The airport looked deserted. It seemed to have less damage than Ashley had thought it would, the structure almost entirely made of glass was still standing in immaculate shape. She recalled that flights had been grounded before the infection became widespread. It would have been empty of all but a few workers, if anyone at all, once the worst of it hit.

But that didn’t make her feel any more secure. Once the bus was parked by the main entrance, the four men gathered their weapons and guided Ashley out of the bus. There was a loose plan of “wait on the tarmac”, spearheaded by Monte of course. But to get there they needed to pass through the terminal.

Though the building itself was in good shape the cars and baggage strewn around the outside spoke otherwise to the condition of the area. After all, if there was luggage, that meant people. And people meant…

“Keep moving,” Monte barked as they approached arrivals. He hung back behind the group, Brendan still leading her gently as Ashley walked barefoot on the ground.

“We're going to have the break the glass,” Gabriel called out and received a resounding hiss to stay quiet in return. But Greg agreed and with the butts of their rifles, they broke some glass on the unmoving sliding doors.

I can't walk on that, Ashley thought and would have shared had her mouth not been gagged. It took a nudge once or twice but Brendan finally caught on.

“She doesn't have shoes.”

Ashley watched him try to convince the others but another hiss echoed from their lips as they stepped through the glass pile into the eerily silent terminal. “I'm sorry,” Brendan said as he led her forward towards the glass. “Maybe...”

Taking off his jacket, Brendan lay it down across the worst of it and put an arm around Ashley's waist. The first few feet weren't bad, but the last two steps after the jacket sliced into her feet. Ashley limped to a set of stairs, hoping they’d help her remove the worst pieces.

“I said keep moving,” Monte said from behind.

“Her feet are bleeding,” Brendan threw back. “She can't walk like this and what if the blood attracts—“

“I don't give a fuck. Get up.” Monte motioned with his rifle and his voice grew grave. Brendan caved and his arm gripped Ashley's and pulled her to her bloody feet.

Limping with sharp slicing pain through the terminal, she followed as they climbed the stairs to the highest level and kept keen eyes out all the windows.

“It looks clear. I don’t see any bodies or signs of wendigos, but the terminal is huge, Monte,” Gabriel said after he checked the area ahead of him. “I’m not sure where you want to meet. There’s a lot of gates.”

Monte wrestled with the notion for a moment and Ashley wondered if he was coming to the conclusion the others were; this was a terrible idea.

“We should keep an eye out on both ends of the terminal,” Monte finally said. “They’ll be flying in, right? Why else would they pick an airport. So, we keep a lookout.”

Gabriel and Greg looked between each other and frowned. “You want to split up?” Greg asked, sounding more than a little hesitant.

Brendan sucked in a breath. “I don’t think—“

“Shut the fuck up, Brendan,” Monte barked. “If I want your goddamn opinion, I’ll fucking ask for it.” He then turned to the others. “Yeah, I want one of you to go to either end of the terminal. Nut the fuck up and go. Fire off a few rounds if you run into trouble.”

Reluctantly, Greg and Gabriel nodded and split directions.

“Real smart,” Ashley mumbled behind the duct tape.

Monte glared at her and brushed past Ashley. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you to shut you up.”

The stale smell of dust and mold wafted in the terminal as Brendan helped Ashley along leaving little bloodied footprints in their wake. Already their numbers had been cut in half and the terminal offered nothing in the way of defensive positions should they get overwhelmed. Leaks had formed inside the building over time and dripped to stale water-logged carpet stains in between all the stuff just littering the floor. Clothing, souvenirs, baggage, shoes, books, papers. All of it spelled people and Ashley felt the hairs on her neck tingle.

Nothing is ever empty anymore.

They travelled in silence. Monte grumbled behind Brendan and Ashley but kept his distance as they moved between shops and security checkpoints. The power had long stopped working and it was dusty from disuse.

“It's so quiet.” Brendan must have tried to whisper the words but they carried down the hall. From where they stood, they had a full view of the tarmac strewn with vehicles and abandoned planes.

While waiting on Greg and Gabriel, Brendan sat Ashley down and took a look at her feet. After each embedded shard was taken out, he flinched and apologized under his breath. As he did, she worked on the restraints, snapping through a bit more.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but this time there was no shard to accompany the apology. “This… this whole thing… I never should have—“

“What are you sayin?” Monte asked as he approached.

“Nothing,” Brendan muttered. He stood up quickly and nodded at Ashley. “I’m going to get her something for her feet.” He didn’t wait for Monte’s permission.

A few feet away, by one of the discarded suitcases, Brendan rummaged through it and pulled out a shirt. As he came back, brushing past Monte, he went to work at wrapping up Ashley’s feet. It wasn’t much, but the attention, the effort, hadn’t gone unnoticed and Ashley’s guilt swelled a little as she remembered hitting him.

“Waste of time,” Monte huffed before going back to wandering around the old convenience store, picking at expired packs of candy.

After half an hour of waiting around for what Ashley was sure to be a disaster, the dull hum sounded. It was distant but distinct and her gut dropped.

Monte and Brendan rushed over to the window while Ashley remained seated. The small dot in the distance flew in from the east and the closer it came the clearer it was. A helicopter. Black. It’d been so long since she’d seen anything flying in the air that wasn’t a bird that she found herself staring like the others. It continued past the gate where they watched and went further west, most likely searching for a good place to set down.

“Looks like they're here,” Monte said proudly as he slapped Brendan on the shoulder. They waited a minute until Gabriel came into view from the east end of the terminal. He ran fast, his gun slung over his shoulder and the four of them started for the west.

It's really happening, isn't it?

Monte hurried them enough that her feet ached, but by the time they reached the gate the wounds free of glass had closed. Greg stood by a gate desk, waving them over as the helicopter’s blades slowed.

From behind the glass, she watched three men get out of the helicopter. From head to toe, they were in gear; black vests, tall boots, uniforms if she were to guess. Their faces were no more than goggles over balaclavas. She couldn’t tell what colour their skin was with how well they were covered. They didn’t wear any insignia or badges that she could see. No country to hold an oath to.

Her pulse thundered in her ears and she dug in her heels.

There are more of them, she knew looking past the small helicopter. They weren’t long-range, it would need to fuel nearby, a larger craft. Probably a ship. Which meant there were more helicopters waiting to see if the trade was real, no sense in risking more of their numbers on a fake bait and switch.

They want to see if I’m real.

“I'll go down there with her. You three cover from there,” Monte ordered. “Get those chairs up by the window in case they try something.” Ashley had to admit she was surprised Monte has some kind of forethought, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not when these people were armed and prepared. The shitty rifles Monte, Greg, and Gabriel carried wouldn’t do much more than piss them off.

Not to mention the fallout. If they didn’t do exactly as they were told, this would come back on the college. All those people… Ashley cursed herself for getting caught. For taking that jump down to help strangers. For getting bitten. For not running each and every time she could have.

“Don’t go down there,” she muttered but the words came out garbled behind the tape. Even if she had been clear, part of her knew Monte wouldn’t listen.

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her forward. “Keep quiet and pretty and this will go smoothly,” he said as they started down the extended gate dock. The plastic extension tunnel sloped down and led to where a plane would have been waiting. Clearly, it was long gone and instead, the tunnel swayed a little in the open air. At the end of it, there was only a three-foot drop to the ground and Monte shoved Ashley out.

The helicopter blades came to a stop as Ashley reached the tarmac. Three rifle barrels, black and intimidating, levelled on her as Monte jumped down. He tactfully held her close to his chest as a shield, blocking any kind of body shot the soldiers might have.

A fourth man stepped free from the helicopter but he was not in military gear. “Identify yourself.” He wore a black vest under a dark green windbreaker but his face was covered almost entirely like the other three around them.

“Don't think you care much who we are,” Monte said casually like he was bargaining for a used car. He tugged her close, his breath hot against her cheek as the wind surrounded her with a chill. “But this here is your precious Ashley Cazalla, so I think right about now you should identify yourselves.”

At the mention of her name, the three men re-arranged the barrels of their weapons at her. The man in the windbreaker stepped forward, hands raised in the air. “We require inspection of the Subject and DNA confirmation.”

“And then we get to the evacuations?” Monte insisted.

“Of course,” the man said. He stepped up and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Though she couldn’t see his face, his clothing looked less military than it did a doctor’s scrubs. With a bulletproof vest haphazardly thrown over top. He was spindly, skinny, and behind the glass of his mask she could make out dark eyes.

His gloved hand pulled up her chin and he examined her face. He lifted a cell phone, one that worked, and took a picture before letting her go. Then, from the device, he pulled out a small thin piece of plastic that looked like a memory card. But one edge was metal, sharp even. Inserting the plastic into another port on the phone, he pressed the sharp edge to Ashley’s shoulder. With a slice, it cut the skin, a line of blood trickling. But the man gasped behind his mask as the cut sealed before his eyes.

Ashley tried to back away but Monte held her in place. “Cooperate,” he growled. Between them, she fumbled with the glass shard hidden in her hand, only a bit of the duct tape left connected, and tried to saw all the way through.

“It’s her…” the doctor said softly as the phone spit out a series of results. The device must have been some kind of modified glucose meter or tester but it flashed the words “MAD-Pathogen: Alpha Strain” in quick succession before he replaced the device in his pocket.

“Confirmed,” the doctor said to the team behind him. The radio on the helicopter started up, chatter she couldn’t distinguish. The armed men flexed a little, barely noticeable if she hadn’t been keenly watching. This is it, she told herself, tugging on the duct tape around her hands as another dot lifted up into the horizon. A second helicopter. Another team.

They’re not going to let anyone leave here alive.

“So that’s it then?” Monte barked, his grip on Ashley tight. “You sending more helicopters for the evacuation? Because we’re not all gonna fit on that one.”

“Once the Subject is detained we’ll sort out your people,” the doctor said as the helicopter blades started spinning up.

Monte chuckled. “Uhh, no. That’s not how this is works. She’s not going anywhere until—“

A single-shot cut through the air like a hammer. It whizzed past her head and then a warm mist speckled her cheek and shoulder. Blood, she came to recognize from the red warmth that drained against her back as Monte crumbled.

“Please come with me Ms. Cazalla,” the doctor said plainly as he stepped up to Ashley with his arm extended.

“Three targets,” a voice said in the doctor’s ear piece just loud enough for her to hear. “Two behind the chairs. One behind the desk. No witnesses, boys.” Who said the words she couldn’t know.

No one’s getting helped. Two of the three armed men turned their guns up at the gate glass while the third approached Ashley, barrel raised to her chest.

No one is getting out of this alive.

“There’s no need to make this any more difficult,” the doctor said as he touched her arm.

With a snap, the binds on her wrists succumbed to the last sawing motion. With the glass shard in her palm, she stepped up to the doctor and turned him between her and the armed man. It was easy, too easy, to slip the glass into his chin as her skin split on the jagged edges. But her wounds would heal, and as the doctor’s eyes glazed over, his body slacking in her arms, the soldiers behind shouted.

“Subject active!” He fired but Ashley shoved the doctor back and into the armed man.

Gunfire. Multiple shots. But nothing came her way. Pops and pings ricocheted off the helicopter and into the armed men. The glass shattering around the gate felt delayed though she knew it couldn’t have come any later. Greg and Gabriel, and maybe even Brendan, fired freely at the helicopter. It wasn’t much, but it was enough of a distraction to give her a chance to run.

And in those seconds she had a choice. Under the helicopter, towards the open tarmac, another entrance of the terminal or… back up the gate chute.

They’re going to find them all, she knew.

Ashley swore and climbed up the chute and ran back to the gate.