It all eventually ends, but not in a way that is particularly satisfying or meaningful. Cutting to the chase, I found the novel pointless and normally would never have finished it -- if it wasn't about an airport that I know like the back of my hand. And the author seems to know it pretty well also, except for the strange decision to describe massive windows everywhere (a mistake also featured in the cover -- which looks more like Detroit). After all, the one very defining characteristic of ATL (and indeed ATL's most terrifying characteristic under normal circumstances) is its lack of windows. It is a terribly claustrophobic airport. For some reason, while Alsaid spends a lot of effort making up terrors, he skips past the one that is inherent to the airport -- the lack of windows.
So, why did I read a book I hated so much? At first, I enjoyed all the details and the pleasure of recognizing the landmarks. Throughout, I occasionally enjoyed the clever in-jokes ("fresh" sandwiches and salads, that SkyClub takeover, the patchy airport WiFi, etc.). As we raced through larger and larger catastrophes, I kept hoping the pointless violence and high body count would amount to some sort of clever ending, but it never comes. Alsaid proudly calls this a "weird trip of a book" but you need something more than weirdness to create a book worth reading. And this flat out fails to deliver.