounds. Armed officials must have acted first, and then others must have taken advantage of the weapons while the magazines still contained rounds.

“Jack, come and look at these three,” I pointed to a group of corpses on the floor.

“No thanks.”

“No, just look!”

“So what? They were all trying to kill each other.”

I called Bernie and Linda over, “Is that the guy from Oceans Eleven?”

”Sure is,” Bernie breathed.

We walked further into the madness of the terminal and shuffled slowly towards the shopping area. I glanced to my left over Linda’s shoulder and felt an electric shock of horror. The large man in the white linen suit rose silently like a ghost, and ran straight at us, his face contorted in fury, a machete raised above his head.

“Look out,” I shouted.

Bernie, Linda, and Jack, spun to face me, but the man was only yards away coming from behind them. Jack must have heard the approaching footsteps as he twisted around, Bernie and Linda froze. I tried to aim the Sig but couldn’t get a clear shot past the group.

I leapt to one side, fired twice, and hit him in the shoulder and neck, it was too late though, and had little effect as his momentum carried him forward.