Broad turns left around the corner when he can and as he does, in the distance the bright orange glow of the fire comes into view. Broad stops the cart to get a good look. The flickering glow is still a long way off, but the fire looks massive, almost like a sunset. A bright white flash overpowers the orange momentarily as another blast goes off. Both men avert their eyes, turning their heads away slightly and they don’t look back around until the shockwave stops shaking the cart’s cab.
“If you ask me, this is quite close enough,” Colin says seriously.
“I know what you mean, but we can’t see shit from here apart from the fire,” Broad replies as his foot presses the accelerator again.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Colin says as they start to move again, towards the fire.
Broad drives the cart down a taxiway parallel to the runway and around one hundred meters over from it. There are no people around or any movement apart from the cart, as the taxiway is empty. Luckily for them, the majority of the smoke is being blown across the airport and away from their direction. There is still a thick haze making its way across the rest of the airport and both men have intermittent coughs. The taste of the acrid smoke sticks at the back of their throats, unmovable.
“How much closer are you going to get?” Colin asks as they near half distance.
“I don’t know until we see something worth reporting, I suppose, or it gets too dangerous?”
“Something worth reporting. We could have told him what’s happening from inside. There is a fucking big fire engulfing Terminal 4, simple. What else is there to report?” Colin asks.
“Let’s just get a little closer, then we will phone him to report in.”
“Come on, mate, this is close enough. I can feel the heat coming off the fire. It’s getting bloody hot in here. What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Broad asks.
“There, on the runway, people are coming this way, see?”
“Oh yes; they must be survivors. I’ll get the Lieutenant on the phone.” Broad gets his phone out and dials.
“Lieutenant Winters.” Thankfully, he answers almost straightaway.
“Sir, Lance Corporal Broad reporting in as ordered.”
“Yes, what have you got to report?”
“Sir, we are still some way off the fire, probably halfway down the length of the runway. The fire is engulfing the terminal building and it looks like we’ve got survivors coming up the runway, Sir.”
“Broad, are you sure they are people, normal people?”
“What do you mean, normal people? They are not that close and a bit blurry, Sir.”
“What’s he mean by normal people?” Colin asks from the passenger seat.
“We may have a breach, Lance Corporal. I ask again, are they normal people?”
“A breach, Sir, you mean a zombie breach, in the airport, Sir?” Panic is in Broads voice.
“Yes, Broad that is exactly what I mean; are they zombies you can see or are they normal people?”
“Hold on.” The phone drops from Broad’s ear and his head moves forward towards the windscreen of the cart as he tries to focus on the figures moving on the runway. The figures are blurry silhouettes against the fire raging farther back behind them and really hard to focus on.
“Is he saying there are zombies in the airport?” Colin asks Broad, desperately.
“He doesn’t know; he is asking me to confirm if those survivors are people. Can you tell, do they look normal to you?”
“Fucking hell, I thought I was joking when I said we were lambs to the slaughter.”
“Concentrate, Colin, do they look like normal people?” Broad scolds his mate.
Finally, Colin does start to concentrate, his head joining Broad’s in a forward position as he peers out of the windscreen.
“I can hardly make them out. The fire behind is too bright, they are like shadows. I don’t like the look of them, though, to be honest, mate. We’ve done our bit—let’s go back,” Colin says, his voice full of trepidation.
Broad lifts the phone back to his ear. “We can’t tell, Sir. The fire is too bright behind them, but they look normal?” he says, looking at Colin and shrugging.
“We need confirmation, Lance Corporal, can you move closer?” Lieutenant Winters asks.
No not really, no, I fucking can’t, Broad thinks, starting to think Colin might be right about being ‘lambs to the slaughter’. “I’ll try, Sir.”
“Keep me on the line.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’ll try what?” Colin asks.
“We need to get closer. They need confirmation.”
“Oh, that’s it. Let’s drive towards the zombies so we can get a better look at them! You’ve got to be kidding; don’t do it mate,” Colin pleads.
“We got to, the sooner we can tell, the sooner we can get outta here. They are probably just survivors, but get your rifle ready though, just in case.”
“Oh, my days. Taking the piss,” Colin announces as the cart edges forward and he shifts around in his seat with his rifle.
Movement is just what the Rabids, spreading out from the burning terminal building, have been waiting for. The cart’s two headlights, bouncing on the concrete—dim as they are in the haze—is all they need. The new target, potential fresh prey, re-energises the hateful creatures, springing them into action.
Broad and Colin’s eyes are wide, straining as they stare out the front of the cart, trying to get a clearer look at the figures in the burning haze. The figures do get bigger in their vision and the two men soon realise the shocking truth.
“Turn around, get us out of here; those aren’t people, they’re
