March 18th

Gabriel wanted to travel the world, now that time was not a factor in his life. Wound up in a plastic bag, his bones broken in all the right places so he could fit into a suitcase, was not how he expected to travel.

He still could not travel during the day, and even if he miraculously could within the next few minutes, Carlos would not ever trust him to be left alone because Gabriel would devour anyone who stood within a few feet of him, like a group of tourists at a Chinese buffet.

Carlos gripped the suitcase that held his ward. It was tied with several ropes, with several locks, and Carlos wasn’t sure it would hold. He dropped it onto the bed as it started to shake. It vibrated and clattered all over the bed, an incoming call, and Carlos did not want to pick up.

“Gabriel, please, ” Carlos pleaded.

The vibrations increased, shaking the bed, loosening the comforter sheets, and Carlos’s head pounded as Gabriel attempted to make another connecting call. It would not work. Carlos had taken Momo’s warning seriously and was cutting him off.

It wasn’t cold turkey but was a lot less than before, and Gabriel was not handling it well. Gabriel couldn’t handle being alone, he couldn’t handle not being medicated, because he couldn’t pretend anymore. He liked to think that he was better than his siblings since he no longer pretended, but he did it in his own way.

Carlos was having the time of his life.

For the first time in centuries, his thoughts were his own.

Giving Gabriel just a little bit of blood made the connection weak enough that Carlos could have his space, in his head, no voices, no one asking him where he is, what he was doing, the weather, his favorite color, his favorite smell, and on and on and on the questions would go because eternity was so much longer than anticipated, his siblings needing anything to talk about.

The caveat to all of this was that Gabriel was much more unhinged than ever before.

Carlos picked up the suitcase, still vibrating and shaking as Gabriel tried to get free, his hunger never abated. Carlos knew it would be a hard transition for Gabriel, but he never thought it would be such an easy one for himself. A pang of guilt overcame him as Gabriel screamed from inside his trap, but the guilt was gone once Carlos stepped into the sunlight, basking in its warm glow on his skin.

It was the most exciting day of his afterlife, as Carlos drove to the airport, thinking, and no one answered back. He giggled like a maniac as Gabriel screamed in the back trunk, swearing that the moment he broke free he would kill him.

Carlos knew he couldn’t do a thing.

Carlos traveled during the day to make sure that he couldn’t do anything because Gabriel, like all creatures alive or un-dead, was more focused on staying alive and as much as Gabriel bragged and jeered, he would not risk sunlight and death for food.

Or would he?

Carlos arrived at the hotel parking garage four hours earlier than the time of departure, because somehow if one arrived an hour earlier they always missed their flight. It was nine AM the dim green yet somehow white flickering lights made him queasy, the parking lot akin to the setting of a slasher film.

The pit in his stomach grew as he got out of his car and saw the hood was frozen over. Loud thumps could be heard from the inside of the trunk, and a small crack appeared, right on the right hood light.

It shattered into hundreds of glittering pieces, and out came Gabriel’s head, screaming and drooling at the mouth. A bloody ring dripped down his head, and the top of his head was frozen solid, used as a battering ram to push through the many layers of trash bags, thick suitcases, and car trunk.

“Carlos, give me your blood,” Gabriel screeched.

Carlos rolled his eyes as Gabriel continued to scream in the parking lot, and nervous people entering and leaving the garage were unsure of who to call the police on. Carlos tried ignoring his tantrum, pretending that it wasn’t happening, like an exasperated young mother at a grocery store, but it wasn’t working.

Gabriel wanted it, and he wanted it now.

Carlos sat on the trunk to try and keep him locked inside, but this made a man two rows over terrified and he got out his phone to call the authorities. Gabriel craned his neck to the side, snapping his teeth like a belligerent turtle, the jagged pieces cutting into his neck, again almost killing himself for another high.

Carlos prayed that Momo would show on time and she had.

Momo’s long pink and black alternating hair was pulled up into a bun. She wore sunglasses to hide her sharp red eyes, and as usual, she wore all black, because it was so easy to get dressed when everything matched. Black flip flops, white and black striped shirt, black shorts, and her toenails and fingers painted to match of course. Her luggage was just a guitar, a few necessary items in a backpack, and a suitcase filled to the brim with clothes.

She arrived to see a group of meatsuits harassing Carlos about why there was a bloody young man in his trunk, which wasn’t a weird question considering the already bizarre circumstances. The meatsuits however, did not like his answers.

“This is a person, not a threat,” a woman screamed.

Gabriel let out an unearthly scream and blood poured out of his eyes.

“Please stay back, you don’t understand,” Carlos replied.

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“He needs a doctor,” a man shouted.

“I need blood,” Gabriel rasped.

Momo pushed aside a woman and her small dog inside her large and fake designer purse and groaned at the sight of it all.

“Get off the trunk, Father,” she groaned.

Sheepishly Carlos got off the trunk of the car, and it swung open, Gabriel’s bloodlust the only deciding factor in his movements. Something about the look in his eyes, the sudden movement, and the broken trunk door made the concerned citizens realize that Carlos was telling the truth.

In one swift movement, Momo and Carlos grabbed onto him, the screaming and bloody mess. His head shook so fast, it was just a red blur, his blood spraying over the crowd and they screamed in terror, his shrieks louder than theirs.

Momo grabbed him by the brown mop on his head, no longer neat, and gently pulled. His entire body went slack as the well-meaning citizens ran off in terror. Momo let go, and Carlos gently carried him towards the side of the car, wondering how they would get into the airport now.

Momo wiped the blood off of her sunglasses onto her stained black and white shirt and came up with an idea.

First, much to Carlos’s disdain, she opened up her suitcase, changed in broad daylight, unashamed, calling more attention to them, all the while sighing as if it were some sort of chore.

Next, she emptied the entire suitcase onto the pavement, and they methodically snapped the various parts of his body, stuffing it back into the suitcase, putting his head at an awkward angle so it would be near impossible for it to heal while inside the luggage.

Now in a black sundress, Momo glanced at Carlos and scolded him.

“You’re aware this is all your fault, right?”

“Please let’s go, I saw a few of them call the police,” Carlos groaned.

So they walked fast, but not too fast so as to not call attention to themselves through the airport's obscenely vast hallways and layout.

Tall, oblong, curved windows graced the walls of the airport, and Carlos wondered how it still could be so chaotic when planes were rarely used, and why it was still called an airport. People still said “hang up”, even though there was nothing to hang up when ending a call, and he figured that some things just stuck around out of habit.

The suitcase’s little wheels spun and spun, trying to keep up with Momo and Carlos as they briskly walked through the crowds of people, rush hour at the airport in full swing. There was a lot less security at airports than in the past, and the act of bombing was wholly removed from in-air flights because there were so few. People stood in line, funneling towards which sector they wanted to go to, buying tickets at kiosks, almost every part completely automated except for the aspect of transportation.

Carlos and Momo pressed themselves into the thronging mass of sweat, meat, and clothed flesh as they got into the line that said Western Sector, and stood, and stood, and stood, and stood until it moved, and then stood some more, and then went into Room #34.

Calling these cavernous places rooms was disingenuous at best.

At the top of the room was a platform holding people, all teleporters, in airport uniforms, with the customer service smile plastered on, even though the customers were too far below to see it. Without hesitation, the group took a deep sigh, and their eyes flashed a myriad of rainbow colors.

They took each other's hands, and a robotic beep went off, the signal that everyone should be prepared for the sudden jump.

Another beep went off, this one louder than the first, and the process was complete.

Momo, Carlos, and an unconscious Gabriel stuffed into carry-on luggage like a murder victim, left the airport with the other travelers, in the blink of an eye, the magic of modern, well, magic.

Carlos wondered when he became so accustomed to the many changes around him that everything started to blend in together. He wondered if it was the same for his older siblings when they were alive the year he was born, the years blurred together like paint on a canvas, the singular second of when they jumped from Florence to Topeka no different than two hundred years.

Momo and Carlos rode the bus on the hyper way out of Topeka and into Stull, in block thirty-four, in what was formerly known as Kansas. Momo let out another groan as they arrived at the small town. She expected something easy, but life or the afterlife was never easy.

Florence was eight hours ahead, and by the time they had arrived at Stull, it was two AM in the morning, local time. Yet somehow, the quaint town was bustling alive with energy, people in costumes, police cars whoop whooping, shirtless men screaming, fanatics in black robes screaming about the coming of their lord and savior.

“Father, you’re telling me this place has a portal to Hell,” Momo asked.

“I overheard them talking about it at the monastery, and I decided to come as well. They didn’t want us coming with them, calling us a liability, saying we would stick out,” Carlos replied.

“Well, they’re not wrong.”

“Hey! They promised me a cure, and I’m going to get one! We can’t be picked out in this madness anyway!”

He was right.

The police were too preoccupied with the barrier they had created around the local cemetery to worry about a young girl who did not act like one, a priest with a penchant for blood, and a vibrating suitcase.

Stull was having its annual three-day party, the last day being on the Spring Equinox when it was fabled that Satan himself would rise from the cemetery to greet the world. Of course, he never did, but every year ne'er-do-wells, vagrants, and delinquents would use it as an excuse to go try something new during Spring Break.

The residents of Stull were not amused.

Most of them left the entire week, their houses and businesses boarded up, save for a brave few. One of the few places left open was a hotel called The Stullery. Carlos and Momo made their way there, preparing themselves for another strange day among the living.