DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

What am I doing with my life? I'm so pale. I should get out more. I should eat better. My posture is terrible, I should straighten up. People would respect me more if I stood up straighter.
What's wrong with me? I just want to connect. WHY CAN'T I CONNECT WITH PEOPLE? Oh, right. It's because I'm dead.

I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I mean. We're all dead.People shuffled around with me with blank stares and gruesome blood on their clothes and mouths. They gave me a slight glance, as if to say : What are you looking at?

That girl's dead. He's dead. I thought. That guy over on the bench - he's definitely dead. These guys look awful.

I wish I could introduce myself, but I don't remember my name anymore. I mean... I think it started with R, but that's all. I can't remember my name, or my parents or my job-although my red hoodie would suggest I was unemployed.

As I limped through the walking corpses, a guy with a metal detector flashed me up and down. That's all he ever does. Sometimes I look at the others and try to imagine what they might of been.

That woman over there pushing an empty pram - the blood splattered on the seat, rattle shaking on it's own accord - was a mother. Now she's a walking corpse. Like the rest of us.

The dead man lying on the airport bag carousel was a rich son of the cooperate CEO. Another woman shuffling along in the crowd with a sports uniform on - was a personal trainer.

I have a hard time piecing together how this whole apocalypse thing happened. It could have been a chemical warfare, or an airborne virus. Or a rabid monkey. But it doesn't really matter because this is what we are now.

This is a typical day for me. Shuffling on the crowds of rotting corpses that look as if they hadn't fed on human in months. I move around, occasionally bumping into people, but unable to apologize. Or say much of anything.

It must have been so much better before, when people could communicate and express their feeling and emotions to one another...

A lot of us have made it our home here at the airport, though we don't really know why. Or where we're going, just that we know this place. Sort of. I mean... People wait at airports, sure I guess, but, what are we waiting for?

I slipped in another hallway, where fluorescent lights flickered, causing shadows to loom and darken. That was when I saw them. Bonies. Oh man. We call these guys bonies. They don't bother us much, cause we're dead. But they'll eat anything with a heartbeat. I mean, I will too, but at least I'm conflicted about it. The black skin on the skeleton rippled and squirmed. It was black and shiny like twigs in a campfire. There was nothing a a skeleton with blackened flesh and a deadly wail now.
We all turn into then some ay. At some point you just give up, I guess. A man sat upright against the wall, a pefect example. his eyes were black around the outside where the sockets would be and he looked dead. Deader than dead. Bonie dead. You just lose all hope. After that there's no turning back.

The man brought his hand to his face and picked at the pale skin to reveal snippets of blackened flesh and rippled tones. Oh man, that's gross. Stop, stop! Your making it worse.

Ahh! This is what I have to look forward to. That's kind of a bummer.

I don't wanna be this way. I'm lonely, and lost. No seriously I'm lost I've never been to this part of the airport before.

Eventually, I found a familiar area where I saw my best friend. And by best friend I mean the occasional grunt and stare awkwardly at each other. We even have almost conversations sometimes.

"grrraaahhhhhhnnnn" We both mumble, almost the only coherent thing possible to say.

Days pass this way.

"hooooooonnnnnnnnn" he grunted. I started at him. Man, he's a chatterbox.

But sometimes, we even find the actual words. I lent over, "Hungry," I whispered.

He lent towards me. "City."

After an exchange of glances, I left for the outskirts of the city, my best friend soon following behind.