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“Get up!” I yelled, torn between leaving the man and dragging him with me.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t even glance my way. Thick clouds had gathered overhead, washing the forecourt in grey, and he just sat there on the curb, oblivious to everything around him.

More people had escaped through the terminal doors, some wearing protective yellow jumpsuits splattered with blood. Others had dressed in jeans and coats, as if they’d shown up to collect loved ones. Masks were half-ripped from faces, and one man was missing a shoe.

And the sound… God, it came from every direction. Tyres squealed. Thumping footsteps and screams echoed inside the airport.

“Dammit, I do not need this shit.” I clenched my hands into fists and stomped over to the man. “Hey. Are you alive?”

I stood where I could watch both him and the terminal doors, but he kept his head cradled in his hands and still wouldn’t acknowledge me.

Overgrown dark hair curled over his ears. Dressed in a navy shirt and jeans, his mask rested under his chin, and a pile of discarded PPE sat beside him.

Nine in the morning, and he’d completely checked out.

An older woman with a blood-soaked blouse exited the building, putting pressure on the wound in her neck as she staggered to a stop. She locked eyes with me and whispered, “Help me.”

Blood pulsed between her fingers and flowed down her forearm, her knees trembling as if they were seconds from crumpling.

My gut squeezed, and I took one step forward before I stopped myself.

Nope. No. Sorry.

She’d be gone in a minute. I hadn’t spent a year social distancing and avoiding the Ultimus virus just to die before I saw my sister again.

As she collapsed on the ground, I swallowed past the ache in my throat and stepped closer to the man. “Don’t be an idiot,” I said, giving his shoulder a firm shake. “You need to get up.”

He didn’t have any obvious symptoms. No coughing or blood, and he wasn’t struggling for air. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were a warm bourbon brown framed with thick, dark lashes, his gaze steady and free from panic.

“What?” He frowned and reached under his hair, pulling out a wireless earbud. Tinny music played at a volume loud enough to make the average person’s ears bleed.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath. “You haven’t heard a single scream? The announcements? People are tearing into each other, and you’re just sitting there.”

He paused the song. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Look around. You need to move.” And so did I.

Another scream tore through the air. They were getting closer, but at least this one snagged his attention.

He pushed off the curb and slung his backpack over one shoulder, towering over me as he scanned the area.

Two men were throwing punches, and a young woman yanked a burly guy down by his shirt, tearing into his cheek with her teeth.

“Jesus.” He slipped his phone into his back pocket and raked a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like this five minutes ago.”

“An alarm went off while I was walking through the terminal,” I said. “When I got out here, this started.”

Some passengers sprinted from the building while others stumbled and bled all over the ground. We were far enough from the terminal doors that no one cared about us, but I tracked them just in case.

“What started?” He removed his other earbud and tucked them both away. “What is this?”

A woman in a baseball cap came outside with a ripped sleeve on her hoodie, a circular red stain seeping through the material. A man followed, his eyes blank with shock as he clutched the bloody shoulder of his PPE suit.

Both of them had been bitten, but neither wound appeared fatal.