text:  
  
  You limp along for a few feet, then dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any particular attention.
  
  
  You buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend’s parents. Then it’s too hot, so you stuff it into your bag--your bright red bag. After checking your surroundings, you limp over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you’re a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.
  
  
  Holy damn, your ankle hurts. Every pulse of pain reminds you that this is real.
  
  
  Suddenly you see them. Two...things. They’re about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards.
  
  
  And no one notices.
  
  
  People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.  
  
  
  The goblin’s eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator’s, but shorter--are twitching. They’re sniffing for you.
  
  
  You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you’ve put on.
  
  
  But when you peek again, they’ve passed by.
  
  
  You pull off the sweater under your sweatshirt and manage to yank it off through the neck.
  
  
  Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.
  
  
  You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin slowly following them, dragging your sore ankle as you walk toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.
  
  
  As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.
  
  
  You turn. There are creatures behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.
  
  
  You hurry down the escalator, biting back your yelps of pain. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you(or if they do, that you can hop out before they do) or turn and fight?  
  
  
   
  > You fight, despite the ankle.
   
  
  Okay, what will you use as a weapon? You have your new tote bag, (which, despite being soft on the outside, is pretty heavy with a phone, bottle of water, and iPad). Also, there is a wheelchair that has been left at the foot of the escalator.
  > You bash with bag.
   
  
  Yeah, heavy or not, it’s still just a bag, and there are two of them. You manage to hit one, and he seems to get dizzy. The other bites you, and you go down. No one notices you dying.