I came back to the breakroom with the poles from four industrial mops, as well as handles to a smaller kitchen mop and broom. There was some tension initially; I was willing to hand most of them out to whomever wanted them, but no one wanted to be unarmed. Six poles would only arm a third of us. When an airport worker tried to grab the last metal staff from my hands, I hadn’t been willing to let it go. It was a weapon I actually knew how to fight with! His argument was that he had more right to it than me, as an airport employee.

Most of the people with us were inclined to side with their coworker, and I might have been disarmed if I hadn’t remembered the toolbox in the supply closet. We brought it out and unscrewed the legs from all the breakroom tables, giving us a dozen more makeshift metal maces. That gave everyone some kind of weapon.

Even Kurtis took one. Eventually.

Before he’d accepted his mace, he’d asked for my company back to the door. We opened it long enough for him to lay a hand on the cart and attempt to use his ability. The whole cart lit up blue for a bare second, then faded as Kurt sagged, stumbling back to safety behind the door.

The second we shut it, he sagged against the floor. “I’m an idiot. I could have had fireballs like Byron.”

Usually I wouldn’t leave a straight line like that alone, but this was a change from Kurt’s usual smarmily positive attitude. He might be a dick, and management besides, but he was still a friend.

I tapped the door. “Got us in here.”

“I guess. Fat fucking lot of good that does us.”

“We’re still alive. We’ve got weapons now.”

He looked up at me, and even in the flickering dim light, I could see how angry he was. “And so what? We’re in Colo-fucking-rado. I thought I could get a car working…” He slammed a foot into the door. “We’re not gonna walk back to Alabama, Vince. Not fast enough.”

I wasn’t the only one worried about family. Kurtis had a wife and a five-year-old girl.

“We’ll figure something out,” I told him. “We have to.”

Kurtis turned his face away. I couldn’t make out his expression in the shadows. “Just… get out of here, Moretti. Take the candle. I’ll be along soon. I just need… some rest.”

When he’d entered the break room again an hour later, he seemed to have himself under control… even if he was unusually quiet.

I tried to demonstrate some kata while we waited for our sleeping beauties to awaken. The lack of space made it difficult to truly do any teaching or learning, which was a shame because it was rare that I’d seen people so focused or intent on learning. There were a few other people who had a little weapons training: a girl with some jiu-jitsu experience was able to help me take the people with staves through the jo kata and a guy who’d briefly tried kendo years before and still remembered enough to assist with bokken instruction.

Not that bokken drills were that useful. They’d been meant for swords, not table legs. Honestly, all the kata any of us knew were meant for attacking and defending against other humans, not wild animals. What else could we do, though? At least these would help people get used to moving the weapons around.

It took three hours for John and Steve to wake up and insist they felt fine.

By then everyone was ready to leave. We’d burned through about a third of our candle wax, and we wouldn’t find any replacements here. If we tried to stay long-term, we’d soon be huddling in the dark.

By unspoken agreement none of us told John that the airport staff had smashed open the vending machine to raid its snacks. Better to get out of here before he found out and started offering moral lectures to the nice people who’d shared their looted cookie packets.

Our journey started off better than I expected. A monster was waiting for us outside the door, but we were ready. Everyone had taken the time to get some ability, and a flurry of ranged attacks knocked it off balance long enough for me to hit the monster with a Powerful Blow. It was the first time I’d activated my ability, and it felt… strange. At first, I wasn’t sure I’d activated it correctly, but when the end of my staff smacked against the monster’s side the little thing went flying over ten feet, bouncing off a concrete wall. It didn’t get up immediately. Davi darted forward, swinging her table leg like a golf club to smash it against the wall one more time.

That was enough to finish it off, the gray smoke drifting up as it disappeared.

There was a moment’s silence as Steve flared his Light ability to cover as large of an area as he could, letting everyone scan for more threats.

Then someone laughed, a slightly hysterical sound of relief that broke the silence.

We’d done it.

Taken out a monster without injuries.

Sure, the thing was probably about a foot tall, and it had taken more than ten of us, but we’d done it. We could do it. The accomplishment gave our group enough confidence to keep moving forward.

There’d been some debate about which route we should take back to the main terminal. We could have gone back to the underground road the baggage trucks took, but we now knew that wasn’t totally safe. Candlelight didn’t illuminate a large area around us; if we did get attacked, it was unlikely we’d see our enemy before it struck.

The other option was making our way into Concourse A, which was connected to the main terminal by a skybridge-type structure. We were hopeful that the inside of the building would be safe, and certain it would be decently lit, and that was tempting to all of us… but we'd have to actually get into the concourse first.

According to the employees, our surest route up to Concourse A was up the ramp near the door to the breakroom, then out into the giant hangar under the boarding areas. Several sets of stairs led from the hangar to the concourse above, and the airport employees insisted that there was one not far from the top of the ramp. There was some debate about how far exactly, but at worst it shouldn’t be more than a couple hundred feet.

It likely wouldn’t be pitch-black up there either, but that benefit stemmed from the major issue with this route: large garage doors led from the cavernous space out onto the tarmac proper, allowing baggage carts and trucks to move in and out. Some might have already been closed - a Wednesday wasn’t the busiest flying day of the week - and others might have been pulled shut after calamity struck, but the faint light we’d seen over the ramp earlier made it clear some were open. In all likelihood, the monster we’d fought earlier had made it inside through one of those very doors. If we’d fought one down here, how many more were above?

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

In the end, a short stretch of known danger had appealed to people a lot more than a long trek in the uncertain dark.

We only had to go about 200 feet after we’d gone up the ramp, a little more than half a football field. We were still pulling the cart, filled with our bags and anything useful anyone could find in the breakroom. Steve was riding it too, using his ability to ensure the area around us was brightly lit and watching our back. He thought he’d be okay keeping Light up long enough for us to reach the other door, but if not, at least he was already on the cart.

We rolled the cart over the top of the ramp, entering the vast space under Concourse A.

The first thing I noticed was the blood. Some doors to the outside had been closed, but most were open. There were thick shadows in the corners, but most of the area was clearly visible. Crimson trails criss-crossed the pavement, and bodies littered the ground. I’d seen corpses often enough in movies and video games, but these were nothing like that. These monsters might be dangerous, but they were small. Most people hadn’t died from a single slash or bite, or even from a handful. When these people had died, they’d died slowly. Twenty feet away, lit by sunlight from an open garage door, I could see a body. I couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman, and the face was too damaged to make out anything about the person’s features. I almost wanted to deny that the pile of mangled meat and tattered clothing had ever been a person, but one pristine hand was outstretched toward us, denying me that lie.

“Oh god.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Shit! Shit! We gotta get out of here!”

I could hear vomiting behind me, and I forced my eyes away from the bodies before I followed suit.

“Where’s the door?” I asked.

Marina pointed.

I stepped out in front, staff at the ready. “We need to get moving! Let’s go!”

There were some whining complaints, people who’d rather turn back, but the break room held only an illusion of safety. We’d already cleaned out everything of value from there; returning would only give the monsters a chance to encroach further while we gained nothing of value. I moved, and enough people followed to convince the hesitant. They were scared, but not quite scared enough to go off alone.

I could see dozens of the monsters, but fortunately, they didn’t all turn on us. Beyond a certain point, they didn’t react to our presence at all.

The first monster ran at us and I struck as it leapt, remembering to activate my ability. Powerful Blow and an on-target spearing jab from my mop handle knocked it out of the air, and it landed on its side, twitching weakly. I kept moving, letting those behind me stomp on it or take a swing as they went by.

I managed to intercept the next monster as well, but the one after attacked us from the side, and I heard someone yell in pain before it was put down. I couldn’t be everywhere, and while I’d had years of experience with staff weapons, it wasn’t in fighting enemies like these.

Another monster came at us from the front, but it wasn’t alone: a second followed right behind it. They kept low to the ground, focused on someone behind me, so I spun out to the side as I jabbed down at the one on the left. The other ran under the cart and I heard a man’s yell as it took him by surprise. I hoped whoever it was hadn’t been hurt. It had sounded like Byron.

The door we were heading for was visible, and we stayed in motion even as the group took injuries. Even when a monster managed to sink all its claws into one man’s leg, we paused only for seconds to help him onto the cart, John crawling in after to do his best to halt the bleeding.

Intellectually, I knew it could have only been minutes since we’d set out across the bloodied cavern - or maybe only seconds - but when we finally reached the door it felt like an eternity later. Kurtis laid his hand on it and someone else yanked it open the moment the blue glow appeared.

We helped our injured inside and quickly slung the suitcases in, then slammed the door behind us before more monsters could arrive.

“Did you see the bodies?” Davi asked. “Those people couldn’t get the door open. They just died out there, inches from safety.”

“They can’t all have died!” said one of the employees. “My brother was working here today!”

“There’s people still alive out there. Some of the trucks had closed cabs. Bunches of people crammed together inside. We should… help them…” John had slumped against the wall, and as he talked, his eyes drooped shut.

His words had fallen into a lull in the groans and chatter. We all looked at each other. None of us wanted to go back out there, and we sure as hell weren’t prepared to. John had stopped the bleeding from several of the cuts on the man whose leg had been shredded, but now he was asleep. The other woman who’d taken Healing Touch had finished halting the bleeding. She was still awake, but she looked exhausted now and there were still four others bearing lesser wounds. Byron had been bitten in his right calf, a neat oval of punctures leaking blood down the back of his leg. Davi and Kurtis were kneeling next to him, trying to use a roller bandage to fix a gauze pad in place. Byron’s fists were clenched and he was muttering softly under his breath as they worked.

“We should get our injured up to the concourse,” I said. “I’m sure we can find someone up there to help us. Either someone who already has a healing ability or someone who’s willing to take one.”

“Yeah, but…” Marina looked off at the door, blood streaks on the window a stark reminder of what lay beyond.

“I’ll wait. If a group tries to get in, I can open it for them. It only locks from the outside.”

The speaker was the woman who had been worrying about her brother moments before. We left the woman a fresh candle in exchange for the excuse to leave that she’d given us.

Kurtis helped me carry John up the stairs - not an easy task - while Davi attempted to support a wincing Byron. Their height difference meant that it was a lot like watching Elmo try to support Big Bird.

We were able to track down one of the airport’s loaner wheelchairs so we could stop carrying John, but Byron had to limp along. I didn’t know if the wound had been bandaged poorly, or if the injury was just that bad, but the bandage was soaked red already, mere minutes after it had been put on. Davi took over pushing John’s wheelchair, allowing Byron to lean on me instead. I still didn’t match his height, but I had a good five inches over Davi. It made things easier for him, a little.

Stepping out into the concourse proper was bewildering after hours of dim light and candles. The soft light from the skylights and large windows seemed almost unreal.

Ahead of me, Davi had stopped, head tilted toward the skylight above. “I can’t believe it’s just early afternoon. It feels… it doesn’t feel like it should be the same day anymore. When I woke up this morning I watched Netflix for an hour and then went down to have a bagel. Then I spent hours in a literal nightmare, and now…”

Davi waved an arm at Concourse A, which was startlingly calm, for all that it seemed far more crowded than Concourse B. People seemed tense, but no one was screaming or yelling anymore. Most were sitting quietly, or staring out the windows. Airport workers weren’t being mobbed anymore. In fact, I saw two pushing a cart down the center, handing out drinks and cheese sandwiches to any who asked.

Kurtis spotted them too. “I’ll grab us some.”

We had some food and drink in our backpacks and suitcases, but that was a resource we couldn’t easily replace. I wasn’t in a hurry to eat it. Food handouts did mean that we wouldn’t be able to barter that food for healing, but I had a plan.

The heavy metal poles of the stanchions were everywhere, marking out the edges of queues at shops, restaurants, and boarding areas. I’d gotten a good look at the bottom of one before our subterranean adventure, and while the whole toolbox had been too heavy to carry with, I’d made sure to find space for an adjustable wrench, screwdriver, and hammer.

We’d emerged in between a chinese restaurant and a pizza shop, so I helped Byron into a chair and started disassembling the poles.

As I expected, my actions attracted a lot of interest almost immediately. We’d found weapons, but most people hadn’t. I offered a pole to Davi to try, who gave it a few exploratory swings to see if she preferred it to her table leg.

She decided to keep her table leg - "Easier for me to grip " - but her weapon testing made a lot of people stop what they were doing and stare.

A spiky-haired teenage boy approached us first. "Can I have that? Or can you take another one of those apart for me?”

“Sure,” I said. “Can you help me find a healer for my friend?”