It didn’t take long to find a healer. I didn’t think it would. Not everyone was in denial, and even those who thought this might all go away felt safer with a length of metal in their hands.
By the time Byron's expression relaxed from pain into fascination, we had four other healers lined up who were willing to help if the first guy wasn't enough. I saw Byron take a look at them, calculatingly, and for a moment I thought he was going to try injuring himself again just so he could get another first-hand look at the miraculous healing. After a moment, though, he directed them to check for injuries among the airport workers who'd accompanied us.
That didn't stop other people from coming up, begging for weapons of their own. In fact, we drew so much attention that I eventually ended up giving the wrench to a stranger. I regretted that, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day sitting and using it, and the mood of the crowd that had popped up around us was… tense. Those who got poles were grateful, but there were way more people in the concourse than stanchions. Every time someone walked off with a pole, they had the eyes of dozens of as-yet-unarmed people drilling into their back.
Unthinkingly, I’d taken the wrench with me when I got up to use the restroom, and two guys had followed me in. I’d told them where I was going, but they just didn’t trust me not to leave, I guess. They watched me take a piss, for God’s sake! Even at the end of the world, you just don’t do that.
They’d had the decency to look sheepish about it when I’d glared at them, but they hadn’t apologized. The clear relief of the crowd when I’d returned made it evident that they weren’t the only ones anxious over my brief departure. It made me hesitant to even consider taking the wrench with me when I left for good.
As we moved around the food court, disassembling the stanchions that made up their queues, Kurtis struck up conversations with the restaurant workers that were still huddling behind their counters. I kept an ear out, curious. I wasn’t sure how long food supplies here would last.
The gist of it? Not long.
As a harried woman working at a burger chain gave us more details. “We’d have expected another food delivery on Friday, but we wouldn’t be out of food by then. I’d expect what we have in stock to last until Sunday, normally. But… we don’t have any way to cook the beef patties or fries with the power out, and we’re filling a lot more orders. Our chicken was pre-cooked, but it’s gone already. Even the stuff that was still frozen!”
Some of the reasons for that were obvious. As I’d noticed when we entered, this concourse was way more crowded than Concourse B had been. Beyond that, many of the restaurant counters stood empty. There was no one at the pizza chain or the Chinese restaurant. I was told they had given away food until they’d run out of what they had made, but for now they sat silent as the restaurants around them were mobbed. There was probably still edible stuff inside those darkened storefronts, but few would think to hunt down a jar of olives when actual sandwiches - however simple - were still available.
Kurtis filled us in on the details we hadn’t overheard. “There’s still food for now, though.”
Byron snorted. “Yeah? For how long?”
“Does it matter? Fighting those monsters is suicide!”
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“Staying here is suicide.”
“Is it suicide to leave?” Davi interrupted their argument. “I mean, the idea is scary as hell, but I’ve been talking to people too. Most of the people from the terminal came here, because something broke one of the doors or windows and the monsters got in. But, not, you know, everybody. The people I talked to said that some stayed behind to fight and make sure the monsters didn’t get into the rest of the airport. There’s no monsters here so… maybe that’s working? They must be fighting at least kind of successfully. We could at least look. Make an informed decision.”
Byron and Kurtis looked at each other, and Kurtis slowly nodded. “We should check security, too. Anything the TSA thinks is too dangerous to go on a plane, I want.”
“I look forward to watching you take out monsters with a full-size bottle of hair conditioner,” Davi said.
Kurt gave her an irritated look and she held up her hands. “Just teasing! It’s a good idea. I’ve heard people try to take some real crazy stuff. I’d betray my table leg for a machete in a heartbeat.”
The four of us pushed the still-slumbering John across the skybridge. Compared to the concourse, it was largely empty. A plane had actually stalled out underneath us, the skybridge elevated enough to allow the massive vehicles to taxi beneath. We were surprisingly high up, higher than the concourses... which I guess made sense. The concourses were there to let people walk on and off planes, and the skybridge would be useless if we couldn't go over them.
The floor-to-ceiling windows and higher vantage gave me a clear view of a huge portion of the tarmac. It was flat and open enough that the monsters were very noticeable, even with their diminutive size. They weren’t holding perfectly still, but I could see far enough into the distance to make it clear that they were still spaced near-equidistantly, with only a few exceptions. A few were clustered around a truck with a partially-open window, and as I watched I saw one launch itself at the narrow space. I saw a flash of light as someone inside hit its face with a Fire Bolt or something similar, and the monster was knocked away, for now. Seconds later, another two went for the space simultaneously. They actually hit each other midair! Another bright missile streaked out of the opening, but it missed both entirely.
“They’re not coordinated. The monsters. They’re not good at working together. I just saw two of them go for someone simultaneously and they got in each other’s way. If they’d gone in turns, one of them might have gotten through.”
“Wow, that’s great, Vince. You’ve found their damn weakness. Nothing can stop us now.” Kurtis muttered, dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s something,” I said defensively.
To all of our disappointment, the security station at the end of the bridge had already been scavenged. Bins of confiscated items had been dumped across the floor, and nothing truly dangerous remained. I grabbed a small multi-tool anyway. Even if I didn’t want to fight a monster with a two-inch blade, we’d already seen how critical tools could be. Scissors, tweezers, pliers, a can opener - these were all things I could see myself being grateful to have.
A tentlike ceiling arched above us as we left the skybridge and entered the terminal. The windows to our sides had been replaced by offices, but the white ceiling overhead let through enough light that we could still see clearly enough to walk.
Compared to the concourses, the bridge and the first part of the terminal had been empty, only a few scattered individuals pressed against windows or sleeping in empty patches of floor, but we had been able to hear shouting in the distance. As a sign overhead directed us to Baggage Claim, we saw a crowd of people.
There’d been thousands of people in the terminal and Concourse A when the world went mad this morning. Most had retreated from the monsters, hiding and huddling.
Most.
Not all.
Here, we found the hundreds that had decided to fight.