Chương 31: Carbon Footprint III

Having lived in a dangerous environment for the better part of his life, Gordon has learned to sleep with his one eye open. Metaphorically, of course, but given the series of events that occurred within the past two days, he ought to do that literally.

After all, who would know when a demon would possess someone next to him now that he was on their trail?

He opened an eye to see an empty seat, but before he could wonder where Richard was, he heard sultry moaning and grunting in a nearby closed booth. He stood with a grunt, scanning his surrounding and found it desolate.

"So much for setting a good workplace environment." He muttered, stretching his muscles from its sore complacency. "Why the hell is there food everywhere? Who eats like these?"

Gordon waded through the mountain of chips, eager to get away from the canoodling couple. His footsteps receding from the cabin and entered the galley where the same disgusting food entered his sight, but slowed down once he smelt blood in the air.

He gazed towards the stairs where a male flight attendant, Dante, according to his nametag, walked tiredly down the stairs. Blood stained his blue vest and pants, with some streaking across his face and hand. All dry, Gordon surmised.

"You have a little blood on you." He stated the obvious, breaking the ice the way he knows how. "Did something happen?"

"I-uh, thanks." Dante replied absentmindedly as he wiped the blood off his face. "I just delivered a baby, but it... it died."

Gordon pursed his lips, contemplating his words. "Have they performed the last rites?"

"I don't think they're Christians." Dante shook his head, confusion evident in his expression.

"Doesn't matter what religion as long as the baby gets- you know what, where's the baby?" Gordon held himself from rolling his eyes.

He strode towards the stairs and entered the upper cabin, where he witnessed the crying mother cradling the lifeless body of her newborn babe.

He looked back and saw Dante joining him in the view. "How long has that been going on?"

Dante took a second before he responded, "Maybe an hour or two ago."

"Doesn't the airline know that we have a dead baby on board? When are we gonna land?" Gordon questioned the sanity of these people, restraining himself from rubbing his hands over his head in frustration.

"I don't even know anymore. Last I checked, we were cleared in Minnesota, but we're still heading straight to Cali." Dante expressed his frustration.

"Calm yourself." Gordon ordered sternly. The last thing he needed was excess energy being siphoned off by the corpse. "I need you to get a clean water, a large bowl, and a clean white cloth."

"What for? Wait. Are you a priest?"

"Something like that. This is extremely important." Gordon disregarded his confusion and merely motioned for him to get it faster.

He walked towards the grieving mother and tried to talk to her. But found himself in an unsurmountable language barrier. When he tried to motion for the infant corpse, the mother would try to lash out.

He could be more forceful, but from the corner of his eyes, he could see onlookers restraining the urge to gather around them.

"Sir, please stop!" Another woman entered the galley, holding a glass of water. "I can answer your questions if you want."

He noted the cross on the woman's necklace and gave a gentle smile, producing a laminated ID identifying himself as a priest from the Holy See. "That's alright, ma'am. I'm, uh, Father Scobell."

The woman either protested his the existence of the identification or his status as priest in the Vatican city as she bowed reflexively. "I'm sorry, father. I-I'm just-"

"That's alright, child. You are strong." Gordon smiled, patting the woman on the shoulder, and just watched as the woman nearly crumpled into herself as she heard his words. Knowing the clocks still keep ticking, he went right into business. "I was just wondering if you'd let me do a last rite to the baby?"

The woman, eyes shining through her countless tears, nodded gently. "Do we need to do it now?"

Seeing her hesitation, Gordon steeled his gaze. "Yes, ma'am. The risks of doing it later... well, you know the deal."

After an excruciatingly long minute, he saw the mother decided to accept and strode towards her daughter. They spoke for a few seconds before she carefully cradled the baby and walked backed towards him.

"My daughter doesn't speak much English, Father." The woman said, a sad smile mustering up her wrinkled face. "But she agreed to it. We must get him up to heaven's door."

Gordon nodded as he began to set up an impromptu ritual rite. "Alright, once that Dante guy comes back, we'll start. What's his name?"

"Guntur." The mother of the child answered as she followed the two into the upstairs galley.

As they entered, they saw Dante frustratingly arguing with calm Miss Mary. A large white bowl lay upturned on the counter alongside all the other items Gordon required of him.

Noticing their arrival, Miss Mary turned her attention towards Gordon. "Father, is this really the right time for this? We will land in a few hours, after all."

"Lady, we could do this right now, or the baby ain't going to heaven." Godon said, intent on creating his makeshift ritual. He gazed towards the mother. "So, are we doing this or not?"

The mother agreed, her decision superseding any other arguments people could have.

Before he began, Gordon steadied himself. Replying all the information he had in his mind. He knew that most death rites are quick and simple, mostly confined through a lengthy but simple prayer. Though it garnered contentious arguments from the more conservative factions of the religion, mainly for the recentness of its creation; it was the go-to Rite for stillborns and babies who died shortly afterbirth.

Gordon was going to shorten and substitute a lot with this rite, given that many bore witness to the death of the infant. All that emotion from multiple vessels could become a catalyst for the undead. Their extreme emotion could jumpstart something he does not want when he's 30,000 feet up in the air.

He poured clean water into the large bowl before retrieving the mojo bag saddled on his belt. Although the others wanted to question his actions, the solemnity with which he devoted his concentration to the rite persuaded them not to.

The Rite for infants normally has three parts: If the body is present, then Gordon will do the Blessing of the Body, then the Prayer of Commendation, and, finally, the last Blessing. All working in conjunction to release the baby from its mortal coil and ascend wherever it was supposed to go.

Gordon cracked his neck and began the Blessing of the Body. "Fiducia in Jesum, Salvatorem amantissimum; qui liberos arma et benedixerunt parvuli; nunc hoc infanti commendamus eundem amplexu amoris; in spe gaudebunt et beati in conspectu Christi!"

As his invocation begin, the cabin shook with great intensity. Although the others merely thought of it as a normal turbulence, Gordon knew of the impending crisis.

He tried to continue the invocation, but soon, in the corner of his eyes, he noticed the ghastly hand that reached towards him. In but a moment, Gordon dodged backwards, startling all that surrounds him.

His sharp gaze broke through his shock as he locked onto his attacker. His eyes widened at the gaunt form of the mother, pale and sickly, unlike what he had seen not mere moments ago. "She's possessed. Back off, now!"

Most heeded his warning as they saw the sudden change of the mother, but they were not fast enough. The mother swung her misshapen arm at the nearest target: the grandmother.

Her claws tearing apart her clothes as the force of her swing roughy launched the grandmother at the other end of the small passageway. The plastic trays and other fragile structure caved in from the woman's weight as blood dripped from the claw marks on her right arm and torso.

The mother, using the momentum from the push, surged towards the flight attendants; but Gordon intervened, using his body to tackle her off the ground for a moment and slam her to the floor. He leveraged his body and strength to keep her restrained, but found himself being overpowered.

"You killed my baby!" The mother, who miraculously was now speaking English, roared indignantly at Gordon as she pushed him off of her and into two horrified flight attendants. "You killed my baby!"

"What the fuck is happening!?" Yelled Dante, helping Gordon on his feet. He saw the mother charging at him and threw Gordon in front of him.

Gordon had no time to complain, ducking at the last minute to dodge the claws before grappling her waist and throwing her back into the ground. "Salt! Get me salt!"

Gordon threw punch after punch, making sure he had kept her occupied as Dante ran towards the broken drawers to grab a salt shaker. Miss Mary, expectedly horror-struck, still remembered her training and attended the bloodied grandmother.

Unfortunately for Gordon, the mother's claws hit his side and dug its nails deeper, nearly piercing his kidneys, but was saved by Dante, who poured the uncapped salt shaker into the mother's face.

Gordon forced himself to stay put even under the malevolent roar of the possessed mother, sizzling smoke blowing straight to his face.

He soon felt the mother's claw recede from his side and slump into the ground. He removed his grapple and rolled sideways, panting in pain and exhaustion.

"Goddamn!" He spoke through gritted teeth, putting pressure in his wound. He wanted to rest, but he knew time was of the essence, for the spirit would strike once again. He slowly stood, shaking from the unending agony. "Get me iron and more salt!"

Before Dante could move, a sudden shift in gravity affected them all. Shouts, then, could be heard from the cockpit.

"Lewis, what the fuck are you doing!?" Loud bangs could be heard from the cockpit as the plane experienced extreme turbulence.

For a moment, all passengers were lifted off their seats and stayed mid-air for a few seconds before crashing down their seats. Hysterical shouts and danger-filled murmuring resounded across the plane

But throughout all that hubbub and danger, Gordon had one thought that pervaded his mind whenever he had a chance, 'Where the fuck is Richard?'