“Fucking piece of shit!” Dixon shouts as he releases the magazine, drops it, pulls the rifles action back to clear and obstruction and inserts another mag. By the time he aims again, his target is almost upon them. The rabid jumps at the pick-up just as Dixon pulls the trigger. This time, the rifle does burst into life and Dixon lets off a long volley at the beast.
The Rabid is hit multiple times but there is no headshot. The bullets do take some of the momentum out of the Rabid’s jump and it falls short and level with the front left of the pick-up. The Rabid’s head impacts with the headlight of the pick-up and it is thrown into a flat spin. The crushing blow spins the body down the side of the cab before the momentum flies it over the tail of the pick-up and over Kim’s head. Hitting the ground behind the pick-up, the body slides to a stop.
“What the fuck!” Dixon hears Kim shout from behind him.
Dixon has his own problems, however. He is playing catch-up following his rifle jamming. Upping his rate of fire, he has to rely almost entirely on instinct as he guns down the Rabids that threaten them.
Passing the zenith of the heat from the inferno, Dixon barely notices his face start to cool as the pick-up battles on. His eyes start to widen as the light from the fire starts to dim as they approach the runway that will take them all the way to Terminal 5. At least the blazing light is behind them now and doesn’t blind his field of vision. His eyes quickly adjust to their new surroundings and they pick out targets almost as easily. They are lit up as they run towards the pick-up, their horrific tortured features aggravated by the flickering fires’ light.
Finally, the pick-up crosses the threshold and drives onto the wide runway. Downey arcs around in a large diameter as he joins the runway to place the pick-up in the middle of it. From there, he gradually picks up speed, the bumpy concrete of the taxiway having been replaced by the smooth tarmac of the runway.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Dixon shouts to Kim as they speed along the ominously quiet runway. Maybe the Rabids haven’t wandered onto the runway yet? Perhaps they are attracted by the light and noise of the fire and stayed in that vicinity? Maybe and perhaps don’t work for Dixon, though, and his eyes re-focus.
The further the pick-up travels up the runway, the dimmer the surroundings get as the fires behind have less and less effect. Downey slows down, taking more care as his view diminishes; the last thing he wants to do is turn on the pick-up’s headlights.
Lights ahead start to come into sharper view from the silhouettes of the massive Terminal 5 buildings looming in the near distance. Nothing looks out of the ordinary from here, but no one is taking anything for granted and their nerves start to tingle as they get closer to the buildings.
Downey keeps on while the going is good and decides to stay on the runway for as long as possible. He ignores the exits to the taxiways that lead to the smaller building of the Terminal 5 complex. Their objective is the farthest and by far, biggest building. The main advantage with his tactics is that the darkness closes in around them, camouflaging the pick-up and keeping it out of sight.
Although Dixon understands what Downey is doing, he taps the top of the cab when he sees that it is time to turn. The pick-up veers right. There is a small bump as it leaves the runway and gets onto the taxiway leading to the main terminal building just ahead.
“I don’t like it. It’s too quiet,” Kim says from behind Dixon.
“I know, mate, something isn’t right.”
Downey must be feeling it too, as he has slowed considerably and is almost coasting. Is it their new surroundings bringing on their feelings of uneasiness? They certainly aren’t helping; the dimly lit airplanes that sprout up from the ground, parked adjacent to the buildings they are approaching, are creepy. The manmade light above casts shadows all around, the shadow of a wing here and a fuselage there making random patterns on the ground. The shadows occasionally weaken as a flash of light from an explosion bathes them for an instant, even from this distance. Each flash is followed by the sound of a boom or a crack that pierces the deathly silence.
Both Dixon and Kim are on tenterhooks as the pick-up moves into the Terminal 5 complex, closer to the grounded planes. Blind spots are everywhere; anything could be lurking in the shadows or behind a landing gear. Their rifle’s muzzles shift continually from one blind spot to another but it’s just a gesture, as there are simply too many to cover.
A loud screech sounds, sending electric chills down their spines. Their muzzles dart about quicker, looking for a target, but neither man is sure which direction the screech came from. Another spine-chilling screech lets out.
“Where is it coming from?” Kim asks desperately.
“Fuck knows,” Dixon answers, unsure if the sounds even came from the same source.
“It’s freaking me out,” Kim says.
“Stay calm, mate, we got this,” Dixon lamely tries to reassure.
The pick-up has made it to the start of the main terminal building and has slowed to almost a crawl. They need to be looking for an entry point into the building but neither Dixon nor Kim wants to give up their covering positions to look for one.
“What you reckon, Boss?” Kim asks.
“We need to get into that building A-sap.”
“Have you seen a way in?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look, but we are swinging in the wind out here,” Dixon says from behind
