Suitcase 32

I slammed the door to my car and exiedt in a haste. My boss Jeffrey likes things done quickly, or I might not get paid for this task. Such a fastidious man, Jeffrey was. Always wearing a fancy suit or tie to work at his office on the top floor.

My name is Cornwell. At three o' clock in the morning, I was called by Jeff to drive to the airport I usually work at, the Frazer Downtown Airport. He asked me, a bit too calmly, to retrieve an unchecked baggage, tagged Suitcase 32. I wasn't sure if I heard right, since I was still tired from being woken up so early, but I could almost swear that I heard a deeper man's voice, interrogating Jeffrey.

When Jeff hung up the phone, I got into my car. The airport was a five-minute drive away.

Our airport wasn't the most fanciest or the most attractive-looking one, but it was one of the world's most busiest. At this time, though, it wasn't very packed, with only a few policeman with blue uniforms at the doors. I made a sharp left and approached the Staff Only Door for baggage check-in. With my card, I unlocked the door.

Baggage check-in was humongous. Here at Frazer, it was a colossus of intersecting conveyer belts with assortments of suitcases or duffel bags riding them, to different flights or for inspection. I exited the catwalk and entered the first stairwell I saw. The air was puffy, almost hard to breathe. As I descended lower, I swore I could hear muffled screams, in all directions. But I was probably imagining things, so I dismissed it as another play on my mind.

I entered the room labeled Baggage Inspection and went in. I shivered at the sudden change of temperature; it was freezing cold in here. I sat down on the stool. Suitcase 32 was right in front of me, with zippers dangling with millions of locks. Strangely, all of these were unlocked for me. Curious, I unzipped the bag.

A mangled, bloody hand shot into the air and grasped my wrist. I screamed, very loudly, and kicked the arm away. Another hand returned, this time to hold on to the edge of the suitcase and pull itself up. Really, I wished it never did that.

The face was rotted and pale white, caked in blood. Flesh was pulled apart, revealing stripped muscles and unbroken blood veins. The skull was easily visible, stained with blood, the brain an ash black and shriveled. Its eyes had no pupils; they were milky white and horrifying. The tongue was cut, revealing a black-pink stub of flesh. The throat was ruptured and mutated; beneath the giant bones of the neck you could see the neck bulging, still swallowing, with the chest still hidden in the suitcase.

The head lunged toward my left arm and grazed my forearm with its pointed black teeth before I slugged it in the neck. The humanoid sank back into the suitcase.

That was it. I was pushed past the edge of anger and confusion. Why the hell did Jeff want me to do this? I opened the drawer to my right and pulled out a clean knife, sharp with steel. I was about to exit the room when I spotted my new wound on my arm. I was surprised at how worse it got; it was now pulsing red and clotting.

I exited the inspection room and climbed the stairs back to the terminal. I saw what was happening now; blood on the steps, more frequent screams, torn skin on the ground.

Without knocking I burst into Jeff's office.

That son of a bitch was sitting down casually at his chair, sipping a cup of coffee. He was most surprised to see me, my face contorted into pure anger.

"What the hell was that, Jeff?" I asked furiously, snatching his cup out of his hand and hurling it at the wall.

"What are you talking about, Cornwell?"

"Don't lie to me, Jeff, I saw that thing with my own eyes. That...that horrible thing that attacked me..."

"Cornwell, you are so blind..."

With his words, my face turned into a look of confusion. I was puzzled. "What?"

The air seemed to grow darker with Jeff as his eyes narrowed, a thin smile on his lips. "Cornwell, humankind needs to end."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued. "This is an airport, Cornwell. Airports go to many places. It's a perfect hub to start spreading the cleansing, you know. We're gonna spread this virus to the whole world. Nobody will know."

My mind raced, processing Jeff's insane words. Cleansing? Virus to spread? Humankind's end?

"But we'll start the genocide... with the most dangerously infected individual. I already know who that is."

He reached into his desk and pulled out a small vial and threw it to me. I caught it and read the label.

My mouth dropped open.

The label read, "346VirusStrong-1: RESERVED FOR SUITCASE 32."

I started to feel a little dizzy as my wound grew worse.

Before I could draw my knife, the door burst open with blue-uniformed men, with a bullet through my chest.

(Story by Jezreck)