We were surrounded.
Chandler stood next to me, inside of the doorway. I could feel the Stiffs banging on the door from the back of the froyo shop. It hurt my to know that my own mother was desperately searching to bite me, eat my insides.
"C'mon!" He yelled to me. His hand pulled my wrist out of the room, going to the left to avoid the rest of the Stiffs heading for the front of the froyo shop, not the back supply closet.
"Lets go before they turn around!"
He kept looking at me, to make sure I was still here, that he wasn't holding onto anyone else's wrist.
Ahead there were many different gates and many different shops.
"There!" I pointed, after spotting a tourist store with a purple sign. Someone had clearly closed the wide silver gate, although it would be east to slide open.
We arrived at the gate, aware of the very few Stiffs heading toward us from another side of the hall.
"Quick, slide up the gate. I got these ones." I told him, although inside I was regretting ordering him in such a rude way.
"Okay." He responded. The two Stiffs were two men. One was an obvious airport policeman, the other was a random man, dressed in a t-shirt and khakis.
All of my fear was wiped out of me. I went up to the short man, quickly jabbing the scissors into it's vulnerable temple. Not much blood splattered, but I made sure to hide the cut on my hand away from exposure.
The man fell to the floor, it's head slapping against the tile. I quickly backed away from the approaching dead cop, still glaring at the first Stiff that I had just gotten rid of.
But yet my fear was still gone. The sight of the pool of blood swarming underneath it's head and the extra still smothered on my weapon. I wish I had a different one.
The cop came close, as I repeated my actions onto it as I did to the other Stiff.
"Got it, c'mon I can hear them." Chandler shouted as the cop fell to the floor. I examined both the dead bodies.
The regular man had nothing on him, but the cop did. In his belt was a flashlight, a set of keys, handcuffs, and a gun.
The moans of the Stiffs were nearer, about to turn the corner. "C'mon!" Chandler repeated.
I bent down, and quickly tore the belt off of his thick waist, taking all the supplies with me.
I rolled under the gate with Chandler, and into the souvenir shop. I followed behind the counter, removing the things from underneath so I could squeeze in where the Stiffs couldn't see. He did the same.
Finally, it was quiet.
"What did you take from that Walker's belt?" He whispered. I instantly began silently cracking up, at the fact that he called the Stiff a 'Walker' from his TV show. It was just odd.
"What are you laughing at? This is no joke." He said in a serious tone. "Nothing, it's just that you called it a Walker... Carl." I giggled just a little bit more.
Chandler had a half smile form onto his face at my joke. The smile turned full, and he let out a small laugh. But his eyes returned to mine, back to seriousness.
"What did you grab?" He asked again.
"Just this belt full of stuff..." I held up the belt, showing the tools on it.
He grabbed for the gun, just like I knew he would. "Hey hey hey, that's mine!" I pulled the belt away from him.
"I know guns, and I know whats going on here." Said Chandler, with quite an attitude. "Well maybe you're not the only one." I shot back. I didn't know he could be this snotty.
He had an upset look plastered on his face, that would come back over and over again. It was familiar; he had made the same face on TV many times before hand.
"I'm sorry. I just can't believe..." He began. His voice got dull and choppy, while his eyes got red and watery. "I just never thought that-"
"That it could actually happen, I know me either." I told him. Who could have been more prepared for this than him; an actor that had spent his whole life in a show that you learn all about the drama you'd go through as well as the damage during a zombie apocalypse?
I thought about the gun. I knew how to handle and shoot one from my uncle. But Chandler, being an actor, knew how to handle all sorts; whether it was an airsoft or a real one.
"Here, take it." I held out the weapon. "But you said it was yours." He replied. "Nah," I shook my head, sliding the belt to him, "just give me the flashlight. I'm sure I'll find another dead cop sooner or later."
He rolled the flashlight over back to me, ad strapped the belt around his waist. "Save those keys, just incase we come across the security closet somewhere here. The cuffs, too." I recommended, and he nodded his head.
"Sure.. Uh..." He went back to whispering, although the Stiffs went quiet. "Riley, Ghent." I held out my hand to shake his, although I already knew pretty well who he was.
"Well, Riley, looks like we're all that we've got. Nice to meet your acquaintance." Chandler gave me another half smile.
My dream boy.
-----
"So, am I supposed to call them, Zombies? That sounds too dramatic." He shook his head, laughing but still meant the question.
"I don't know," I began, giggling along, "just not Walkers. I came up with Stiffs."
"But they're not stiff, they flop, you know?" The fun tone was fading. "Yeah, but their movement is sharp. They, like, flick their shoulders."
Chandler raised an eyebrow at me, with a curious smile. I knew what he was talking about. "Yeah, I was a big Walking Dead fan." Big fan? I told myself, I was practically obsessed with the show, including Carl Grimes; his character.
"I get it." His beautiful smile reappeared. "Do you think, all of this will last? Like in the show?"
"It depends." I responded. If half the Atlanta airport was already taken over, would there be enough infected people to spread the disease throughout the world? "Hey, did you watch the broadcasts when you're plane landed?" I asked him.
"Yeah it was terrible. Don't remind me." He rolled his eyes.
"Wait, but did you know where they were filming it live from?" What if the news crew was recording from Georgia? Or what if it was from far away, already across the country?
"Yeah, a lady was inside of some tech-room talking about the chaos going on 'just out side the door.' The bottom of the screen said Chicago."
"Oh shit." My heart thumped dangerously.
I already knew the answer; Haley, Ashton, Aunt Bethany, Freddie. Connecticut was definitely hit already. I didn't know for sure if they were dead, but I did know that they were like me; possibly alone and wondering where each of us were.
Freddie knew how much a fan I was of Chandler. But I couldn't imagine how heart broken the boy is-or was-just like me.
Being without Freddie and my friends was devastating. My hand already longed for the feeling of Freddie's inside of mine. I flexed out my hands uncomfortably.
"Well, yeah oh shit. Everything is 'oh shit' now, I guess." He told me. I noticed him staring at my tapping fingers.
"It's just that, my friends. I live in Connecticut, so." Our feet touched.
"Why are you here then?" Now he looked at me, for about the fifth time back and forth.
"My mom and I were moving to California. Didn't want to, but I guess I wish I did now? I don't know. I'm sure I would have been home alone anyway." I ran my fingers through my hair, and wiped the blurriness from my eyes.
"That sucks." Said Chandler, although he said it quite pathetically. I could tell he cared, but I didn't think he wanted to talk about it with me.
I was sweating, and I desperately need to change out of these shoes and skin-tight jeans. My outfit was clear in my head. A pair of not-too-tight jeans, a button-up shirt and my old work boots. I wanted so bad for more comfortable clothes.
"Alright, I don't know about you, but I need to find a new outfit." I began to slowly slide out from under the tight counter.
Chandler followed me. I noticed how he hadn't carried a bag; he only had his new police belt.
"You didn't take anything with you?" I questioned him.
"Nope. Straight off the plane and then... Yeah." He told me. We were now crouched down, about to check for approaching Stiffs.
I nodded. "Okay. I need to find a clothes store here."
Chandler tied his sneaker and adjusted his foot inside of it. I could tell he wished for better shoes as well.
"Agreed."