My way of celebrating Spooktober is by writing a horror story. I don’t usually write horror but since it is the spookiest time of the year, I thought why not. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

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I was already awake before the sun peeked over the horizon. Still groggy from the three hours of sleep I got and the previous night’s party, I sipped on a mug of strong black coffee that left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. Splashing my face with water, a pair of tired, glum eyes stared back at me from the mirror. No matter how much I tried to prevent myself from falling under the spell of melancholia, it prevailed. Like a cocoon, it enveloped my entire being. The city had injected me with enough toxicity that the cocoon of misery no longer felt like a heavy blanket. But rather like a cumbersome burden that the thought of sleeping like Aurora brought a little respite.

I kept telling myself that in a few hours, I would escape the city’s clutches. For a few days, I would recuperate, lick my wounds and then return, diving into a world where they played hockey with an individual’s mind. I chugged on the remains of the black liquid, packed up my things and stepped into the humid morning air. 

As I sat in the car, my eyes studied the city landscape. The sun had begun to rise, casting the peaceful city in its orange hue, highlighting all the good it had to offer. I had run towards it in the hopes of starting anew. But it was nothing more than a giant mousetrap set for ambitious people who yearned for the top. I tightened the grip on my sling bag as I berated myself for falling for its illustrious illusion. Watching the airport come into view, I let out a sigh. In a few hours, I would be free. I would be sunbathing on a sandy beach while sipping cocktails from a hollowed-out coconut without a care in the world.

I tipped the cab driver a little extra for his services before turning towards the architectural structure that rose before me. Clutching the handle of my suitcase tight, I lugged it. I zipped through the crowd gathered at the entrance before coming to a halt, joining the queue of citizens that waited to get inside. Annoyed with the innumerable number of people gathered there, I mumbled under my breath. I had chosen the earliest flight possible to avoid human contact. But to my dismay, my strategic plan failed.

I readjusted my mask as I took a step closer to the gate. The loud chatter of people coupled with the slight hangover I was having thanks to the previous night’s festivities, my mood turned sour. When my turn finally came, I showed the well-uniformed guard my flight ticket and my identity proof. Barely looking at my picture, he waved me in, sending a wave of relief over me. But my respite was short-lived. My heart dropped when my eyes settled on the large crowd gathered at the check-in counter. The mere sight of the mass gathered there told me that I would be stuck for at least thirty minutes. Cursing under my breath, I walked towards the line I hoped would take the least amount of time.

As I stood there waiting, I fished out my phone and began scrolling through all the unread messages I had ignored. The line moved excruciatingly slow while the hands on the clock continued on its speed run. I glanced at it feeling the anxiousness build up in my chest. Twenty minutes had passed, and I had barely moved from my original station. I scratched the inner side of my thumb as I peeked over the tall man standing in front of me. The cause for the hold-up was a man trying to convince the ground staff that he wasn’t drunk, even though his glassy eyes and dishevelled clothes said otherwise. 

After a few more minutes of arguing at the counter, one of the member’s took him aside to solve the matter. Once again, the line began to move at a snail’s pace, but that did nothing to ease my nerves. I kept glancing at the wall clock, watching the second’s hand tick the time away. Recalling the exercise I had been taught, I began to take deep breaths trying to bring my frantic heart to its normal rhythm. I tore my eyes away from the clock and focused on the ground staff members instead. Like me, they appeared anxious. Not the calm, collected demeanour I was used to seeing. I watched one of them try the radio she held over and over again while the other took off towards the arrivals gate. I could see her eyebrows bunch up with worry that made my gut churn. Something was not right.

As I took one step closer towards the counter, the lights went out. Everything stood still. The only sound I could hear was the person breathing next to me. An eerie silence swept through the airport. People mumbled under their breath as they waited for the lights to turn back on. Someone groaned in the darkness, which was soon followed by the sound of dragging feet. Pulling my suitcase closer to my body, I backed towards the counter while the groaning continued.

The sound of the generator coming to life reverberated throughout the building. As the lights flickered alive, I caught sight of three figures slowly making their way towards us. Two of them looked like passengers, while the other was the ground staff member I had seen run towards the arrivals gate. The dark blue uniform she wore no longer remained immaculate. It had tears and large gashes on it that her nameplate was hanging for its life from the remains of her coat. And then I noticed the blood. The red velvety liquid that trickled down the side of her neck soiling her clothes.

I took a step back as I watched her colleague approach her out of concern. The moment the flickering lights stabilized, I heard the crowd sighed with relief. The sound of the belt whirred back to normal, but time stopped for me. One second stretched into one long minute. The background noise faded. 

I could hear the muffled voice of the staff member at the counter call out to me. But my attention was hyper-focused on the scene that unfolded. My eyes widened in horror as the injured woman pounce on her friend with a ferocity only displayed in the wild. The two of them fell to the floor. I watched her open her mouth and sink in her teeth into her friend’s neck, ripping out the flesh. Blood splattering all over her face.  

A scream erupted from somewhere in the crowd, snapping me out of my trance. My head turned to see the two passengers pounce on a traveller who was too busy attending a business call to notice the two creatures that had walked up to him. Mayhem broke loose. People screamed and ran in all directions. The security guards posted at the main entrance rushed into the building on hearing the commotion. I covered my ears as they fired shots at the creatures. 

Through squinted eyes, I watched the chaos. A wave of the undead hurtled towards us. Pouncing on their prey with such agility that sent many people to the floor. I watched one guard after the other go down before turning to see one of them take notice of my presence. I saw the feral look in its eyes, the claw marks that marred its face and the blood that trickled down its mouth. It was hungry. And I was the juiciest prey in its vicinity. With arms outstretched, it lunged at me. 

My body froze, but luckily my reflexes took over. With all my strength, I kicked my suitcase at it, making it stumble to the ground. Buying myself some time, I broke into a sprint. Even though I had contemplated death many times, being mauled by a zombie was not the way I wanted to go. With no weapons to fend off the onslaught of the dead, I ran towards the half-eaten security guard. I unfastened the baton from his belt and picked up the unused gun lying next to him. I got up to make another run for it but stumbled forward, falling to the floor. Feeling the icy cold grip on my ankle. Panic engulfed me.

Without much thought, I quickly turned my head to see the security guard come to life. My body shook as I watched him sit up, his intestines hanging out of the hole in his abdomen. Tears trickled down the side of my face. I hesitated for a moment before pointing the gun at him. With trembling hands, I forced myself to pull the trigger. The gun went off, and a hole appeared right in the centre of his forehead. Everything slowed down as I watched him collapse to the floor with a dull thud. 

My heart rate doubled, and my breathing became frantic. I couldn’t breathe. I tried convincing myself that hyperventilating was something I couldn’t afford to do. But my body disobeyed my words. My trachea constricted, making my situation worse. My hand lifted to my face to pull down the mask that covered my nose and mouth. But halted when a thought crossed my mind. I got to my feet, fired a shot at another zombie that came at me, picked up the baton and bolted towards the gates. 

As I ran, I watched the glass doors begin to slide close. The extra security stationed just beyond the gate egging me on to run faster. I summoned whatever strength I had left in my body and sprinted as fast as I could. Picturing the past when I was a track runner, I bolted, dodging as many zombies that came my way. It was mere luck that they weren’t fast enough. While bullets and blood flew around me, I dived through the threshold, and the glass doors shut immediately. I panted for breath as I kneeled on the pavement, taking a moment to collect myself. I closed my eyes and performed the breathing exercise I had been taught. 

“You’re lucky you had this on you,” Someone said. My eyes opened to see a military person standing over me. I turned to see what he was talking about to find my laptop bag still hanging on my shoulders. In that commotion, I had forgotten all about it. I slid it off me to see it in complete ruin. The front part of it was completely ripped. What remained intact was the compartment that held the laptop. Had it not been there, my back would have been a canvass to the array of claw marks. 

As I stood up, my body froze when my eyes settled on the people who were still trapped inside. Through their respiration that fogged up the glass, I could see the fear in their eyes. They repeatedly banged their fists on the glass door, begging to be let out. Even though the military could hear their muffled cries, they chose to ignore them. Blood suddenly splattered the glass door as a number of the undead pounced on them. Through the screams, flesh and blood flew in all directions. 

I forced myself not to look any longer. Had I been even a second late, I could have been stuck inside. Carrying the remains of my bag, I followed the military personal that led me to the quarantine area. As I entered the makeshift tent, the few survivors seated there turned to look at me. Not knowing what to do, I took the nearest available seat that I could find. 

I fished out my phone from the pocket of my trousers and thanked the universe it was still intact. As I scrolled through my news feed, my suspicions were confirmed. The virus had mutated south of the country, causing a handful of people who had refused the precautionary jab to transform into the undead. Reports of attacks on various train stations and airports filled the screen. I cursed under my breath, hoping that it was all just a dream. 

As my fingers navigated my phone, my leg began to ache. A dull aching pain travelled up my shin, steadily increasing with intensity. Reaching one hand down, I began to massage it while my eyes remained on the screen. My thumb hovered above the call button below the picture of my mother when I felt the fresh wound just above my ankle. My heart skipped a beat. I recalled the grip on my ankle and the rugged nails that had dug into it. With bated breath, I peered at it and felt my world collapse. Just above my ankle, where the lining of my trousers ended, was a festering wound oozing out blood.

(Featured Image obtained from Pinterest.)