Chapter 33 Panic Setting In

Shachiku swallowed hard, stepping over a puddle of viscous, half-crystallized blood.

  "Yeah, well, I’m not sticking around to experience it firsthand."

He pointed ahead.

  "Exit up there. Let’s go."

When they finally emerged, the world outside was no less horrifying.

The sky was a sickly violet, choked with swirling ash and the towering, jagged spires of colossal crystal vines that speared through skyscrapers like thorns through rotten fruit. The streets were warped, the asphalt split open by creeping crystalline roots, their surfaces shimmering with the same bloody hue as the tunnel. Abandoned cars sat frozen mid-collision, their metal frames half-consumed by the encroaching growth.

And yet… 

No creatures lunged from the ruins. Only shrieks pierced the air. Only the distant, haunting echoes of something moving just out of sight.

Makiko exhaled sharply. 

"This is bad. Really bad. This is really, really fucking bad! We're walking through a goddamn slaughterhouse that's still digesting its victims! Those things out there turned people into fucking crystal statues and we're just.. just..."

Akarui reached for her shoulder but she jerked away, nearly tripping over a half-dissolved corpse.

 "Don't! Don't fucking touch me! Not here, not—"

Her voice cracked as she kicked at a shard of red crystal, sending it skittering into the darkness where it echoed like a gunshot. The responding chorus of distant screeches made her flinch.

Shachiku tried to calm her—"Makiko, breathe—"

"BREATHE?!" She laughed, high and unsteady, hands clawing at her own arms through her jacket. 

"We're dead. We're already dead and we just don't know it yet. That—that bitch in the lab coat is giving us a goddamn TED Talk while the walls eat people alive—"

Ichiban remained eerily still. The silence stretched a beat too long before she finally said, quiet as a scalpel sliding between ribs.

"Panicking won't un-crystallize them. But it might attract what did."

Makiko's mouth snapped shut. Somewhere deep in the ruins, something scraped against metal.

Shujinko stepped between them, hands raised.

 "We need to move. Now. We can't stay in one place too long. These things, they might change their minds and go after us. And I don't want to see them try."

Shachiku adjusted his grip on his briefcase, forcing a grin to lighten the mood. 

"On the bright side? No traffic."

Akarui ignored him, scanning the horizon.

  "The airport not too far now. If we’re lucky, the birds are still intact."

"And if we’re not lucky?" Shujinko asked.

Shachiku clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Then we die screaming. But let’s focus on the first option, yeah?"

With no other choice, they moved—quick, quiet, and painfully aware of the things watching from the dark.

The small regional airport was in ruins when they arrived. The runway was littered with debris, and the terminal building had been partially crushed by a massive crystalline vine that had erupted from the ground. Despite the destruction, there were signs of recent activity—tire tracks, scattered luggage, and the distant sound of voices.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who had this idea. Which means, if there’s a working plane left, we’re not the only ones who’ll be fighting for it.” Shujinko said.

Ichiban's eyes narrowed slightly as she whispered to herself, "Well, that simply won't do." 

As they approached the runway, they saw a group of people board a small plane. The scene at the runway was pure chaos—a frenzied scramble of humanity's last gasp for survival. A battered Cessna sat on the cracked tarmac, its engines already whining at takeoff RPM as a mob of terrified civilians fought like animals to board.

"LET US IN, YOU COWARDS!" screamed a man in a torn business suit, bloody fists pounding against the sealed cabin door. Inside, a woman with wild eyes shoved back against the press of bodies trying to force their way in.

Shujinko watched in horror as a teenager was thrown from the boarding steps, landing hard on the asphalt. An elderly couple got trampled underfoot. Then—a gunshot. The businessman collapsed, clutching his leg as the plane's door slammed shut.

The engines roared. The Cessna lurched forward, its wheels crushing an abandoned suitcase full of family photos as it accelerated. Through the windows, they could see passengers wrestling with seatbelts, a child's face pressed against the glass—

—just as the first crystalline spike erupted through the runway.

The ground exploded upward in a shower of asphalt and red shards. A vine thick as a redwood trunk speared through the plane's left wing, sending it cartwheeling across the tarmac in a shower of sparks and jet fuel.

The explosion sent a fireball rolling across the runway. The businessman who'd been shot crawled desperately away, only for a secondary vine to burst from the ground and impale him mid-scream. The elderly couple disappeared under a rain of burning debris.

Makiko ducked as a spinning propeller blade embedded itself in the terminal wall beside her head. 

"Jesus Christ—"

But then, without warning, even bigger crystalline vine burst from the ground, its crystal form slamming into the remains of the plane with terrifying force. What was left of the aircraft was lifted into the air before being impaled and torn apart, the sound of metal screeching and fuel igniting echoing across the tarmac. The group watched in horror as the plane exploded, debris raining down around them.

Then the vines moved. They lashed out like serpents, snatching survivors off the ground—some were crushed instantly, others shrieked as the crystalline spikes slowly pierced their bodies, their forms already beginning to glitter with the telltale infection.

“We're not getting out of here in a plane," Makiko choked out, "That was it—that was our shot, and now it's just—just fucking confetti raining down on us! So what now, huh? What's the brilliant backup plan? Because I don't see any more planes just parked around here! We're trapped in this—this monster's fucking playground with no way out, and those things in the ground? They're just waiting for us to try again!"

She kicked a chunk of twisted metal, sending it clattering across the runway.

"We're dead. We're already dead, we just haven't stopped moving yet!” 

Shachiku shrugged, his eyes fixed on Makiko.

“Calm down. We’re not looking for a commercial flight. We need something smaller, something we can use to get to the ocean.”

Akarui spoke up.

“My dad used to bring me here. Not the commercial terminals. The private hangars on the east side—where the corporate jets and choppers dock. There’s a private hangar on the east side. If we’re lucky, there might still be a plane or a helicopter there. He'd let me sit in the pilot's seat of his Bell 407 when I was a kid. Showed me the controls. Even let me hover once or twice when I was old enough."

 A ghost of a smile touched his lips—there and gone.

"Dad said I had the hands for it."

Shujinko blinked in surprise.

  "Wait, you can fly?"

"Enough to get us off the ground. If the choppers are still there. If they're fueled. If nothing's grown through them. Then yes."

Makiko let out a shaky breath, some of the panic receding from her expression.

  "But it's a chance. A real one."

Shachiku hefted his briefcase, already scanning the perimeter. 

"East side, huh? Then we'd better move before the ground gets hungry again."

Shujinko nodded.

“Let’s head there. It’s our best shot.”

Somewhere beneath them, the crystals pulsed—slow, patient.
But not for long.

The airport was a scene of devastation. The main terminal was partially collapsed, its glass walls shattered, and its interior overrun with crystalline vines. The runways were cracked and uneven, with crystal formations jutting out of the ground like grotesque sculptures. The group parked the car and approached cautiously, their eyes scanning for any signs of life—or danger.

As they neared the private hangar, they heard the roar of an engine. A small plane was taxiing down the runway, its propellers spinning as it prepared for takeoff. A group of desperate civilians stood nearby, waving frantically at the pilot.

“Look, more people trying to escape,” Makiko said.

But before the plane could lift off, a massive crystalline vine erupted from the ground, its tip slamming into the aircraft’s wing. The plane veered sharply, its engines screaming as it skidded across the runway. Another vine shot up, impaling and tearing the plane apart in a fiery explosion.