The board flicked over for the fourth time that afternoon. FLIGHT DELAYED 4:45 PM.

Simone Gallagher sighed as she resigned herself to another lap around Hobart’s airport. She had already used her meal voucher about two and a half hours ago. The cook let out a massive, wet-sounding sneeze, making her think twice about returning for food. She was tired of coffee and croissants. All she wanted now was a Mars Bar. She could almost feel the sugar coursing through her veins at the thought of it.

She glanced out the massive glass windows at the plane. Fuck that plane. It was the very one she should have boarded five hours ago. And yet, here she was, still stuck in Hobart’s fucking boring airport, waiting. She passed by a group of Jewish tourists from New York—or was it New Jersey? She waved at them again in passing.

Simone quit smoking years ago, but moments like these made her crave a cigarette. Instead, she headed for the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t too busy, just how she liked it. She kicked open a stall door, feeling the absurdity of how a simple trip to the restroom could offer a small buzz of excitement. 

She checked her smartwatch, as it counted her steps. 8,762. 

Getting there.

After washing her hands, she dried them off, knowing she’d probably be back in this bathroom at least three more times before boarding. She wandered back out, noticing the crowds milling around. Televisions blared with a rugby league match. She wasn’t much for rugby—AFL was more her style. Even her boredom couldn’t make her care enough to watch it.

There was another lap around the airport. The juice bar caught her eye, particularly the guava juice, but she hesitated. Did she really want to risk having to use the plane bathroom?

She had her holiday. Now she just wanted to go home, show a few snapshots to her coworkers, and forget this delay ever happened.

Simone sat down on a barstool, checking the weather on her watch. Cloudy with the full moon symbol. Sunset at 5:45 PM.

A scratchy announcement broke through the terminal speakers.

“Flight VJ72F from Hobart to Sydney has been cancelled. Please proceed to the main desk for further information and arrangements.”

Simone sighed, grabbed the handle of her chrome-blue travel case, and wheeled it toward the service desk. A line of ten people awaited her, surprisingly shorter than expected. When she finally reached the front, a young woman with the typical airline slicked-back hair greeted her.

“What’s the situation?” Simone asked, fishing for her boarding pass.

“All the accommodation in Hobart seems to be booked. We can get you on the first flight in the morning, but you’ll need to arrange your own accommodation. We recommend using the Airbnb app on your phone.”

Simone closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The thought of leaving the airport, finding a place, and coming back was exhausting.

Screw it, I’m sleeping in the airport.

She made her way to a quieter section, spotting a few others who had the same idea. She didn’t feel like making small talk, so she found a corner, dropped her backpack, and fluffed it up like a pillow. After taking a sip from her water bottle, she removed her scuffed white Reeboks and neatly placed them to the side. Socks stayed on; the floor was freezing.

She glanced through the enormous glass window. Outside, a vehicle was towing a large steel cage. The driver stopped, pulled back a tarp, and revealed three dogs waiting to be loaded for transport.

Simone drifted off to sleep, praying she wouldn’t wake up fifty times before morning.

—

Simone woke with a start. Something was screaming—or howling. She blinked and looked outside. The full moon shone bright, casting an eerie glow on the few stragglers asleep in the airport. A series of bangs and crashes echoed through the terminal. Oddly, no alarms were going off, and the place seemed deserted except for those awaiting the Hobart-to-Sydney flight.

She checked her watch: it was almost two in the morning.

Another howl.

She remembered the dogs being loaded earlier, but nothing about this noise sounded remotely normal. It was primal—wild.

A man kicked open the door to the handicap restroom. He stumbled out, dripping with sweat. Someone nearby shouted, “Mate, that’s for disabled people, don’t be a jerk!”

The man shook violently, collapsed to the ground, and then… started changing. Wild fur erupted from his skin, his fingernails grew into claws, and his muscles bulged, tearing through his clothes. His face elongated into a muzzle. Fangs appeared.

A woman screamed.

Simone’s first instinct was to grab her bag, but she knew better. She needed to get out. Now. Around her, other passengers were fleeing in all directions.

The wolf-man jumped onto a nearby plant display, howling at the moon. Its silver beams bathed the terminal in an otherworldly glow. Simone hesitated at the women’s restroom but quickly reconsidered. She turned back and saw the beast, standing on a coffee table, its eyes glowing red, saliva dripping from its fangs.

Chaos ensued. A woman, frozen in panic, tried to flee, but the wolfman caught her, dragging her behind a partition. Her screams pierced the air, then abruptly stopped.

Simone ran, dodging past the border control area, vaulting over the car rental counter. She spotted a couple of other travelers and crawled toward them.

“Hi, I’m Simone,” she whispered, offering her hand.

“I’m Ben,” a man said, shaking her hand.

“I’m Catalina,” the woman added.

“We need to get out of here,” Simone whispered. “Grab some keys. We can find a rental car and get help.”

The wolfman, now gnawing on a severed human forearm, spotted them. Its red eyes scanned the terminal as it spat out three rings from the hand, one by one.

Simone motioned for the others to stay low. She clenched the keys tightly between her fingers, ready to strike.

The beast jumped onto the security scanner, marking its territory with blood. Sniffing the air, it locked onto their scent. Simone closed her eyes, mouthing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The wolfman leapt over the counter. Ben muffled Catalina’s scream, but it was too late—the beast heard. Simone sprang into action, stabbing the wolfman in the neck with the keys. It roared, smashing its fists into the wall. Ben and Catalina ran as the beast turned on Simone, catching her next strike mid-air.

Just as it dragged her close, reeking of rot, Ben hurled a suitcase at the wolfman’s head, giving Simone a split second to escape.

—

Simone fled toward the emergency exit, adrenaline pumping. She burst outside into the cold night air. A plane—their flight—was landing on the tarmac, its lights cutting through the darkness. She hid behind a fuel tanker as the wolfman howled in frustration from inside the terminal.

Simone dashed for the stairs as the plane crew descended. Desperate, she ran up, warning the flight crew about the carnage inside the terminal.

“Please, there’s a killer in there. Let me on the plane.”

The pilot nodded grimly and allowed her aboard. But before she could settle in, the wolfman appeared, mauling the flight attendant at the door. Simone bolted for the back of the plane, where the pet transport cage waited. She set her watch alarm on a German shepherd’s collar and unlocked the cage.

When the alarm rang, the wolfman pounced, drawn by the noise. Simone slammed the cage door shut, trapping it. The beast thrashed, howling in rage as airport security arrived.

“What the hell happened here?” the lead guard asked, eyes wide.

Simone, still panting, glanced at the cage. “Whatever that thing is, make sure it flies third class for the rest of its life.”