Work Text:
An excerpt from SUCESOS NEWS, 16th September 1992
Five days have now passed since a young group of girls were kidnapped from the Paraíso nightclub in Almanzora de la Vega. The mystery surrounding their whereabouts during the seven hours they were held captive only thickens as the rumours of their abduction, and subsequent rescue, continue to spread amongst the public. Attempts to gain further information have been made, however the young girls and their families have kept their mouths firmly shut since being seen in the local Civil Guard station Sunday night. The details of Spain’s latest scandal continue to remain a mystery, especially considering the suspicious circumstances surrounding their disappearance. Who were the kidnappers and how did these young girls make it out alive? Any readers with information are urged to contact the Civil Guard.
Amongst the chaotic aftermath of a freak event like no other, for the fifth night in a row, Quino found himself dreaming of fire.
Tonight was excruciatingly vivid, the flames scalding his cheeks as they rose steadily around him. A striking blaze of gold engulfed the once purple lights which illuminated the open ceiling. Before him, the large wooden beams split under their own immense weight, sending charred timber thundering to the floor. Fabric decorations curled into blackened fists, sparks flickering brightly in the air. Most of all, however, it was the scent of smoke which filled his lungs, perhaps every inch of his body, that sent a suffocating wave of nausea over him. Gasping, as Quino sat upright in bed, his momentary inability to breathe lingered just a little too long for comfort.
Later, as he chews the tip of his pencil while working on a sketch, the radio crackles to life from its place atop his shelf.
“Quino! Es Javi, do you copy?”
Manoeuvring his wheelchair away from the desk, Quino reaches for the radio and extends the antenna to its full length.
“Sí, Quino here. What’s up?”
“Meet me at the library in ten minutes. Álvaro and Zeta are coming too.”
“Wait, what? What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Can you be there?”
“Yeah sure, I’ll be there soon. Adiós.”
Quino places the radio down, suspicious of Javi’s cryptic message and wary of Zeta’s presence. Sure, he did help at Paraíso, but someone who would’ve beaten you up less than a week ago remains hard to trust.
Quickened with anticipation, Quino packs his sketchbook in his backpack and makes his way to the local library. His family's restaurant is much closer to town than Javi or Álvaro’s homes – likely Zeta too, who he’s pretty sure lives near the promenade – meaning he’s the first to arrive. It’s a quiet morning with few people inside, so Quino is able to claim their usual table near the back while he waits for the others.
A few minutes later Javi enters the library, clicking the door shut behind him. He readjusts his bag strap, glancing around nervously.
“Hola! Javi!” Quino calls loudly, waving his hand. Glaring sourly in his direction, the librarian wheels a cart stacked high with books past one of the shelves.
Javi’s gaze snaps to the table where Quino sits, and a smile cracks across his face. He weaves through the bookstacks and takes a seat opposite, gently sliding his bag onto the table.
Quino leans forward, a glint of intrigue in his eyes. “¿Qué pasa? You mentioned something important?”
“Mmm, it’s about. Well, you know…”
“Time travel?” Quino whispers excitedly, lowering his voice as if disclosing a government secret.
“Aha, yeah, sure,” Javi says with a roll of his eyes.
“So tell me, what’s Marty McFly been up to now? Was 2015 cool?”
“Oye! Slow down, 2015 is a little far ahead, I’m only from 1995, remember?”
Quino hums attentively. “Yeah, I know.”
Javi, upon noticing the change in his friend's demeanour, raises a single eyebrow. “Wait, you actually believe me now? ¿Por qué?”
“In 1995, you said that we were dead. ¡Muertos! But today, in 1992, we are alive, right?”
A bitter expression crosses Javi’s face, and he furrows his brows. “Mmm?”
“Well I’m starting to believe you, because ever since the party at Paraíso I’ve had these weird dreams. They’re about…”
Quino winces as Javi’s eyes widen in dread.
“They’re about a fire.”
“Fire?” he breathes, tensing his shoulders.
“Sí, a fire at Paraíso.”
“What? No, that’s impossible. The fire won’t happen. It can’t. We stopped it.”
“What do you mean?” Quino says, placing a shaky hand on Javi’s arm. “It was just a dream, right?”
“No, Quino. That really happened.”
“What, in your 1992 there was a fire at Paraíso? You’re kidding, right?”
Javi frowns, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes appear more sunken than Quino remembers, dark circles weighing down on his usually untroubled disposition. He wears the gaze of someone much older, something the boy certainly didn’t possess last week. Though his fantastic story of time travel, no matter how ludicrous, was already hard enough to believe, when Javi first spoke of what was to transpire at Paraíso, Quino immediately knew he was telling the truth. That’s why he’d convinced Álvaro to help. Because someone like Javi would never lie.
Now, Javi’s hard expression causes Quino to falter. Cautiously, he removes his hand from Javi’s arm, resting it on the table.
“Oh, mierda. You really are serious."
Blinking rapidly, the memory of flames burn in Quino’s retinas, his eyes glassy from unshed tears.
“A fire? That’s how we died, right? In a fire?”
Javi bites his cheek and nods solemnly, but won’t look Quino in the eye.
Quino pushes away from the desk in a panic. “¡Mierda!” he curses. “¡Mierda, mierda, mierda!”
Javi’s face drops as he looks up, recalling those exact words being said when they first woke up post-mortem, amongst thick clouds of ash.
“But you were there, and Álvaro too. And Zeta. So what, we all just died? No way. But that means– ¡Dios mío! Javi, aren’t you dead?”
“¿Eh? What do you mean?”
“If you time travelled back from 1995, surely that means you still died, right? Doesn’t that make you a time travelling zombie, dead in your time, but not in ours?”
"Hey, I’m no zombie! I think this must be my past body, because I’m definitely alive right now,” Javi says, feeling the wooden table’s worn grooves beneath his fingertips.
“Are you sure?” Quino whispers.
“Uh, sí, I would know. When I tried walking through my bedroom door I hit my nose.”
Quino snorts. “No way you actually tried that.”
Javi nods bashfully. “Well how was I to know? It’s not like I meant to time travel, it just kinda happened. I woke up and was suddenly alive again.”
“You didn’t even mean to come back?”
“No, it was a mistake. I don’t really remember how I got here, but I think I was supposed to go to the Abyss instead.”
Javi waits for a reaction from the boy that spent three years stuck in the Abyss, so he’s baffled when none comes. Of course, this Quino never got stuck in there. Hell, he doesn’t even know what the Abyss is. That’s something, Javi decides, his friend doesn’t need to be reminded of.
Oblivious to Javi’s turmoil and instead returning to the morbid subject matter, Quino can’t help his fascination. “Scary. That would’ve been so weird. What’s it like, you know, to be dead?”
“Lonely,” Javi says, resting his chin in his palm. “It was lonely. No one could see or hear us, so we only had each other. It was like being stuck in limbo, watching life move on without us. Especially when rescuing Sandra, all I could do was watch.”
“Oh, that’s horrible,” Quino says. “Please tell me we at least had cool ghost powers?”
Javi smirks. “Ha, does walking through walls count?”
“¡Guau! So we really could do that? Could you fly like Superman?”
“Pfft, no, I wish. We could sort of teleport though, but it was hard to do.”
“Ok, ok. What about this– could you move things around with your mind? Like when Luke Skywalker uses the Force?”
“Uhh sure, sí, we learnt how to move things. Not with our minds though, come on. The Force? It’s not a movie, we couldn’t do magic or anything. Well, not really, anyway.”
Being the so-called ‘Chosen One’ was a little complicated, so Javi understandably hadn’t quite figured it out. Marqués, his biological father, could control people’s will. It was a bit sickening to think perhaps Javi could do the same. On second thoughts, maybe he was a bit like Luke Skywalker, villainous father and all, although telling Quino that would be sure to set course to an entirely different conversation.
“Learning to move things instead of just phasing through them took a whole three years. Although you did get pretty good at it eventually,” Javi says. Upon eyeing Quino’s captivated face he adds, “but that’s a long time, remember? And a lot of concentration!”
Quino huffs, leaning back in his chair. “Ok then, you win. What about mi familia?”
Javi notices that Quino’s sketchbook is peering out of the back pocket of his bag. The front cover reads, in bold handwritten letters, ‘QUINO, 14 años. 1991-1992.’
In Javi’s reality that sketchbook was burned in the fire, a proper testament to how often he carried it with him. Of all things to long for as a ghost, Javi recalls, it was art that Quino grieved for the most. Following the fire, they never saw his journal again, and yet here it was before them now, entirely intact. Even if Quino didn’t know it, Javi was glad he had it back.
“They missed you,” Javi says finally, a mournful edge to his voice. “Your family missed you more than you or I could ever know.”
Now, at the library door, Álvaro and Zeta brush fingers as they reach for the handle at the same time. Álvaro quickly pulls back, muttering a quiet apology under his breath.
“Está bien,” Zeta mumbles softly, turning the knob and holding the door open for the other boy.
As they enter, Quino's voice calls from across the room.
“¡Psst, Ál!”
The librarian tuts loudly at his volume with a finger pressed to her lips, and Álvaro can imagine it’s not the first time she’s had to do so.
Turning his head, he spots Quino and Javi at their usual table.
Quino grins widely. "¡Hola, vamos!"
As they each take a seat, Zeta crosses his arms defensively. “Why am I here? The girls are safe now, right? Has something else happened? Ál just showed up at my house and told me I needed to be here.”
Javi shakes his head. “No, está bien, the girls are fine. This is something else.”
Zeta clicks his tongue dubiously. “Okay then, what’s up?”
“Well Javi was just telling me about how when he was dead he could walk through walls,” Quino blurts out, punching Javi playfully. “Did you know he nearly lost a tooth because he forgot how to use a door?”
“Aye that’s not true!” Javi retorts. “I did not forget! You try being dead for three years and see how hard it is to not run into stuff all the time, huh?”
“¿Eh?” Álvaro complains, widening his eyes. “Stop it Quino, what are you on about? Javi is not dead, he’s right here.”
“Not in this timeline. But in his future, in 1995, he is. All of us are. He told us the other day, remember?”
“Sí, he was talking about zombies and the undead, but we thought it was a joke. Some video game or something.”
“¿Qué?” Zeta interrupts. “You don’t believe this, Ál, do you?” Though he tries to remain stubborn, Zeta’s voice is filled with doubt. “Ál?”
“I don’t know how, Zeta, but he knew." Álvaro hisses. “He knew all about me, and about you. He knew everything that would happen. How else are you meant to explain that?”
Álvaro turns to look at Javi sadly. “And you were right about my parents too. Just please stop being cryptic and tell us what’s going on?”
“¿Tu madre?” Zeta snaps at Javi. “You’re not responsible for what happened to Ál’s mother, are you?”
Javi throws his arms up in an attempt to reason. “¡Oye! Of course not.”
“But you knew that they were involved?” Zeta snarls.
“No, I didn’t know the other Undead would come after your parents. ¡Mierda! I’m so sorry, Ál. I really didn’t know.”
Álvaro clears his throat quietly. “Está bien, I know it’s not your fault.”
Zeta furrows his brows in concern as he watches Álvaro’s face. Adjusting his glasses, Álvaro shakes his head softly and sits up straight. “Anyway, tell us what’s happening.”
Before Javi can get a word in, Quino slides his open notebook towards the boys.
“I’ve been seeing this in my dreams.”
“¿Qué? That looks kind of like Paraíso,” Álvaro mutters, staring at the sketch drawn in red and purple coloured pencils. A large disco ball in the centre is bursting with flames, surrounded by various shadowed outlines of wooden beams, as well as banners set alight. Four small silhouettes stand in the background watching as the fire engulfs the room.
“That’s because it is Paraíso.”
“¡Mierda, Quino! How did you know?” Zeta demands, slamming his hands on the table.
“Huh? Know what?”
“About the fire… ¡Paraíso en llamas! I’ve had dreams just like that too.”
Javi coughs, startled. “Wait, you’ve dreamt of the fire too?”
Zeta nods fearfully, the chilling realisation that this may all be true creeping up his spine.
“What about you, Ál? Have you had any visions?” Quino interjects.
The boy inspects the sketch closer, chewing his lip. “No, I don’t recognise this. I don’t normally remember dreams anyway. Besides everything weird that’s happened in the last week, that being most things, nothing is really out of the ordinary.”
“Really? What about the hospital?” Javi says.
Álvaro shrugs. “I know after Paraíso, Sandra and the others stayed overnight, but I didn’t go. Otherwise I haven’t really thought about it.”
Javi absently toys with his hair, searching for an explanation.
“Oh, that’s it!” he gasps. “¡Historias de amor! I forgot the name, but Ál, do you know it?"
"Like the OBK song?”
“Sí, you remember it?”
“Of course. It’s the best track from their album Llámalo Sueño. It’s been stuck in my head all week. Why?”
“You were dancing to it when we went to Paraíso. ”
“Dancing?” Álvaro considers, scratching his neck. A memory resurfaces in his mind of a visit to Paraíso, although he can’t seem to recall many details. It’s incomplete and hazy, like a vague word he can’t find on the tip of his tongue.
“Wait, sí, that’s right,” he says. “There were lots of lights flashing, all pink and blue. I remember now, Quino put the OBK record on, but he said they have a bad name. I was dancing and then– and then Zeta showed up?”
Zeta covers his face with his palms, flashes of a memory returning.
“Mierda, that’s right. I beat you guys up, didn’t I?”
“Wait, I don’t understand, none of you should remember this,” Javi frets. “This all happened in an alternate timeline, this doesn’t make sense.”
Quino slides his sketchbook back towards him. “Javi, you’re literally from an ‘alternate timeline’ yourself. Of course none of this makes sense.”
Javi scrunches his brow, unsatisfied.
“On the bright side though, at least we’re still alive?” Quino says.
“But what if this still happens? What if there’s still a fire?” Zeta worries, drumming his fingers on the table. “I can’t do that to my mamá, not after Morte got locked up. She’s been through enough.”
“No, this won’t happen. Not again.” Javi says defiantly, sliding his chair back. “I won’t let it. We need to go talk to Olivia.”
“Olivia?” the boys echo.
Quino shoves the journal back inside his backpack. “¿Por qué Olivia?”
“She can help us, she’s a medium,” Javi shrugs. Upon receiving vacant stares, he backtracks. “What, you didn’t know? How else did you think the girls escaped Las Palmeras Hotel?”
The three boys exchange puzzled glances, realising none of them had actually bothered to find out the details of what happened that night.
“You all assumed the girls managed to escape the hotel and conveniently set off the flare by themselves?”
Quino shrugs. “Uhh, sí?”
Javi sighs exasperatedly. “No, of course not. It was our ghost friend Anabel. Apparently she helped get rid of the Undead and gave the girls an opening to run. I’m not entirely sure though, that’s just what Olivia said at the hospital and we didn’t have much time. We should go find her.”
He turns to leave the library but is stopped by Zeta, who plants his feet stubbornly in the way and firmly grabs Álvaro’s arm.
“Look man, I don’t care whoever this Anabel chica is, I just want you to tell me exactly what’s going on, and what we can do about these visions.”
“If you want to do something about the visions, then we need to see Olivia now. I’ll explain on the way, but without her help I’m not sure what will happen, or how to stop them from coming true. Please, can you trust me?”
Zeta, unconvinced, looks to Álvaro for support. Ál gives a small nod and, though still wary, Zeta is willing to accept Javi’s answer.
“Colliding timelines? Man, this is some serious stuff,” Quino mumbles as they work their way to the library exit. “And now you're telling me Olivia can talk to los muertos too?”
“¿Hola, Olivia?”
Javi raps loudly on the front door, peering in through the side windows of the large house and into the front room.
Leaning against the wall, Álvaro folds in his arms and sighs impatiently.
“I don’t like this. Will Olivia really be able to help?”
“I don’t know. But she sure does have a weird house,” Quino says.
“She lives in a funeral home, of course it’s gonna be weird,” Zeta mutters.
The four boys stand awkwardly on the porch waiting for someone to answer the door. Smirking, Quino leans over to whisper to Ál.
“This place is definitely haunted.”
Álvaro gives a half shrug, but is unable to repress a smile.
“Shut up, she’s coming!” Javi hisses, pressing his ear to the door.
There’s a distant thumping noise, as if someone’s descending the stairs, followed by an irritated huff as the lock clicks. The door swings wide open to reveal Olivia, staring dumbfounded, her hand still clutching the door handle.
“¿Eh, Javi? Guys? What on earth are you all doing here?”
“Hola…” Quino sings, tipping his head cheerfully. “We kind of need your help.”
“Huh, sure you do. Like what?”
Zeta raises his chin.
“You know, dead people stuff.”
Her gaze flits nervously between the boys. “You… know about that?”
“Well I don’t know, Javi, do we?” Álvaro mutters scornfully. “It’s not like you’ve been exactly transparent with us.”
“It’s not like I didn’t try telling you guys, you just wouldn’t believe me. How can that be my fault?”
“Oh, come on. Time travelling? Kidnapping? Ghosts? Of course we didn’t believe you. At least… not until it happened, anyway.”
Javi shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away.
“Woah woah, guys,” Olivia intervenes, spreading her arms between them. “You better leave this bickering at the door or else you're not coming in.”
“Sorry. They’re sorry, right?” Quino appeases, furrowing his brows at the boys, who each nod remorsefully. “We really need your help, Olivia. Please?”
“Uh, sí, whatever,” She says, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heels. “¡Vamos chicos!”
Zeta enters first, closely followed by Álvaro. With some manoeuvring, Quino guides his wheelchair through the door and Javi joins last, pulling the door shut behind them.
The interior of the house, which is perhaps stranger than the exterior, as the boys observe, is filled with floral arrangements, a large archway opening to the main funeral parlour, and a grand staircase leading to what they presume to be the family’s residence. A small sign to their left reads ‘Funeraria Quiñones’.
“Pleasant,” Zeta murmurs, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
As Olivia walks towards the archway, her slight limp is not left unnoticed by Javi.
“Man, I hate stairs,” she declares, tapping her nails on the bannister as they pass.
“Yeah,” Quino says incredulously, giving a pointed gesture to his wheelchair. “Me too.”
Blushing, she tugs at her ear. “Sorry.”
“Just teasing,” Quino jokes, but there’s a coy smile on his lips.
They gather around a large table in the parlour, where an elaborate bouquet serves as a centrepiece to the empty seats. As she slides out one of the upholstered chairs, Olivia clears her throat assertively.
“So, what ghosts do you need me to bust?”
“Uhh… none,” Javi says, taking a seat. “We don’t need that kind of help.”
“Right,” she says sceptically. “Then what’s up?”
“Remember when I warned you and Bea about the Paraíso kidnapping? When I said I had lived it before?”
She hums solemnly, a dark look crossing her face.
“In my future where you weren’t kidnapped – only my sister, Eva and Malena were – it was over three months before the girls were rescued.”
“Three months?” She breathes, horrified.
“Sí, the police had no leads and we couldn’t find them. It was…” he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can't explain it.”
Shaking his head from heavy memories, Javi continues.
“Anyway, one night I went to Paraíso in the hopes of finding some clues, but didn’t realise Ál and Quino had followed me there. And Zeta too, for some reason. We actually did end up finding something beneath the freezer. It was a hidden ladder that led to the tunnels where the girls were kidnapped. We tried to investigate, but before we could escape there was –”
“– A fire,” Álvaro interrupts. “There was a fire and we died.”
Olivia lets out a soft ‘oh’, her mouth forming a hard line. “I think I understand now,” she murmurs. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“I can sort of remember, but it's really vague.” Quino says. “What happened next?”
Javi twists his hands. “A lot. And let me tell you, los muertos get no rest. We still couldn’t find Sandra and her friends, and we were practically helpless in the investigation. But then the Undead got involved, we nearly got killed again, and we had to prevent a cultic ritual seeking eternal youth. In the end the girls were saved, but then we got stuck in the afterlife for three years.”
“Uh, I might have some questions,” Zeta says hesitantly, eyeing the group.
“Me too…” Quino adds.
Álvaro shifts in his seat. “Okay, I remember something, like some sort of… teléfono? I don’t know. But I can’t remember actually, you know, dying.”
“That’s because you died after us in the hospital. One of the Undead attacked you before you could tell Costa anything about the tunnels.”
“Oh, that’s… complicated,” Álvaro says, looking more confused than before.
“And that brings us to our problem. None of that has happened in this timeline. None of it should happen. We are all still alive, and yet you guys are having random memories from a future where you’re dead. How does that even happen?” Javi worries, leaning back in his chair.
“Okay you’re right,” Olivia concludes, pushing up her glasses. “You really do need my help. So tell me, when exactly did these –”
Stopping abruptly, her gaze drifts towards the hall, focusing on a spot not far above the boys’ heads.
"Uhh, Olivia?" Quino cautions, glancing behind him uneasily to an empty space in the room. “What is it?”
Phasing into the foyer and looking somewhat worn out, Anabel stands, hands on hips, catching her breath.
“Olivia! Phew, I have been running around for two hours trying to find the delivery truck, but I have –” She pauses, startled. “Javi? ¿Chicos?”
Drawing nearer, her eyes wide. “¿Qué? I never thought I’d see you again… but here you are.”
Javi, though his gaze is in her direction, bears no signs of recognising the spirit unknowingly before him.
“No Anabel, he can’t…” Olivia exhales quietly.
“Anabel?” Javi repeats, spinning towards Olivia. “She’s here?”
Zeta looks frantically around the empty room. “Ghost girl?”
“Wait, you know Anabel?” Olivia asks, eyeing the disheartened ghost.
Javi nods. “Of course, she helped us in the future. She saved my life.”
Anabel’s usually peppy nature is overshadowed with realisation. “He can’t see me.”
Olivia gently shakes her head. “No he can’t, he’s alive.”
“I can’t see her,” Javi mirrors. Instinctively brushing hair out of his eyes, he fingers hover over the white streak in his fringe.
“Is there really a ghost here with us?” Álvaro asks, and Olivia gives a small nod.
“No way… you really are a medium!” Quino says.
Ignoring him, Olivia waves for Anabel’s attention. “You mentioned a delivery truck?”
“Yes! When Javi disappeared into the Abyss the boys and I had to possess objects in order to try and save him, but before we got anywhere I was pulled back in time to when you were trapped in Las Palmeras Hotel. I’ve been trying to find the boys in Macastre where we were headed, but they weren’t there. I thought maybe they were trapped in the Abyss too.”
“... the Abyss?”
Javi’s head snaps up at Olivia’s word.
“What’s happening?” Zeta whispers in Álvaro’s ear, but both are equally as lost as the other.
“She says you guys were put in objects,” Olivia tries to recount, looking to Anabel for confirmation. “Possessed the objects, specifically. And you tried to save Javi but you got kind of lost? And something about the Abyss. I don’t really understand.”
“That’s okay,” Anabel says, sudden enthusiasm filling her voice. “Because I found the package! I changed the delivery address to your house, so it should be here.”
“Package? What package?”
“The one with the objects. And I think, maybe, with memories too.”
“Memories?” Javi repeats.
Anabel gasps. “He heard me?” She waves a hand in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.
Massaging his temple, strange sounds fill Javi’s ears. Impatient, Anabel leans forward and prods him in the shoulder. Although Olivia sees her finger pass right through, emanating sparks as the two beings collide, Javi jolts sharply away at the touch.
“Anabel?”
He looks up to where she stands, this time his eyes focusing on hers.
“¡Dios mío, Anabel!”
Leaping to his feet, Javi begins talking to what the boys see as simply a blank space on the wall.
Loudly clearing his throat, Quino scans the room. “Anabel?”
Olivia clicks her tongue, looking to Javi’s right.
“Oh, right,” Quino says, addressing the wall. “Are you also from the future? From 1995?”
Javi glances beside him. “She says yes. When I was sent back in time, she was accidentally pulled along with me because of her connection to la Mortaja, and you guys followed her. Although she could get out of the doll she possessed, you three were still stuck in your objects. There was a comic,” he says, counting on his fingers. “A music record, and a sports card.”
“So that’s how you knew about my Hugo Sánchez card,” Zeta realises, leaning forward. “That makes sense. But you’re trying to tell me our souls are trapped in objects? That’s just too weird.”
“And how come Anabel is the only one who could escape?” Álvaro considers.
Quino drums his fingers on the table. “Wait – Anabel. When did you die?”
“1987,” Olivia interprets.
“So today, in 1992, you’re already dead?”
Anabel wraps her arms around her side with a nod, and Olivia gives confirmation.
“But Ál, Zeta and I – we’re alive. ¡Dios mío! That must be it! It’s classic science fiction rules, you can’t exist in two places at once. Anabel has no living body here, so that’s why she could get out but we couldn’t.”
Anabel snaps her fingers at him, bouncing up and down. “¡Sí, Quino! That’s it, of course!”
Olivia smiles. “She thinks you’re right.”
“So then what does this mean?” Álvaro asks, fiddling with his glasses. “That there really is an alternate version of us from the future?”
“And our visions of the fire and el teléfono, that’s all real?” Zeta says.
“Mhm,” Javi murmurs. “But why does that still matter? We stopped the ritual and prevented our deaths. This is finally our second chance, you guys don’t deserve to remember all that.”
“Oye, that’s not fair,” Quino retorts. “We lived it too, even if we can’t fully remember. This is not your burden to carry alone.”
“Yeah, I don’t care how much it sucks, I want to know exactly what happened,” Zeta says. “I want to recover my memories. No matter how painful, I’ll manage. It’s the right thing to do.”
Álvaro chews his cheek nervously, but finds himself agreeing. Ignorance may be bliss, but cowardice is not what he stands for.
“What do we need to do?”
Anabel sways on her feet, a sheepish look on her face.
“I think, for now, we just need to wait,” Olivia says.
Some time later the noisy clunks of a small delivery truck echo from the driveway.
“It’s here!” Anabel cheers, leaping from her chair and phasing through the front door in a burst of sparks. Olivia stumbles through the hall after her, a hand pressed steadily against the wall for support.
“Hold on!” she yells.
Álvaro, his head resting on Zeta’s shoulder, jolts upright at the sound. Their eyes meet, but both quickly look away, flustered.
Undoing the latch, Olivia swings the door open to reveal the outside world. A moment later Anabel reappears, attempting to drag a cardboard box in through the door.
“¡Guau, un fantasma!” Quino shouts, pointing at the box sliding along the floor.
“Haha,” Anabel mocks dryly to deaf ears. “A little help, Olivia?” she grunts, using her full strength, but to little avail.
“Eh, no thanks,” Olivia says stubbornly, hand cradling her bad hip.
“Gracias… for nothing,” Anabel responds. Tucking her curly hair behind her ears, she gives up, crossing her arms.
“If they want their memories back then they have to walk for it,” she pouts.
“You could have just said so,” Javi says.
Opening the box, they find three items lying inside. An OBK record of Llámalo Sueño, a Hugo Sánchez card, and a copy of the El Motorista Zombie comic.
“What do we do?” Álvaro asks, peering inside.
“I don’t know,” Olivia shrugs. “I kind of hoped you guys would know.”
“But you’re the medium, not us!” Quino says, astonished.
“Maybe you should pick them up?” Javi suggests, his face deep in thought. “How did you get inside the objects anyway?”
“A ritual,” Anabel says. “No sé. I’ve never had to get a spirit out of an object before, only in.”
“Here goes nothing!” Quino prays, leaning over to grab his comic book. As he grips the novel, he begins violently convulsing, throwing his arms out and lolling his head back.
Olivia grabs his shoulder in a panic, but just as quickly as it began, he stops flailing about.
“Just kidding,” he grins. “Nothing happened.”
“¡Quino!” Olivia shouts, slapping his arm. “¡Mierda! What the hell! You scared me!”
Equally as unamused, the boys sigh at Quino’s dramatics.
“Sorry, chicos,” he says. “I’m fine, really.”
“Well yeah, you better be after that stunt you pulled,” Álvaro grumbles, picking up his OBK record.
As Zeta takes his card, kicking the empty box out of the way, the three boys stare down at the items in their hands.
“All my memories are in… this?” Álvaro ponders, slowly turning the album over in his palms. “It doesn’t feel very special.”
“I wonder why,” Zeta chuckles, earning a slap from the other boy.
“¡Oye! I’m just pulling your leg.”
Shaking the comic, Quino squeezes his eyes shut.
Olivia tilts her head. “Anything?”
He leans back in his wheelchair with a shrug. “No clue.”
The harder the boys concentrate, the more frustrated they get.
“This is estúpido!” Zeta complains, throwing his hands in the air. “We’re never getting our memories back.”
“Tell him to have some faith,” Anabel orders. “This bad attitude is getting him nowhere!”
“Anabel says to toughen up,” Olivia says flippantly.
“Watch it, ghost girl,” Zeta warns, pulling a face in her general direction.
“Psst guys, I’m getting something!” Quino interrupts hopefully, eyes still shut. “I’m getting… Mortal Kombat 3? What?”
Álvaro laughs dismissively, but recognition slowly dawns his features. “Wait, mierda, you’re right. And Olivia, your hair was purple!”
"Really?" she says, tossing her hair, seemingly considering the idea.
Lifting his gaze to meet Álvaro’s, an aching fear looms behind Zeta’s eyes. “Do you…?”
Álvaro nods silently, colour spreading across his cheeks. Mi amor, yes, he remembers. When the sparks of electricity flooded the room as the generator squealed with a newfound intensity, there was an energy that radiated between the two boys, lips barely touching. The first kiss was like plummeting from an impossible height, succumbing to the arms of desire. Álvaro could feel so much even in death, but oh, just imagine, to feel such emotion in life.
They exchange no words, but a shy smile pulls at Zeta’s lips.
“Anabel?” Quino whispers. “Dios mío, you really are here!”
“You see her?” Javi asks.
“Sí! She’s right here!”
They high five, orange specks bursting upon contact. Though she’s a ghost, Quino still feels her contact on his palms, like the memory of touch.
“Aha, cool,” he says with a grin.
“Did it work? You guys have your memories back?” Olivia asks.
“Yeah, but it’s weird,” Quino says. “It’s like my mind remembers all this happening, but my body doesn’t. Like a really vivid dream. It’s a bit disorienting.”
“But Javi, we’re back!” Álvaro says, nudging his friend affectionately. “We’re back home!”
“And alive,” Zeta adds. “That's a plus.”
The four boys tumble into a relieved embrace, all glassy eyed. Quino tugs Olivia in as well, who blushes slightly, but joins in nonetheless. Anabel’s non-corporeal self collides with the group, a fiery glow tethering her to the living plane.
“We’re safe now, chicos. We’re home,” Álvaro mumbles into Zeta’s shoulder. “This is our second chance.”