The Aging: A Novel

by Jack Hunt

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “Not if it’s nanotechnology. Nanobots. That’s what some are saying. That it’s not a typical virus.”

  “Josh.”

  “Think about it, Mom. Is it any more ridiculous than what we are already seeing? People shouldn’t be aging several years in twenty-four hours.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, Josh, but…”

  “No, listen to me. I’ve been reading up on this. They have been testing nanotechnology for years and have been talking about human trials in cancer patients. This could be some kind of variant of the Werner Syndrome. That’s very real, Mom.”

  “I know, Josh. I’ve read about it. It makes people grow old too fast but Werner Syndrome occurs over years, not days. And that also wouldn’t explain how it could stop the aging process in you if you transmitted it to someone else.”

  “It could if we understood more about nanobots and how they’re being used in medicine.”

  “Where did you hear about this?”

  “Online.”

  She sighed. “Josh. You can’t believe everything online.”

  “Where else are we meant to find out?” he shot back. “Look, they’re saying that if someone gives it to you, you can spread it to someone who doesn’t have it and it will slow the aging process back to normal in you. Think about that, Mom. Wouldn’t that be something worth exploring? You could live. We could stop this.”

  “Josh.”

  He continued, desperate for her to understand. “No. You’re not listening. I saw it. I witnessed it with my own eyes. There was this guy online that said he hasn’t aged in over a week since he transmitted it to someone else. The rash, the nosebleeds, and the aging slowed to its normal rate. That’s got to be good, right?”

  “Sure, if it’s true, which, c’mon, Josh, it’s probably not. But think about it. Even if it was true. It might be okay for the person who gave it away. But what about the one who receives it?”

  “They give it away to someone else.”

  He heard her sigh. “That goes against—”

  “Everything you and the medical field has taught,” he said, cutting her off. “I get it. Self-isolation. Wait it out. Don’t be selfish. Stay clear. I understand, Mom. But that doesn’t look as if it’s working for you.”

  Josh thought about the man in the video breaking into a house and attacking that woman just so he could infect someone else. Or a live video of people swarming innocent bystanders so they could touch them. “If you could give it to someone else to save yourself, would you?” Josh asked.

  “No,” his mother said without hesitation. “It’s not right. Besides, it’s probably just a lie. Every virus that comes along, someone claims there is a cure but there isn’t. If there isn’t a cure for Werner Syndrome, there most definitely isn’t a cure for this.”

  He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “It seems ironic, doesn’t it. No one wants to grow old and yet we all are. And now it’s happening even faster.”

  “It’s one of humanity’s greatest fears,” she said. “They’ve created a billion-dollar anti-aging industry from that fear. Serums, pills, diets, injections, anything and everything to turn back the hands of time and then this happens.” She snorted. “Just like us to screw it up.”

  There was quiet as he contemplated what she said. Had they screwed up?

  “Mom, how old are you now? I mean, how old do you look?”

  Six days had passed since he’d last seen her.

  “You know you shouldn’t ask a woman that.” She laughed a little but it faded fast. “I don’t want you to remember me like this, Josh.”

  “I would have eventually seen it.”

  “Yes, over time. Not this way.”

  “Please.”

  Josh heard her sigh.

  “Please. I have to know.”

  “If I send you this, you delete it immediately. You hear me?”

  “You have my word.”

  He heard the sound of her camera snapping. Then a few seconds later a photo message came through and he opened it and felt his eyes begin to well with tears. She looked as if she’d aged more than ten years. It was like time itself was moving too fast, robbing her of the life she was meant to have. It was taking away his mother before she had a chance to see them become who they were meant to be.

  “Josh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Delete it. I don’t want Lily seeing it.”

  He nodded and hit delete. He let out a lungful of air and shook his head, unable to believe this was happening. But it was.

  He slammed a fist against the door. “It’s not fair.”

  “Oh, son… life’s not fair. Some people lose a parent when they’re young. Others don’t even know theirs.”

  There was silence before he got up.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get supplies.”

  “Take the Glock. And Josh. Cover yourself up. Don’t go near anyone. Keep your distance.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m good at that,” he said, thinking of how for years he’d kept people at arm’s length, never allowing anyone to get too close, close enough that they could cause him pain. It was easier to live that way.

  Over the next five minutes, he made a list of essentials. Non-perishables. Food that would last, along with medical supplies. Using the motorcycle, he wouldn’t be able to carry much.

  Josh changed into a long-sleeved, black polo top that covered his neck. He slipped into his thick leather coat, donned gloves, then used some masking tape around his wrists and ankles. He collected an N95 mask from his mother’s medical bag just in case he had to take off his helmet. He grabbed two backpacks that could be used for carrying groceries and checked that he had a full magazine before collecting his motorcycle helmet. He made his way down to the room where Lily was watching TV. She was laid back on a bean bag eating chips while watching a movie. He tapped the door. “I’m going into town, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  She twisted in his direction. “Can I come?”

  “No. I need you to stay here just in case mom wants anything.”

  “Why are you going out?”

  “To get food.”

  She sighed. “I haven’t been out in days. I want to go out.”

  “You can’t. Okay?”

  “But you can?”

  “I’m older than you.”

  She tossed her pack of chips to one side and folded her arms and looked at the TV. “I wish I was older,” she said, saying what he and many his age had muttered at one time or another. Somehow there was a perceived belief that freedom was attached to being older as if it afforded them the ability to do whatever they wanted. It did to some extent. Well nature had just flipped the coin. Now freedom was staying young or you died. “I want you to lock the door behind me. And Lily, don’t answer that door unless it’s me. You don’t even make a sound. You understand?”

  “I got it,” she said, scowling.

  “We can’t trust anyone.”

  He headed for the front of the house and moved a heavy piece of furniture jammed behind the door out of the way. Lily wouldn’t have the strength to shift it back into place but she could lock it and stay hidden. The road they lived on was far enough out of town and away from the main suburbs that he didn’t expect trouble. His nearest neighbor was half a mile down the road. The home was off Route 12, at the far northeastern corner of the boundary line, and nestled among pines. If it wasn’t for the mailbox at the end of their driveway, it could have easily been missed.

  Josh added fuel to his dirt bike and fired it up, then veered out onto Route 12 heading southwest. There were only a few options. He figured Walmart was his best shot. He could head up North Tram Road then dart east over to it and that way avoid the heart of town.

  In and out. He wouldn’t linger.

  He already had a list.

  His mind began thinking of the worst.

  But how bad could it be out here? He’d always conside
red Vidor, Texas, to be in the middle of nowhere. If there was trouble to be had, it would be in Beaumont which was a lot bigger. However, after witnessing what he had on the day of his release, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  On the way in, the roads looked clear.

  He shot past several pedestrians, folks on bicycles, other vehicles doing the rounds. Life was for the most part continuing as usual though now people weren’t taking chances. As Josh got closer to Walmart, he saw a large line of people outside, separated by at least ten feet. All right. That was good. There was order. At least among those who weren’t affected.

  He parked the dirt bike a good distance away from the main entrance and kept his helmet on, observing and treating every person as a potential death threat.

  Josh joined the line, glancing over his shoulder as others fell in behind him. He turned and stood at an angle so he could see those in front and those that were behind him as well as anyone else approaching from the lot full of cars. He noticed the same degree of vigilance being taken by others. The smart ones weren’t showing any skin and their faces were covered in balaclavas. The rest were taking a chance.

  What was clear was the infection, if it could be called that, was meant to spread person-to-person via touch, saliva, blood, sex, or a scratch. Unlike the incubation period of three to five days for other viruses, this was aggressive, fast-acting and within twenty-four hours those who had contracted it would show symptoms. The challenge was identifying those who had it before those symptoms showed up. Besides frequent nosebleeds and a rash, the only other way to know was if the person told you or you knew them and had seen them age. Otherwise, anyone could have it.

  Young, middle-aged, elderly, everyone around him was aging naturally, the challenge was discerning who was aging abnormally. That’s what made it so dangerous. Someone infected could hide a nosebleed, they could cover up a rash, and they certainly could say they were a certain age.

  And IDs? Well, teens had been creating fake IDs for decades. How would this be any different? There was no fever, no red eyes, no sneezing that would indicate someone had it. It wasn’t sending people out of control.

  Attacks were purposeful, and at times planned.

  One thing they did know was that it wasn’t airborne as there were still many that didn’t have it. Unlike other viruses that required people to self-isolate and play the waiting game, this didn’t work that way, not unless you wanted to die alone.

  The aging didn’t go away with time. Time was the enemy.

  The only known way to slow it, or some said stop it, was for the virus to attach itself to a new host. Someone who didn’t have it. Why it worked that way was anyone’s guess. Right now, he had to wonder how many locals knew about that.

  The unusual manner in which the virus transferred was like pouring a glass of water from one cup into another, leaving the first one dry. It had led to conspiracy theories that this had been manufactured in a lab — that it was some kind of medical nanobot, a collection of microscopic machines that could travel through the body, repair damaged cells and organs, wipe out disease, cure cancer, restore memory and even slow aging.

  What if the testing for slowing aging had gone wrong?

  Maybe that’s why they’d tried to keep this under wraps for the first few weeks.

  How many others knew about this unusual method of transfer?

  He figured he wasn’t the only one staying abreast of online reports.

  No words were exchanged by anyone. It was quiet. People kept their distance. The grim reality hung heavy like a fog. Infection was a death sentence, plain and simple.

  Josh made it to the front of the line, showed his ID and face, and was waved inside by a security guard who was outfitted in as much protective gear as he was. They only allowed in a small number of people at a time. As soon as he was in, he hurried down the aisles, filling the cart with food. In a matter of a week, the shelves were almost bare.

  Fear had driven many to overbuy, leading to limitations. Big signs informed people of how many items they could take. Gone were the days of taking whatever you liked. Every item was accounted for. Now the only trucks allowed in and out of the city were delivery and supply trucks. He didn’t expect that to last.

  Once Josh had what he needed, he was directed to roll his cart over to the checkout. As they filled a couple of bags, some of the staff watched on an overhead TV the chaos unfold in Lexington. It was the same stories on repeat.

  Was there any hope that it would end? He wanted to believe it but the news footage told a very different story, one of the downfall, people purposely passing on what they had to avoid death.

  “Thanks,” he said, giving a nod to the checkout lady as he strolled out with two bags. He hadn’t made it but a few feet outside when two vehicles, seemingly going at a normal speed, sped up and plowed into the line of people.

  One SUV crashed into the glass window, shattering it and pinning multiple adults under the wheels. The driver and several occupants got out and began touching and coughing blood over people they’d downed.

  That was another symptom. It was called hemoptysis.

  That was the medical term. At least that’s what his mother said. It was blood that came from the lungs as well as internal hemorrhaging of the capillaries. Bright red, and frothy. The result of prolonged infection. It was the body’s reaction to aging too fast.

  Josh’s eyes darted.

  It was pure pandemonium.

  Some were screaming at the sight of downed people while others fled in every direction to escape those looking to spread the pathogen.

  Fear spiked. Josh bolted.

  Juggling bags of groceries, he fled across the parking lot, almost losing his footing as he looked over his shoulder at the unraveling chaos. It felt surreal watching young and old choosing to spread the pathogen. He understood, they were desperate to survive, but as his mother said, that didn’t make it right. It was selfish but then that had been the history of the human race. Survival of the fittest.

  Josh made it to his bike and was filling one of the backpacks he’d taken with him when he heard heavy footfalls approaching fast.

  He didn’t even think twice, he grabbed the Glock and swung around.

  “Whoa!” a guy cried out, lifting his hands in the air. “I’m not infected.”

  “Stay back!” Josh shouted from behind his visor. His voice came out muffled but his actions were clear.

  The ginger-headed guy was middle-aged. “I just need a ride.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  “C’mon man,” he said, looking back at the crowd.

  Josh fired a round at his feet. “I won’t tell you again.”

  The sound caught the attention of others in the lot. Some fled, others headed in his direction. Were they infected? He wasn’t sticking around to find out. The ginger guy darted east and weaved around cars as Josh stuffed the last bag into the second backpack. He zipped it up and put one on his back and his arms through the other so that it was resting against his chest. He climbed onto the bike and kick-started it to life.

  All the while he could see people heading his way.

  Some were young, others old. It wasn’t like they were dealing with only old people. Newly infected had more than enough time to infect others. And a hell of a lot more energy. He spun the bike around, burning rubber as he buzzed away, glancing in his mirror.

  Behind his visor, his breathing was heavy.

  His chest rising and falling fast.

  The image of people spreading the pathogen blazed in his mind.

  Chapter Seven

  July 5

  The door of the barn started shaking. It was made from flimsy wood that had weathered over the years, so it wouldn’t take much to break it if someone wanted to attack in the middle of the night. The shaking was loud enough to get her mind racing.

  “Josh, Josh,” Lily said, shaking him.

  They’d bedded down for the night in an old barn a few miles from his fath
er’s house. He figured it would keep them out of the wind, and there was enough hay to provide a soft bed. While he wasn’t asleep, he was beginning to drift into that state between sleep and being awake, seeing images form in his mind of places less dangerous than the world they were now in.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  He lifted his head and listened.

  “It’s just the wind. Go back to sleep.”

  He adjusted the handful of hay that he was using as a pillow for the night. He’d covered it in his leather jacket and created a barrier of haystacks around them just in case someone came up to the second tier. The dirt bike was in one of the horse stalls down below, covered with hay. “Josh.”

  He groaned. “What?” he said, revealing his frustration.

  “Ryan is your dad, yes?”

  “Biologically. I guess you could say that.”

  A moment later. “Is he mine?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her. There was very little light filtering through the slats of wood. He could just make out the features of her small face. “Does it matter?”

  “Well, it’s just that mom never told me anything about him.”

  “Trust me, Bean, you’re not missing out.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Well, how do you know?”

  He opened them again. “I just do. Now go to sleep.”

  Josh was almost anticipating her asking another question. He knew her well enough that once she latched on to something, she didn’t stop talking about it until she understood.

  “He seemed nice.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said without opening his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ugh.” He wiped a hand across his face and looked at her, pulling himself up onto his side. “Take for instance this event. People could look like they’re eighteen, thirty, or fifty, but they could be younger. I mean if they have the pathogen. You might meet someone who seems friendly enough and they look my age, for instance, but they could be your age in reality.”