Gate C16

The automatic doors slid open as I stepped into the bustling terminal of O’Hare International Airport. Despite the early morning hour, the place was already alive with activity. Travelers hurried past, their wheeled suitcases clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. The air smelled of coffee and the faint, lingering scent of cleaning products.

I glanced at my watch—5:30 AM. Plenty of time before my 7:00 AM flight to Nashville. I had a big presentation to give there, one that could potentially land our company a lucrative contract. I’d been preparing for weeks, pouring over every detail, every line of code. It had to be perfect.

As I made my way towards the check-in counters, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement mixed with nerves. This trip represented a significant milestone in my career, a chance to prove myself on a bigger stage. Yet, at the same time, I felt a pang of guilt for feeling this way. Work had consumed me for the past year, to the point where I barely recognized my own life outside of it.

I joined the queue at the check-in counter, my carry-on bag slung over my shoulder. The line moved slowly, each traveler going through the motions of presenting their documents and answering the routine questions. As I waited, I pulled out my phone, habitually checking my emails. Seventeen new messages since I last checked 20 minutes ago. I sighed, pocketing the device. They could wait.

“Next, please!” The agent’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I stepped forward, handing over my passport and booking confirmation. The agent, a middle-aged man with a name tag that read “Mr. Darrow,” took my documents. He had a peculiar look about him, his eyes seeming to bore into me as he examined my passport.

“Ethan Marshall,” he read aloud, his voice carrying a strange, almost ominous tone. “Traveling to Nashville today, are we?”

I thanked Mr. Darrow and proceeded through security. The process was smooth, no unexpected hiccups or delays. As I made my way towards the terminal, I couldn’t resist the urge to check my email once more. I scrolled through the new messages, my mind already jumping ahead to the tasks that awaited me upon my return.

Nature called, and I decided to make a quick stop at the restroom before heading to my gate. As I washed my hands, an elderly gentleman standing at the neighboring sink smiled at me.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice warm and friendly.

“Morning,” I replied, returning his smile.

“Where are you headed today, young man?” He asked, reaching for a paper towel.

“Nashville. Business trip. You?”

“Greenville. Going to visit my daughter and her family. Haven’t seen my grandkids in months.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned, the anticipation of a family reunion evident in his expression.

We made small talk as we finished up, discussing the weather and the joys and pains of air travel. He shared a funny anecdote about his last trip, and I found myself chuckling along with him. It was a pleasant interaction, a brief moment of human connection amidst the solitude of solo travel.

As we exited the restroom, I found myself walking alongside him. He continued chatting amiably, but my attention was once again drawn to my phone. A new email had popped up, marked urgent. I opened it, my focus shifting to the screen.

The man’s voice trailed off, and an odd silence settled around us. I glanced up from my phone, an apology for my distraction on the tip of my tongue, but the words died in my throat.

The bustling terminal had vanished. The endless rows of chairs, the gleaming storefronts, the throngs of travelers—all gone. Instead, I found myself standing in the middle of an empty airport.

The space was cavernous, the high ceilings amplifying the eerie absence of sound. The check-in counters stood abandoned, the screens behind them dark and lifeless. The once vibrant ads and colorful signage seemed to fade into the background, their cheery messages now hollow and meaningless.

I turned to the old man, confusion and disbelief etched across my face, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was alone, the sole inhabitant of this desolate space.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Had I taken a wrong turn? Was this some kind of bizarre dream? I pinched myself, the sharp pain confirming the reality of my surroundings.

I reached for my phone, desperate to call for help, but the screen was blank. No signal, no connection to the outside world. I felt a rising sense of panic, my heart pounding in my chest.

I began to walk, my footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. I called out, my voice sounding small and insignificant in the cavernous space. No one answered. The silence pressed in on me, heavy and oppressive.

I walked through the deserted terminal, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the air conditioning. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. How could an airport just empty out like this?

As I passed by the shuttered storefronts and abandoned kiosks, a sound caught my attention. Laughter. A little girl’s laughter, high-pitched and carefree, echoing through the vacant halls. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Was I imagining things?

The laughter came again, clearer this time. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the gates. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should follow the sound. But curiosity and a desperate need for answers propelled me forward.

I walked quickly, my carry-on bag bouncing against my hip. The laughter grew louder as I approached the C gates, the sound eerie and unsettling in the otherwise silent airport. I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

There, at gate C16, was a little girl. She was skipping and twirling, her blonde hair flying out behind her. She seemed oblivious to the emptiness around her, lost in her own world of play.

And there, standing at the gate desk, was Mr. Darrow. The same man who had checked me in at the front desk. He watched the little girl with a smile on his face, as if nothing was amiss.

I approached cautiously, my mind struggling to make sense of the scene before me. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice sounding hoarse. “What’s going on here? Where is everyone?”

Mr. Darrow turned to me, his smile never wavering. “Ah, Mr. Marshall. I see you’ve found your way to the gate. Everything is in order, I assure you.”

I shook my head, frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. “No, everything is not in order. The airport is empty. Where are all the people?”

The little girl stopped her skipping and looked at me, her blue eyes wide and innocent. “They went ahead,” she said matter-of-factly.

I stared at her, confusion washing over me. “Ahead? What do you mean? Where did they go?”

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “They just went ahead. Mommy and Daddy too.”

I turned back to Mr. Darrow, desperate for answers. “What is she talking about? What’s happening here?”

Mr. Darrow’s smile took on a sinister edge. “All will be revealed in due time, Mr. Marshall. For now, why don’t you have a seat? Your flight will be boarding shortly.”

I stared at Mr. Darrow, my mind reeling. None of this made any sense. The empty airport, the mysterious little girl, and now this insistence on boarding a flight that couldn’t possibly be real.

“I’m not getting on that plane,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “This is insane. I demand an explanation.”

Mr. Darrow’s smile never faltered. “Mr. Marshall, I assure you, everything is as it should be. Your flight is ready, and we mustn’t delay.”

The little girl skipped over to me, her teddy bear dangling from her hand. She looked up at me with those big, blue eyes. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice sweet and reassuring. “I’ll sit next to you if it makes you feel better.”

I looked down at her, torn between the absurdity of the situation and the strange comfort her presence offered. “I don’t even know your name,” I said softly.

“I’m Lily,” she replied, grinning. “And you’re Ethan. See? We’re friends already.”

She turned and started walking towards the gate, her small steps echoing in the empty space. I watched her go, my feet rooted to the spot.

Mr. Darrow placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “Mr. Marshall, I must insist. You wouldn’t want to miss this flight.”

There was something in his tone, an undercurrent of menace that sent a chill down my spine. I looked at him, searching his face for any hint of malice, but his expression remained pleasant, almost eerily so.

Against my better judgment, I found myself walking towards the gate, my feet moving of their own accord. Lily was already halfway down the jet bridge, her blonde hair bobbing with each step.

As I stepped onto the jet bridge, the atmosphere changed. The air grew colder, a bone-deep chill that seemed to seep into my very core. The lights flickered overhead, casting strange shadows on the walls.

I reached for my phone, desperate for some connection to the outside world, some reassurance that this was all just a bizarre dream. But my pocket was empty. My phone, my lifeline, was gone.

Lily looked back at me, her eyes glinting in the dimness. “Come on, Ethan,” she called, her voice echoing in the confined space. “We don’t want to be late.”

I stepped onto the plane, Lily right behind me. The cabin was empty, the rows of seats stretching out before us like an abandoned theater. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of our footsteps on the carpeted aisle.

Lily bounded past me, her teddy bear swinging from her hand. She plopped down in a window seat, pressing her face against the glass. “Look, Ethan!” she exclaimed, pointing at the tarmac below. “We’re so high up!”

I slid into the aisle seat next to her, my unease growing with each passing moment. This was wrong. Everything about this situation was wrong. But what choice did I have?

The sound of footsteps drew my attention, and I looked up to see Mr. Darrow walking down the aisle, now dressed in a flight attendant’s uniform. He smiled at us, that same unsettling smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Marshall, Lily,” he said, his voice smooth and professional. “I trust you’re comfortable?”

I bit back a retort, the absurdity of his question nearly making me laugh. Comfortable? How could anyone be comfortable in this nightmare?

But Lily just grinned, kicking her feet against the seat in front of her. “I’m great, Mr. Darrow! When do we take off?”

“Soon, my dear. Very soon.” Mr. Darrow turned to me, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Marshall? A drink, perhaps?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Mr. Darrow nodded, then launched into the standard safety demonstration, as if this were just another normal flight.

I tuned him out, my mind racing. What was happening? Where were we going? And why was I the only one who seemed to realize how wrong this all was?

The plane began to move, the engines roaring to life. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles turning white. Lily clapped her hands, her face lit up with excitement.

As we lifted off, the atmosphere in the cabin began to change. The air grew colder, a strange mist seeping in from the vents. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

I glanced at the monitor in the seatback in front of me, hoping for some distraction, some escape from the growing sense of dread. But what I saw only intensified my fear.

The screen flickered, static obscuring the image. But through the haze, I could make out the outline of a hospital room. It was futuristic, all gleaming metal and blinking lights. But there was something else, something darker.

Shadowy figures moved across the screen, their movements jerky and unnatural. I couldn’t quite make out what they were doing, but the images filled me with a deep, primal terror.

I tore my gaze away from the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. Lily was staring at her own monitor, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“Lily,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Lily, look at me.”

She turned to me, her face pale in the flickering light. “Ethan,” she said, her voice small and frightened. “I don’t like this. I want to go home.”

I reached out and took her hand, trying to offer some comfort even as my own fear threatened to overwhelm me. “I know, Lily. I know. We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll find a way out of this.”

But even as I spoke the words, I couldn’t quite believe them. The plane continued to climb, the strange visions on the monitors growing more vivid, more horrifying with each passing moment.

And for the first time in my life, I felt true, bone-deep fear. The kind of fear that comes from the realization that you’re utterly powerless, that you’re at the mercy of forces beyond your control.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the nightmarish images, trying to hold onto some shred of sanity. But deep down, I knew that this was only the beginning. That whatever lay ahead, it would test me in ways I had never been tested before.

The lights in the cabin flickered, then dimmed, plunging the plane into an eerie twilight. The screens in front of us came to life, casting a sickly glow across the empty seats. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the monitor, transfixed by the horrific scene unfolding before me.

A face appeared on the screen, and with a jolt of terror, I realized it was my own. But there was something wrong, something twisted and evil in the expression. This version of me was cold, calculating, a cruel smile playing across his lips.

He was in a laboratory, surrounded by gleaming instruments and machines. And there, strapped to a table, was a person. I watched in horror as my doppelganger began to experiment, his actions precise and methodical, yet utterly devoid of compassion.

The camera panned across the room, revealing more victims, each in various stages of torment. And then I saw her. Lily. She was huddled in a corner, her small body shaking with sobs. Her cries echoed through the speakers, a haunting soundtrack to the nightmare unfolding on the screen.

I turned to the real Lily, desperate to reassure her, to tell her that this wasn’t real. But the words died in my throat. Her face had changed, the youthful innocence replaced by a pallor of rage and anger. Her eyes, once sparkling with curiosity, now glinted with a darkness that chilled me to my core.

“Lily,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What’s happening?”

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I spun around to see Mr. Darrow looming over me. His smile was gone, replaced by a look of grim satisfaction.

“Are you starting to understand, Mr. Marshall?” he asked, his voice low and menacing. “Do you see the truth now?”

I shook my head, trying to deny the horrific images, trying to cling to some shred of sanity.

I stared at the monitor, the images searing into my mind. Mr. Darrow’s grip on my shoulder tightened, forcing me to confront the truth that I had tried so desperately to deny.

And then, like a dam bursting, the memories flooded back. Years of experiments, decades of research, all focused on one goal: creating the perfect virus. Not to save lives, but to end them. Efficiently. Mercilessly.

I remembered the countless hours in the lab, the test subjects, the failed attempts. And then, the breakthrough. Lily. Her small body strapped to the table, her screams echoing off the sterile walls. The virus I extracted from her, the one that would change everything.

I turned to Lily, seeing her now not as the innocent child I had met on the plane, but as the victim of my own twisted ambition. Her rage pierced through me, a searing indictment of the monster I had become.

“Your virus,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anger and grief. “It took my parents. It took everyone I loved.”

The weight of her words crashed over me, the full horror of what I had done finally sinking in. I had created a weapon, a plague that had swept across the world, leaving devastation in its wake. And I had done it all in the name of science, of progress, of my own insatiable ego.

Mr. Darrow’s voice cut through my thoughts, his tone cold and calculated. “You have a choice, Mr. Marshall. A luxury you never afforded your victims.”

I looked at him, my eyes wide with fear and confusion. A choice? What choice could there possibly be, in the face of such unimaginable evil?

But as I stared into Mr. Darrow’s eyes, I saw something there, a glimmer of something that might have been mercy, or perhaps just cruel amusement. He was offering me a chance, a way out of this nightmare.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry with fear. What would I have to do, to earn this chance? What price would I have to pay, to atone for the sins of my past?

I looked back at Lily, at the anger and pain etched into her young face. I had done this to her, to countless others. And now, I had to face the consequences.

Mr. Darrow leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “Listen carefully, Mr. Marshall. I’m about to give you a choice, it’s more than you ever gave your victims.”

I stared at Mr. Darrow, my mind reeling from the horrific choices he had laid before me. Eternal damnation. That’s what it came down to. A punishment for my sins, for the unspeakable atrocities I had committed in the name of science.

The first option sent a shiver down my spine. An eternal journey towards the sun, strapped into my seat, enduring the searing pain as the plane flew closer and closer to the scorching heat. I could almost feel it already, the blistering of my skin, the agony that would consume me. And yet, death would never come. It would be an endless cycle of torment, of burning and healing, burning and healing, for all eternity.

But the second option… it was almost worse. To be forced to relive the suffering of my victims, to experience their pain and terror firsthand. And then, the twisted nightmare of having to inflict those same horrors upon them, again and again, for all eternity. The blood on my hands, the screams echoing in my ears, the light fading from their eyes… and knowing that I was the cause of their unending torment. It was a psychological hell, a torture that went beyond the physical, straight to the very core of my being.

I looked at Lily, at the anger and pain etched into her young face. She had suffered because of me, because of my insatiable ambition and ego. And now, I had to choose. Choose how I would pay for my sins, how I would face the consequences of my actions.

Mr. Darrow watched me, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. He knew the weight of this decision, the horror of the choices before me. And yet, he offered no comfort, no mercy. Only the cold, hard truth of what I had done, and the price I would have to pay.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, trying to find some shred of courage in the face of such unimaginable terror. But there was none to be found. Only the sickening realization of what I had become, and the inescapable fate that awaited me.