“Go, go, go!” Alders shouts.
The hold door’s locking mechanism releases and the door slides like a rocket across, slamming into the end stop, surplus adrenaline overloading my power. I jump into the buffeting wind of the rotors and down onto the concrete. Alders has found a gap in the Rabids, but they are closing in quickly. I whip around and slide the door closed. As soon as it slams shut, Alders powers the engines and takes the Lynx straight up.
God only knows what he is thinking as he hovers stationary, above. I feel his eyes staring down looking at me as Rabids speed, closing in on my position.
Letting them come, I don’t move, the M4 pointed away from my body at the height of my stomach, ready to fire. Fear grips me as their terrifying faces, baying for blood, hurtle towards me. Their screeches overpower the din of the Lynx above as the Rabids shoot past me in their futile attempt to reach the helicopter, that is now well out of their reach.
Relief washes over me as my ultimate gamble pays off and the Rabids ignore my presence. I can almost hear Alders’ gasps of disbelief and shock as he realises my truth.
The gamble won, I don’t hang about to celebrate my small victory or to watch Alders leave. I’m off and running towards the smashed glass of the departure gate doors on the ground level of the Terminal 5 building. I will retrace where I know the others were, starting with the departure lounge. I know I won’t find them there; the lounge will have been overrun long ago. Next will be, up the escalator and to the First-Class lounge, where I last saw them. They could have barricaded themselves inside there. If they aren’t there, I will search the whole building until I do find them or get incinerated by the nuclear blast.
There is no time to take things slow and cautious; my patience won’t allow it either. My boots crunch through the shards of broken glass scattered across the ground that threaten to slide my feet from beneath me as I cross the threshold into the building. I adjust to the new atmosphere quickly as I hit the winding staircase that will take me up to the departure lounge. Taking the steps two at a time, I am quickly near the summit and see the door frames that will take me in, their glass panels shattered too.
A Rabid, attracted by my noise echoing up the stairwell, appears at the top of the stairs, beyond the broken doors. The creature looks at me quizzically, until my M4 shoots it between the eyes. I have seen enough of their grotesque faces to last me a lifetime and I can’t afford to mess about.
Stepping over the dead Rabid body and onto the departure lounge level, I turn a corner. The lounge is spread out in front of me and it has seen a tremendous fight. Bodies in military uniform and Rabid bodies are strewn across the wide area, their blood pooling on the highly polished floor. Walls are riddled with bullet holes and blackened from explosions. Dust hanging in the air enters my lungs again, along with the smell of cordite.
I move forward more cautiously now, to avoid the Rabid creatures that still shuffle around between the bodies and upturned tables and chairs but also, to avoid getting mistaken for a zombie and shot by any troops that may still remain. The images of dead faces enter my brain, even though I try to avoid looking at them. A young squaddie’s tortured face imprints on my mind. His dead eyes look out from under a row of airport seating that is fixed to the floor as if he was trying to hide from the terror beneath the uncomfortable seating.
Pressing deeper into the lounge, I go past the food serving station that my breakfast was served from yesterday. The hotplates still lie on top of the tables, cleaned ready for the next serving that will now never happen. Veering right towards the stationary escalator that will take me up to the First-Class lounge level, I see a body slumped over the table where I ate my breakfast with the others, including Dan. Blood slowly drips from the tabletop and onto the floor below, where it splatters into morbid patterns.
The Rabids look at me as I go, but don’t take much notice, my new camouflage still fooling them. Low behind my M4, I approach the frozen escalator where a creature mills around at the bottom entrance as if it is waiting for the escalator to spring back to life. I decide to take the rabid out and focus my aim.
My finger reaches for the rifle's trigger when a dulled sound of shooting vibrates into the departure lounge from above. Could that be Josh shooting, or Alice? Are they in trouble? Panic hits me. Screeches rise from behind me; I am not the only one who has heard the noise. I have missed my easy shot at the Rabid by the escalator. The beast is winding up to climb up the escalator, towards the new sound as it wakens from its stupor. Filling it full of bullet holes as it arrives in between the snaking black, rising rubber handrails of the escalator, it falls forward into the first few metal steps.
The body still twitches but I make my break for the escalator. Rabid noises are rising right behind me as the race to reach the new noise from above starts. I reach the entrance to the escalator first, just, but Rabids are on my
