Chapter Text
Yang’s POV
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 stand up straighter.
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. This girl is dead.
That guy's dead. That guy in the corner is definitely dead.
Jesus, 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 a "Y", but that's all I have left. I can't remember my name, my family, or my job. Although my hoodie would suggest I was unemployed.
l continue to walk around. Sometimes I look at the others and try to imagine what they were. You were a janitor. You were the rich son of a corporate CEO. You were a personal trainer. And now you're a Corpse.
I have a hard time piecing together how this whole apocalypse thing happened. Could have been chemical warfare or an airborne virus, or a radioactive monkey. But it doesn't matter. This is what we are now.
This is a typical day for me. I shuffle around occasionally bumping into people, unable to apologize or say much of anything. It must have been so much better before when everyone could express themselves, communicate their feelings and just enjoy each other's company. A lot of us have made our home here at this airport. I don't know why. People wait at airports, I guess, but I'm not sure what we're all waiting for.
Oh, man. l think as I see a crouching skeleton. They call these guys Boneys. They don't bother us much. But they'll eat anything with a heartbeat. I mean, I will too, but at least I'm conflicted about it. We all become them someday. At some point you just give up, I guess. You lose all hope.
After that, there's no turning back. I turn to look at a guy sitting on the floor picking at his face starting the process of becoming a boney. Oh, man, gross. Stop. Stop, don't pick at it! You're making it worse! Oh,
this is what I have to look forward to.
It's kind of a bummer. I don't want to be this way. I'm lonely. I'm lost.
I mean, I'm literally lost. I've never been to this part of the airport before.
Wonder if these guys are lost, too.
Wandering around but never getting anywhere. Do they feel trapped? Do they want more than this? Am I the only one?
l walk towards a counter and sit on one of the available bar stools right next to a kid maybe younger than me, they have hair unlike anyone else in the airport it has two colors in it, but l don't remember what the names of them are, l don't remember much nowadays.
This is my best friend. By best friend, I mean we occasionally grunt and stare awkwardly at each other. We even have almost-conversations sometimes. Days pass this way. But sometimes we even find actual words. Words like...Hungry. And...City.
Even though we can't communicate we do share a similar taste in food.
Traveling in packs just kind of makes sense, especially when everyone and their grandmother is trying to shoot you in the head all the time.
God, we move slow. l think as l shuffle around streets and alleyways. This could take a while.