by Brian Rowe
Happy Birthday to You (Birthday Trilogy, Book 3)
by
Brian Rowe
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Brian Rowe
http://brianrowebooks.com
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PROLOGUE: THE PRESIDENT
He awoke from a nightmare and tried to catch his breath. He stared up at the ceiling, blinked, then rubbed his forehead with the palm of his right hand. He started breathing frantically through his nose, worried that in the final seconds of his terrifying dream he had screamed out for help: he didn’t need his Secret Service knocking the door down and tackling him to the floor with the worry that somebody was trying to hurt him.
He sat up and stretched his arms out, knowing that he had another packed day ahead. Turning to his left he noticed that his wife was already up and out of bed, probably eating a nutritious breakfast in the foyer and perusing through the newspaper. He was hungrier than normal, given that he hadn’t had a chance to eat a proper dinner last night. He also needed a giant glass of water, given that his throat was dry enough to make his occasional tonsillitis flare up again.
But before he would meet his wife for breakfast on this overcast Saturday morning, he knew that first there was something very important he had to do.
The President of the United States really had to pee.
He sat up, yawned, and glanced at the clock to see that it was a few minutes before 6 A.M. He slipped his comfy pair of slippers over his aching feet and started making his way across the bedroom, enjoying this rare moment of silence.
He stepped into the giant, beige bathroom and closed the door behind him. He had to step past a sink, a tub, and his wife’s scented candles to get to the toilet. He did his business and let out a long, satisfying sigh. His urine splashed against the toilet seat, but he wiped it up with some toilet paper and flushed.
The President yawned as he put on his silky black robe and headed into the kitchen, where he poured himself some coffee. Then he made his way into the small foyer, where his wife, already dressed up for the day, wearing a pink dress to match her bright lipstick, sat on the right side of the table drinking tea and enjoying a bowl of granola.
“Dressed already?” the President asked.
“I told you last night,” the First Lady said, “I’m headed to New York this morning. For the rest of the weekend actually.”
“For the—”
“The Women in Entertainment dinner. I won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
“Why not until tomorrow? That’s just a two-hour dinner, is it not? And why were you even invited? I wouldn’t necessarily call your position in this country a source of entertainment.”
“I don’t know, honey,” the First Lady said. “Oprah invited me. You don’t say no to Oprah.”
“I guess you don’t.”
The President didn’t notice that while he had been talking to his wife, a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and assorted fruit had been laid out in front of him. He took a giant bite of cantaloupe, then slurped down most of his morning coffee.
“Are you feeling all right?” the First Lady asked. “You look a little tired.”
“I got three hours of sleep, maybe four.”
“Sorry. Last night went a little long.”
“It did,” the President said. “I enjoyed that show, though. Down at Misner.”
His wife didn’t answer him for a few moments. Then she said, “Oh, yes, it was fine.”
“Those young musicians were excellent. I was impressed.”
“Mmm hmm,” she said. She took another sip of her tea. “Are you going to be OK without me here today?”
The President laughed and leaned in close to her, his mouth full of hash browns. “I think I’ll manage.”
She smiled and stood up from the table, grabbing her cell phone and handbag. “I should get going. Lots to do.”
“You’re telling me,” he said, and his wife leaned over and kissed him, tenderly, on the lips.
She stood back up and looked down at her husband, and he saw her smile disappear from her face. She looked at him for a moment as if his kiss had disgusted her.
“What?” he asked. “What is it?”
“Honey, you really need to start getting more sleep. Do you have any time to rest this weekend?”
“Today’s pretty well packed, a lot of meetings. Sunday’s a round of golf and a birthday dinner downtown.”
“Whose birthday?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember.” He brought his hands to his sides and pursed his lips. “So what are you trying to say, honey? Are you saying I don’t look my best this morning?”
“Well—”
“I haven’t taken a shower yet. You’re one upping me already.”
“It’s not your face,” she said. “It’s your hair. It’s…”
“No. Don’t say it.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s grayer.”
The President leaned back in his chair and sighed, trying with all his might not to bring his fists down against the table. “Before I was elected, I had no gray hair. By the time I leave, I’m gonna look like Santa Claus.”
The First Lady gave her husband another kiss, this time on the cheek, and just shook her head. “No. For that to happen, you’d have to get fat. And you better not gain another pound, mister.”
“Or what? You’ll leave me?”
“Try me.” She winked at him and started walking out of the room. “I’ll call you later tonight, OK? I love you.”
“I love you, too, honey. Have a safe flight.”
The President looked down at his plate and pushed it forward. He suddenly, though not inexplicably, didn’t feel hungry anymore. He had a new mission at the moment, one that didn’t involve his slowly dwindling hunger pains. He stood up, nearly knocking his chair down, and marched out of the room.
“Mr. President,” he heard someone from an open doorway whisper to him as he made his way to his bedroom.
He placed his hands up in the air and said, “Not now. In a minute.” He knew he had a lot to get done today, many goals to accomplish. But before he would go any further with his busy Saturday, he needed to see something for himself.
The President stepped back into his bedroom, locked the door, and moseyed on over to the massively large mirror on the right side of the room. He stood there for a few seconds, checking out his stylish bathrobe, before diverting his attention toward the mirror. He didn’t look different at all in the face, and for that he was grateful.
But then he took a step forward and pressed his fingers against the top of his head. His wife had been right. While he had been starting to go gray in the last few months, his hair in the mirror now emulated a fuzzy snowball. His hair had never been this gray before; in fact, it looked like his hair had doubled in grayness since he had gone to bed late last night.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
&n
bsp; Then he looked down at his bathrobe again, wondering about something else. He knew for sure it couldn’t be. But he had to see, anyway.
The President dropped the robe to the ground to reveal his belly. It was flat and toned as always—no problem there. But there was definitely something different about his chest hair, which before now had always been as black as the color of his skin.
His chest hair had turned gray, too.
“Oh my God,” he said. “It’s like I’m growing a year older by the minute.”
1.
My breakfast was cold, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t hungry. I imagined a lot of people were waking up this morning not very hungry. I knew Day One would be the easiest and most painless of all. We had one more day of normalcy. Day Two would be when people would start noticing. And then the trouble would begin.
Lots and lots and lots of trouble.
“Cameron,” my mom said, “eat your breakfast. It cost twenty-six dollars a person for God’s sake. You can eat more than a goddamn fruit cup.”
“Why did we have to do the buffet again?” I asked, crossing my arms and slinking down in my uncomfortable chair. “I told you, I wasn’t that hungry.”
“Cam, every time you don’t eat, your mother and I worry that something new is going on with you,” my dad said, sprinkling his eggs with salt and pepper. “You know… aging-wise.”
“Yeah,” my mom said. “Come to think of it, Liesel hasn’t eaten much either. You both look kind of miserable. What’s going on?”
I turned to my right to see Liesel, who faked a smile, pretending like everything was normal. She shook her head and started scarfing down a maple doughnut, even though I knew she hated anything fried.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Martin, really,” Liesel said. “It’s nothing.”
“You ran out of Kimber’s performance last night,” my mom said, now focusing all of her attention on Liesel. “That wasn’t nothing. Something’s going on with you two. Something secretive. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t know what’s you’re talking about, Mom,” I said. “I swear it’s fine.”
“Changing the subject!” my sister Kimber shouted, after tearing through most of her chocolate chip pancakes. “What did you guys think of my performance last night?”
We all diverted our attentions to Kimber, who was positively glowing at the end of the table, maple syrup dripping off her chin. Everyone remained silent, allowing me to say the following: “You were so amazing up there, Kimber. Luminous, even. You were perfect.”
Her cheeks went red, and I could see for a split second the younger, vulnerable sister I had grown up with, not the new confident teenager who spent her lunch breaks macking on random strangers in middle school storage closets.
I smiled at my sister, and, for a brief, joyous moment, I forgot about everything Liesel had told me at the fountain last night. I forgot about the fact that, starting today, everybody in the world was apparently going to start rapidly aging a whole year of his or her life with each passing day. Of course I hadn’t believed it. I knew Liesel, and especially her sister Hannah, had extraordinary powers, but a spell to put an end to humanity seemed like a stretch even to me, even after all the unthinkable calamity I’d experienced in the last fifteen months.
I also forgot, for a split second, that Liesel was pregnant. It was the kind of news that I would’ve been delighted to hear in… oh… ten years. And it didn’t help matters that Liesel dumped this major piece of news on me about ten seconds after telling me that the world was coming to an end, that is if she and I didn’t find her destructive sister and kill her in time. I assumed this task to be impossible. Impossible to find her. Impossible to stop her. Impossible to kill her. How would it be done? How could my normal self, and Liesel, whose powers had been stripped of her, compete with the all-powerful maniacal sister, who was strong enough now to take down the world?
Yes, I had forgotten all about these insurmountable problems for a second, watching Kimber’s face continue to stretch more and more with an infectious smile, as my mom and dad proceeded to complement her on her wonderful, pitch-perfect playing from last night, which, delightful news to Kimber, got a healthy round of applause just for her solo alone.
But those few seconds faded, and I was brought back to reality by witnessing the uncomfortable shouting taking place directly behind Kimber, at a large table that was seating at least a dozen people.
“Your booster seats aren’t big enough!” a woman in her thirties screamed at one of the waiters. “My daughter can’t fit!”
“Ma’am, I can assure you, all booster seats come in the same size—”
“We were just here two days ago! She fit fine! There’s something wrong with this booster seat!”
My parents and Kimber ignored the nearby argument, but Liesel and I were transfixed. I couldn’t help but dart my eyes toward Liesel. She was already staring at me, a panicked expression on her face that would’ve been comical if it weren’t so apparent that Hell was nearly upon us. This was the first piece of evidence that something devastating was beginning today. The booster seat would be too damn small for one baby. Two babies. Ten babies. A thousand babies.
And so it starts…
---
Our plane flight back to Reno wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow, so Liesel and I would have to suffer through a day of sightseeing in Washington D.C. I had been looking forward to this special weekend for months—I had never traveled to D.C. before—but I spent most of the day praying for Sunday to arrive so we could get back to Reno and start mapping out a game plan about that very big problem—Liesel’s pregnancy. Oh, and the end of the world.
We spent the morning touring the White House, but after an early, way too heavy lunch at an Italian restaurant called Francisca’s, I was able to convince my family to let me and Liesel tool around the city by ourselves before we would meet up again for a fancy dinner.
As soon as my mom, dad, and Kimber were out of earshot, Liesel and I started discussing the dreadful situation, the conversation intensifying with each passing minute. We decided to take an extra long walk toward the Capitol to give us time to hash out what was on our minds.
“I just… Leese…” I shook my confused, aching head. “You said you were on birth control.”
“I was, Cam.”
“I would’ve used a condom!”
“I know. I was surprised as you were—”
“You’re absolutely certain you’re pregnant? Like, have you seen a doctor yet?”
“No, not yet.”
I shrugged. “Then how do you know?” I watched as dozens of tourists sped past us, sensing tension in our voices and mannerisms.
“I took five pregnancy tests, Cam. Five.”
“Maybe they’re all wrong. I mean… you’re a witch, after all.”
She crossed her arms and stopped walking altogether. She leaned back against a black gate and sighed. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Let’s think about that, Leese. Maybe just… I don’t know… the end of the world?”
At least ten people darted me a confused look at that scary phrase. I just smiled at everyone, like there was nothing to worry about.
“Good, Cam. Let’s tell everyone. That won’t incriminate us at all.”
“You knew this was going to happen,” I said. “You knew it was coming. How can we possibly deal with a pregnancy right now?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, Leese… I’m saying…” I blinked a few times, noticing for the first time just how hot it was outside. I thought I might faint. “I’m saying… I need to lie down…”
I found a bench covered in shade just a few yards away, and I lay down on my back in a way that suggested I didn’t want to leave that spot for another hour. I rested my head against the armrest and stared up at the large trees above me.
“Cameron,” Liesel said, making her way up to me, “I know this is a lot to take in right now—”<
br />
“A lot to take in?” I turned to my right and just stared at Liesel for a moment, my eyes wide, drool forming at the edge of my bottom lip. “Nobody in the history of the universe has had to take something like this in! You tell me that you’re six weeks pregnant. And you tell me that everybody in the world, including everyone we know, is going to be dead in three months. How would you like me to react to all this, Leese? Smile? Jump for joy? You should be happy I haven’t thrown myself off a cliff! Seriously!”
Liesel sat down on the bench next to me and rested my legs on her lap. She didn’t say anything for a minute or two; we just sat in silence. I knew there was nothing she could say to make me feel better, to make either of us feel better.
As my headache started to fade, my tear ducts started to open up. For the first time since last night, I was able to understand the complexity of this situation, which was seemingly ripped out of a cheesy science fiction novel, but miraculously coming true before our eyes. “Leese, if this is really true, everybody is going to die. My parents… my sister… And the two of us are just gonna sit and… what… watch?”
“No. Of course not. Once we get back to Reno, we’re going to do everything we can to stop Hannah—”
“You could’ve stopped her that night! You had her in your grasp! Now millions of people are going to die!”
My throat was starting to ache from all my screaming. I rarely yelled at anyone, let alone my beloved Liesel. But this situation required a frantic, emotional diatribe.
“Cam, I never had a chance with her that night. She was too strong. She was going to kill me, and then she was going to kill Wesley, and then she was going to kill you. I told her she could take me, but let you live. I told her I’d do anything. She said the only way she’d let you live… was if I gave her all of my powers. What was I supposed to do? If I had tried to fight her any longer, I would’ve become weaker, she would’ve killed me, and she would’ve killed you, and we’d both be dead. And then this dilemma with everyone aging would’ve happened anyway. At least now we have a chance to stop her.”
