Infamous Goose
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Arcane Dawn Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 23:30:29 +0000 UTCThere was little less fun, in Marcus’ opinion, than running through the airport to catch a plane that was already leaving. He and his brother sprinted through the airport, their travel bags slung over their shoulders, shoes slapping against slick tile floors, and muttering apologies as they pushed through the crowds surrounding their gate, all in the vain hope of catching their flight.
Fate had worked against them.
After their flight from Rome was delayed by nearly three hours – far beyond the planned two-and-a-half hour layover they’d had in Atlanta – neither one of them had thought they’d be able to catch their next flight. That is until they landed and they’d found out their flight home had been delayed as well.
Which led to this mad sprint through the airport, past all the security and whatnot they’d needed to get through, only to reach their gate and be forced to watch through tall glass windows as their plane taxied away from the gate. Marcus cursed under his breath, letting his bag fall from his shoulder as he checked his watch; a nice analog thing that he bought for himself for college graduation a few years back. 4:32.
“Two minutes. We were two minutes late.” He cursed again, pinching the bridge of his nose while his brother, Arthur, glared at the plane.
“I really thought we’d make it.” Arthur muttered, letting his own bag fall from his shoulder to hang limply in his hand. “I really hoped we’d make it.”
“I didn’t want to have to spend the night in a hotel.” Marcus added, Arthur nodding along. They’d been travelling for hours by now. All he really wanted was to wash off some of the travel grime and sleep in his own bed. Their week-long Italian vacation had been fun, but by this point he was just ready to get home.
“Maybe we won’t. Depends on when the next flight to Denver is – when the next flight they’ll get us on is. What time is it?” Arthur asked, never taking his eyes off the plane as it pulled away, towards the runway. Marcus glanced at his watch again despite having just looked at it.
“Four-thirty three.” He said. “I can’t imagine there won’t be any more flights today.” His brother nodded absently in agreement, setting his bag fully down next to Marcus and looking about.
“I’m going to see if I can’t find someone to direct us, see where we need to go, what we need to do to get our flight changed.” He spoke mostly to himself rather than Marcus as he started to wander off, his brother shaking his head a little as he pulled out his phone – an android, not an apple like heathens used – checking it for any messages. Might be a good idea to call the family, give them an update. Rather than leave their vehicles at the Denver airport and spend all that extra money on parking, they just had their parents drop them off and pick them up. A week in Italy was expensive enough, they didn’t need to rack up any other avoidable expenses on top of that.
He tapped in the number, looking out the window, watching their plane as it pulled towards the runway. His mother answered on the third ring.
“Hello? Marcus? You two landed ok?” She asked, clear concern in her voice. He assured her they had and explained the situation to her, promising to contact her the moment he knew when and what time their next flight would be, pacing back and forth in front of the wall of windows as he was. A few other people filed into the gate in what he assumed was preparation for the next flight; an old woman who was more wrinkle than woman, a man with a tie-dyed shirt and hair down to his shoulders, and a small family with two teenage kids.
“Yep. Just running a little late and pretty annoyed about it. Art is looking into flight changes now, I’ll let you know when we know more but for now it’s a toss up. We may spend the night, we may be taking a late flight.” He explained, lifting his legs a little to get any remaining stiffness out of them. Even after the run, he still felt a little sore and cramped from being on the plane for so long.
“Ok, just keep us in the loop. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nope. Thanks though. I’ll text or call when we know more; love you.”
“Love you too.” And with a click, Marcus hung up, staring out the glass windows blankly. Off on the runway, it looked like their plane was beginning to taxi, turning to takeoff. At least, he figured it was their plane. He imagined it was as it accelerated, lifting into the air, taunting him with how it was headed for home and he was stuck here for god-knew-how long.
Then it happened. There was no warning, no flash of light, no sudden burst of power or roar. One moment the lights were on, people chattering, text scrolling across the electric screens telling everyone when the next flight would be. Then they weren’t. The constant buzz of modern civilization – people talking, lights buzzing and blinking, escalators humming as they moved – fell silent in the blink of an eye.
And in the ensuing silence, planes fell from the sky.
Marcus watched in horror as their plane, the plane he had just been imagining taking him home, hurtled to the ground; too high to survive, too low to properly glide. It disappeared behind part of the airport so he didn’t see it land.
He heard it though. It was muffled and distant, but nonetheless was a sound that rattled him to the bone. He had almost been on that plane. He had almost been on that plane.
Muttered groans and cries of protest rang out as people began to notice the power had gone out, and Marcus turned his gaze to perhaps the only other person who had noticed the crash. A man with slicked black hair, his eyes as wide and fearful as his own, mouth slightly agape. They needed to do something. He needed to do something. Surely they weren’t the only ones who had noticed, right?
But if they had been the only ones to notice the first crash, no one missed the second.
The entire terminal rattled as an entire section was shorn away in a horrendous screech of metal and glass. Marcus stumbled and threw himself to the ground, shielding his head with his hands, screams tearing through the air along with the roaring destruction. He didn’t wait for the rattling to stop to look up, cracks running along the window in front of him as he rolled over, stomach sinking as he beheld the destruction before him.
What remained of that part of the terminal was a mass of steel and fire, people screaming and fleeing from the wreckage. Marcus shot to his feet, panic setting his stomach to twisting uncomfortably in his gut as he searched for his brother.
He was still beside the gate, holding steady by gripping the podium and staring wide-eyed at Marcus. The relief he felt at seeing his brother was ok was fleeting as he turned back toward the destruction. One man was screaming, rolling on the ground and gripping his leg in pain, something sticking out of his calf. A few other people were starting to move toward the twisted metal, others crawling away from it. Most had stopped running, though, an echoing murmur underlying the screams and panic that filled the air. Marcus coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, smoke starting to burn his throat as Arthur started pushing his way toward him, pale-faced.
“Mark,”
“Art,” they said at the same time. “Are you ok?” Arthur and Marcus nodded, glancing at the wreckage.
“Should we help?” Marcus asked, though it was only a token question. When it came to fight or flight, he typically thought of himself as a fighter. But right now? All he wanted to do was run.
“There are others better suited to that.” Arthur said weakly, which was true. Marcus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scooping up his brother’s bag and handing it to him. “Did you see what happened?”
“Everything just shut off.” He said weakly, pulling out his phone to check it. The screen remained black, and his stomach dropped even further. A quick check on his watch showed it still ticking along. It read 4:36. The only think working is my watch, which doesn’t use a battery. “Phone’s not working. Shit, was this an EMP?”
“Shit.” Arthur looked over his shoulder at the wreckage, then look out the window behind Marcus. His expression paled even further and Marcus turned, just in time to watch another plane come gliding over the airport proper, disappearing behind the buildings. “Fuck.”
“We need to get out of here.” Marcus said, fist tightening around his bag’s strap, his stomach dropping harder than it ever had before, in his entire life. White-hot adrenaline shot through his veins, demanding he run. He met Arthur’s eyes and saw the same urgency and fear he felt in them; the two nodded and, through the chaos and panic of the entire airport, began to run.
