Rich Kids and Zombies [On Hold]

Chapter One: Airport Mayhem

WARNING: Some brief swearing, moderate gore. This is a zombie novel, after all. If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment or a vote! They make my day <3

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V E R O N I C A

Outside, it was pouring.

Veronica Stephenson snuggled deeper into the heavy woollen blanket that she had draped over her shoulders. It wasn't cold - in fact, it was in the middle of summer - but the gloomy weather and her dismal surroundings combined were enough to make anyone chilled to the bone.

Behind her, some random baby was screaming, as it had been for what seemed like an eternity, and the noise was nearly driving Veronica mad. To her right, a family of six were speaking loudly over the baby's wails as the parents struggled to control their rowdy kids, one of whom was wearing a mask. To her left, a poor (and rather cute) security guard was literally being swamped with people trying to get an explanation about the outbreak, an estimation of when the nearest flight would be available, and why there had been at least three government helicopters spotted in the past hour alone.

"Everyone, please!" The security guard's cheeks were flushed red, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. "I don't know anything - there haven't been any new updates from the local police, the news is down, everything's down, we're running on backup generators..."

Veronica tuned him out. She flicked a strand of golden hair out of her eye, then shoved her blanket off. It was getting hot again, especially with the air conditioning turned off. Everyone had received a blanket after it was announced that the planes had been delayed, which meant that they probably had to camp out at the airport for the night. Like that would compensate for everything. 

Yeah, sorry about the fact that we know nothing and we practically have no power. Here, have a blanket!

She had half a mind to go and complain to somebody and flash her VIP membership like a boss, but the first time she'd tried that the lady at the help desk gave her the same answer like she had given everyone else: "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing we can do."

"Bullshit," she had snapped right back. "I want to talk to your manager. I'm a VIP, for god's sake!"

But the help desk lady had given her a blank stare and repeated exactly what she had said before, "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing we can do."

She had come so close to strangling that woman, but instead decided that it wasn't worth it and had turned around and stormed right back to her seat, where she had found an older woman sitting. Despite the fact that she had left her bags there to mark it as her territory, some random stranger had pushed the bags off of the seat and taken it herself. 

Veronica nearly lost it then, but managed to compose herself.

"Get out," she had said, deadly calm. 

The woman looked at her, and it was then that she noticed that her dark eyes were wet with tears. "I'm - I'm sorry, miss, I just...with everything's going on, I had to sit down...I can't reach my family, they're not replying my calls..."

"You think I care? Everybody here can't reach their family. I can't, and do you see me whining about it and damaging other people's property?" She had pointed one smooth, unblemished finger at one of her handbags on the ground. "That's Louis Vuitton - it's worth a lot. And if you don't get out of my seat in five seconds, I'm suing your ass."

That got the woman moving, all right, but not before she gave Veronica the finger as she left, a tear sliding down her cheek. "What type of person are you?!"

"A rich one," Veronica muttered to herself, now wishing that she had actually replied to that question. It made her feel queasy that she didn't. Instead, she had sat down, picked up her bags and her blanket, and listened to the thunder and rain and a million voices. 

Something bumped into her leg, snapping her out of her thoughts. Looking down, she saw a tuff of dirty blonde hair, a pale face, and a blue mask. Oh, that one kid from that one family.

She shook her leg at him, hoping to get the boy away. The last thing she needed was to get sick. 

The boy looked up at her. His eyes were cobalt in colour, like hers, but his veins stood out inside his iris, red rivers against the blue. They stared up at her blankly, dumbly - not in the helpless, tired way that the help desk lady had stared at her, but in a noncomprehending way. As if he saw her, but didn't at the same time.

A shiver travelled down Veronica's spine as the boy shuffled away, only to be scooped up by his father who had, apparently, nearly lost him when he was tending to his other kids. Her hands grasped the rough material of the blanket and heaved it around her shoulders again. This place gives me the creeps. 

She reached down into one of her bags and looked inside for her plane ticket. Her plane was supposed to have left for London more than five hours ago. London was where Jaime was, where her parents were. I guess they're probably wondering why I didn't call. I hope the outbreak's not too severe there. 

She had heard that the virus had already spread to Western and Southwestern Europe due to some infected guy managing to board a plane bound for Paris, and now people were being really careful about health and planes and stuff. Which suddenly made her wonder how the sick boy could've made it into the terminal. 

Sneaking a glance at the rowdy family, Veronica saw that the mother and a young girl had gone and joined the long line of people waiting to bulk buy food at the only store that remained open. The father was holding a young, sleeping infant in his arms, while the oldest child - a girl in her early teens - was looking at her phone. The sick boy was sitting beside what looked to be his twin sister, who was playing with wooden cars. He, however, was not. 

He was staring out the window with that same blank expression, looking out into the stormy darkness. His arm twitched. As Veronica watched, his sister turned to him and shook his arm, probably wanting him to play with her.

He turned to her, and before Veronica knew what was happening, the girl was screaming, the father was yelling, and suddenly people were running. And there was blood, too, red streaks of it that seeped into the carpet, painting it crimson. Something twisted inside her stomach, hard.

Someone in uniform grabbed her and heaved her to her feet - she blinked and the world came snapping back into reality. 

"Miss, you have to leave. This terminal is infected. You need to -"

And then the uniformed man was gone - no, not gone, but screaming in the floor in pain as a boy with ruffled blonde hair set upon his neck, teeth tearing into skin, more crimson blood painting everything red. Some got on her shoes as the boy suddenly looked up at her, face dripping blood, eyes white and red and...ravenous. 

He snarled, and instinct kicked in.

Veronica leapt backwards at the same moment the boy reached out for her leg, falling over the chairs and landing hard on her back. She barely registered the pain as she scrambled to her feet only to fall again as her ankle twisted in her heels. A scream ripped itself from her lips as she kicked off her heels, ignoring the stab of agony that shot up her ankle, and scrambled backwards. The boy was following her, snarling, snapping, until suddenly it was no longer following her and instead being restrained by more men in uniform, this time with guns. Once again, someone grabbed her, and practically flung her towards to the nearest exit. No words were exchanged. None were needed. 

And for once Veronica didn't care that she was barefoot, that her luggage was gone, that she was just as good as the panicking idiots she had been criticising earlier. She ran and ran and ran, screams and shouts all around her, until she found herself outside the airport, in the dark of the storm.