The Terminal by Amber Fallon

Author:Amber Fallon [Fallon, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Fresh Pulp Press
Published: 2016-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Hold on a second, let me get this straight!” I cried, incredulous. “You want to blow up the terminal?!”

John was hunched over the evacuation map I’d given him, circling things here and there with a worn out old nub of a pencil he’d taken from somewhere, probably that desk we’d moved to block the door. I stalked around behind him, gesturing wildly.

“What?” He looked up at me with an annoyed expression. “You got a better idea?”

“Well, no, but I’m not exactly keen on this whole ‘take down the aliens’ scheme you’ve been hatching. I still think we should scrap this whole idea and head for the hills. How exactly do you plan on blowing up enough of this airport to take a good number of those fuckers out, without killing either of us in the process?”

John’s face grew even more somber. He pointed to one of the locations he’d circled on the map, a tiny square that barely fit within the margins of the page, then raised his hand to point at a decent sized metal shed set back from the tarmac but within the airport fences. I hadn’t even noticed it before.

“That’s a maintenance shed.” he said. “I know December isn’t exactly prime landscaping season, but with any luck, there should be some fertilizer in there.”

“Uh huh?” I asked, not really following him. “And we’re going to plant something to kill the aliens?” Maybe John had suffered a break with reality. Perfect. Trapped in the middle of goddamned Armageddon with a crazy man bent on some kind of gardening related suicide mission.

“No!” John sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to use it to make a bomb.”

“Oh.” I said. “Right.” Like I’d known all along that fertilizer could be used to make bombs. I glanced at the maintenance shed. It was a fairly unassuming building made from sheets of metal and it stood somewhere around football field or so away from us, give or take. While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of alien activity outside, being completely exposed for long enough to get there and back while hauling around sacks of fertilizer was a daunting idea at best. “So we make our way over there and get some fertilizer out of the shed, assuming of course that there is actually fertilizer in that shed to begin with. Then what?” I was trying to point out the flaws in John’s plan. At least, that’s what I told myself I was doing. The truth was actually closer to making excuses to avoid doing something I really didn’t want to be a part of to begin with.

John pointed at an open access way almost directly beneath us. “There should be diesel for the plows and pulley trucks in there, along with propane tanks to power the forklifts. You put those three things together, hook up some kind of detonator and ... BOOM!” He held his hands out, expanding them rapidly to pantomime an explosion. I eyed him skeptically.

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