by Brian Rowe
AARON
“He’s a fifty-five-year-old bear, Aaron. Why in the hell would you want a date a guy that old, and that freakin’ big?”
Aaron laughed. “I like them older, James. How many times do I have to tell you? The guys our age? They’re pitiful. They’re so self-absorbed and stupid. I can’t stand them.”
“Yeah, but they’re cute,” James said. The kid was seventeen but tried to pass for twenty-one in San Francisco’s Castro District. He had skipped a grade and was weeks away from starting his freshman year at San Francisco State University. Aaron would soon be heading into his sophomore year.
“Cute only gets you so far.”
“It’s gotten me plenty far,” James said with a wink.
“Yeah, but at the end of the day, we all get older, and our looks fade. I find intelligence the sexiest trait of all. A man with a rich history, with a wealth of knowledge. That’s the turn-on! That’s the way to get into my pants! Not a smooth, dumb twink without any real world experience.”
“Well…” James didn’t seem to know what to say. “I beg to differ!”
“Fine,” Aaron said. “You can have the young ones. Leave the older ones to me.”
“You are sick.”
“I’m sick? You’re not even of age and you’re flaunting yourself to any guy that moves!”
“Yeah? Well how else would you have met me?”
Aaron laughed, stood up from the dumpy chair in his little apartment, and inspected himself in the mirror next to the front door. He had on a black pair of jeans with a purple long-sleeved shirt. It was supposed to rain later that night, so he made sure to grab the umbrella on top of the dresser.
James made his way over to Aaron and stared over his shoulder into the mirror. The two had only known each for two months but acted like they knew each other for a lifetime. James had bumped into Aaron at one of the many gay bars in the Castro District and tried to pick him up, but instead the two became friends and James became his roommate at the beginning of May.
James pressed his hands against Aaron’s arm. “I’m scared, Aaron.”
“I know. I am, too.”
“You say I try to be of age. But the truth is… I don’t need to try anymore. Look at me. I look like I’ve aged ten years in the last ten days.”
Aaron wanted to tell James the remarkable true story of his high school friend Cameron Martin, who he had played basketball with, who he had jokingly asked out to the prom, and who had aged seventeen to eighty-five last year, and eighteen to one in April. When Aaron threw Cameron his bachelor party, he was astonished to see a young man no older than eleven being straddled by the big-breasted strippers. And now, just a few weeks later, it seemed like everyone was starting to catch his occasional disease. It was too early to suggest that what was happening was an outbreak of some kind, but Aaron was trying his best to keep living the best he could, as if there was nothing wrong. Cameron hadn’t hid under a rock last year when he had to face the entire student body as a fifty-year-old, sixty-year-old, seventy-year-old; he had resumed his life as if he was just like any other student at Caughlin Ranch High. Aaron liked to follow that thinking, even though, on the inside, he was terrified.
Aaron turned around and grabbed the sweet but naïve James by the hands, as if, for a brief moment, he wanted to act patriarchal. “We’re going to be OK. I promise you. What’s happening to us… well… it’s actually happened before. I was a witness to it. And everything turned out all right. I swear, it’s all going to turn out OK this time.”
“People are freaking out, Aaron. They think it’s the end of the world.”
“That’s absurd!”
“Well, how do you know?”
“I just do,” Aaron said. “And trust me. Whatever’s going on, there’s a logical explanation. For all of it.”
James looked like he wanted to start crying, but he just nodded and picked his nose, not discreetly, as he made his way back to the couch to continue the first half of 17 Again on TBS.
Aaron quietly tiptoed out of the apartment and didn’t turn back to say goodbye.
The older man’s apartment was across town, but Aaron liked the idea of taking a long walk. He had been chatting with this guy back and forth for two weeks now, and felt excited to finally meet him. He needed something to take his mind off what was going on in the world. He needed an intimate connection with another person, even if just for tonight. He hoped he could hit it off with this guy. He knew his desire to be with older men was a turn-off for many, but Aaron was bound and determined to meet someone who he could make a life with. And with each day quickly passing, Aaron was starting to wonder just how much more of a life he had left to look forward to, considering he now looked much older than nineteen.
The guy’s name was Stacy—an odd name for a man, but again, this was someone of another generation—and Aaron had met him on one of the dozen gay personal web sites he perused on a daily basis. Right from their first conversation online, this one had seemed different: he didn’t just want a younger guy over for thrills and giggles. He seemed to really want to get to know Aaron, on a level that existed outside of his skin. Stacy had been kind and witty and surprising, and their conversations became fascinating as the days progressed. Best of all, Stacy had been somebody Aaron could turn to for comfort.
Aaron made a left turn, then another left turn, then three right turns. He didn’t recognize the narrow street he was on, but he knew he was close. He took a deep breath, smacked his lips together, and ran up a long staircase to Stacy’s four-story apartment complex. The place was narrow but cute. Aaron hoped Stacy was on the top floor. He always loved being able to look out over a city.
He texted Stacy and waited for the main door to be buzzed open. But nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Aaron finally decided to call the man’s cell. Even though he rarely called anyone anymore—he preferred to hide behind words by texting or communicating online—he decided he’d rather call the man than stand outside in the cold for the rest of the night. The call went to voice-mail.
Now Aaron was frightened. Something was wrong. He just stood there, dumbfounded, knowing that two days ago they had agreed that Aaron would meet Stacy at this spot, on this night, at this exact time.
“Stacy?” Aaron shouted, his hands covering the sides of his mouth so the yell could travel upward as far as possible. “St—”
And just then, a figure stepped out the front of the apartment.
Aaron stopped when he saw that the figure was an older woman, holding her dog, which was barking incessantly. Aaron didn’t stay put. He raced up and grabbed the door, just before it locked shut.
He caught his breath, then turned to his right, where a large staircase met his gaze. He didn’t know the apartment number, but, thankfully, there seemed to only be eight units in the four-story building. He knocked on the first two doors and was met with nothing but silence. He found silence on most of the doors, and the ones who answered them were both younger people, both with looks of terror on their quickly aging faces. When Aaron found the top floor, he felt hopeless. He started to wonder if this Stacy was even a real person.
Aaron knocked on the door on the right, and found himself face to face with an older man wearing pink pajamas and a light green scarf around his neck. He was also wearing lipstick.
“Uhh…” Aaron hoped this wasn’t him. But he figured it had to be. “Uhh, Stacy?”
The man laughed. “Across the way, honey.”
He slammed the door in his face. “Oh, thank God,” Aaron said.
Aaron knocked on the door of Room 402 across the way. There was no answer. He knocked again.
After his fifth round of knocking, it looked like nobody was coming to the door. He darted his eyes toward his phone. There was still no text from Stacy.
Aaron was about to head back downstairs, when his hand inexplicably grabbed hold of the doorknob. He hadn’t even meant to touch it. It was as if his brain had a mind of its own. He twiste
d the knob, and the door opened right up.
“Oh… uhh…” Aaron stepped inside to see an apartment as neat and tidy as any he’d ever seen. “Stacy? It’s me. It’s Aaron. Are you here?”
No answer. He couldn’t even hear footsteps.
Aaron decided to walk inside. He thought it odd that a man as seemingly smart as Stacy would keep his door unlocked. He closed the door, made his way to the living room area, and turned to his left to see a light on in the back.
“Stacy? Are you here? Please say something.”
Now Aaron wasn’t so concerned with Stacy’s well-being; he was concerned about his own. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually talked to Stacy on the phone, so he didn’t know his voice. This man, seriously, could’ve been anyone. And he was starting to wonder if heading over to this man’s apartment had been a really bad idea.
Aaron almost made it to the bedroom, when a softer light grabbed his attention on the right. The kitchen table was set up with two pasta dishes, two waters, a bottle of wine, half a dozen candles, and a bed of roses. The setting was truly intimate, unlike any other Aaron had experienced on a date with another man. Stacy had expected him after all; this was proof.
“Hello?”
Aaron stepped back toward the man’s bedroom, but he wasn’t in there, either. The bed was perfectly made, and a pillow with a large heart symbol was placed in the center. His walls were lined with bookshelves, with hundreds of titles placed on all four walls of the room. Aaron’s mouth dropped open. Stacy hadn’t been lying. He really was well read, as well as a bright scholar; awards and certificates lined the area above the doorsill.
Aaron stepped back into the hall. He’d investigated every room. Every room but the bathroom.
“Stacy?” Aaron asked, slowly pushing the bathroom door forward.
He had to try real hard not to scream.
Stacy sat on the toilet, his pants wrapped around his ankles. He was leaned forward, his head resting up against the shower door in front of him.
He looked like he had been dead for hours.
Aaron started crying. He couldn’t just leave him there. He didn’t know whether to call the police or to call James. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
So he just stepped forward, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around the man. Stacy didn’t look to be in his fifties anymore. He looked close to seventy.
But Aaron didn’t care. He knew that this all-powerful aging disease, the same one that hit Cameron last year, had just ravaged Stacy’s body. Right in front of Aaron was proof that this disease wasn’t going away anytime soon. It was, officially, here to stay.
“It’s going to kill us,” Aaron said, his tears falling against Stacy’s pale white cheeks. “It’s going to kill us all.”
10.
Who the hell is that?
“Umm, Leese?” I shouted across the way. Liesel was almost to Yolanda’s car. She didn’t seem to hear me.
The footsteps got louder. And I could feel the terror rising throughout my body, from my cold shoes to my angry stomach, from my scratchy throat to my pulsating forehead. I knew in my heart of hearts that the only person who could possibly be heading into the cavern right now was Hannah, in all her evil glory, in her magical, vindictive flesh.
The footsteps were headed even closer, and they were coming faster.
I turned to my right to see Yolanda stepping out of her car and heading back over to me, Liesel following her.
I had to strain my ears to hear their conversation, but thankfully there was enough echo in the cavern for me to catch what they were saying.
“Who were you calling?” Liesel asked.
“Nobody,” she said. “I was checking in with my boyfriend in San Diego to let him know my mission here was almost complete.”
“Your mission isn’t over, Yolanda. It’s far from over!”
“I need him to know I’m OK,” Yolanda said, still walking fast. “What’s the harm in that?”
“The harm is that I don’t believe you!”
The sisters stopped and turned to each other, and at that moment the figure appeared from the shadows at the corner of the cavern.
It wasn’t Hannah.
It was someone I’d never seen before.
“What… is… this…” the middle-aged man said upon entering the cavern. He looked like a professional hiker, what with the sleeping bag, backpack, and multiple tools hooked along his body. His hair was long, and his face was dirtied up, like he hadn’t bathed in a week.
How did this guy find us? I couldn’t help but ask myself.
The man turned to me, a genuine appearance of unabashed wonderment on his face. “And who are you?”
I just stared at him. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer.
But before I could, I heard movement coming from the right of me.
“Shit,” Yolanda said. I could see her out of the corner of my eye rushing toward me, faster and faster, Liesel chasing after her. As she got closer, I suddenly realized she wasn’t aiming for me—she was running toward the hiker.
As Yolanda passed me, leaping up and down like an experienced high jumper, her phone fell out of her pocket and to the dirt below me. I didn’t have enough time to pick it up, though. Liesel had already raced up to me and grabbed the phone herself.
“Hello…” the middle-aged man said, taking a few steps back, not sure if Yolanda was running toward him to hug him or hurt him. I wasn’t really sure, either. “My name is Ben Gaspin…”
“You’re gonna be gasping for air in a minute here, buddy,” Yolanda said before pushing him down to the ground.
Did she say what I think she said?
“Oh my God!” I screamed. “Yolanda! What are you doing?”
“Yolanda! Don’t hurt him!” Liesel was screaming even louder than I was. Our yells echoed across the cavern.
“Please… don’t… don’t hurt me,” the man said as Yolanda pulled him up to her level. She had a strong grasp on his neck from behind.
“What the hell is she doing?” I asked Liesel.
“I have no idea,” she said, her eyes not on Yolanda or the hiker, but on the phone in front of her.
“He’s seen us, clear as daylight!” Yolanda shouted. “He has to go!”
“No!” the hiker shouted. “Please! I’ve seen nothing!” I couldn’t believe how weak this man was, considering he was an experienced hiker.
Or maybe Yolanda’s stronger than I thought.
“What?” I stepped forward toward the two, confused and scared as to what Yolanda might do.
Before I could get close enough to stop her, Yolanda had a knife pulled on the man. I opened my mouth to scream again, but no words came out. I watched in horror as Yolanda slashed the hiker’s throat. As blood started spewing everywhere, the man gave me a haunting look that seemed to ask: what did I do to deserve this?
He slumped to the ground, face first. He was dead.
“What…” I just stood in my place, aghast. “Yolanda… what did you… what did you do…”
Yolanda dropped the knife next to his body and stepped toward me. “Nobody can know what we’re doing down here. I feel sorry for the guy, but there was no way we could let him live.”
“But… he didn’t see anything…”
“He could’ve seen you performing your magic!” Yolanda shouted.
“And no one would’ve believed him!”
“Too big of a risk to take,” she said, shaking her head.
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
I turned to my right. Liesel walked toward me, her head down, as if she was lost in thought.
“Alicia,” Yolanda said, turning to her sister, “you agree with me, right?”
“Of course I do. Cameron, she’s right.”
“She’s not right!” I stared at Liesel in disbelief. I couldn’t believe she was being nonchalant about what had been committed. “The man was innocent!”
“I’m gonna inspect the body,�
�� Liesel said, passing us by and heading over to the man, who had blood seeping out from under his face and neck.
Yolanda grabbed my arms and pulled me closer. For a second I thought she might try to hurt me, too. “This is war, Cameron. Do you understand that? The only way we’re going to win is if we stay hidden, if we don’t draw attention to ourselves. You think I don’t know about what you and Liesel did at your high school graduation? The whole world knows! You two floated in the air for close to a minute, and I’m still shocked no one did anything about it! These powers Liesel once had, that you have now? They’re sacred. And they can’t be found out, not from anyone. I don’t care who that guy was. If he had been a child, I would’ve killed him, too. We can’t let our secret out, understand? If we have any chance at defeating Hannah, we’re—”
“Gonna have to kill you, too,” Liesel said, slamming a shovel down on top of Yolanda’s head. Yolanda groaned—a kind of “hmph” sound—and fell back against the dirt.
Now I was really stumped. “What the hell?”
Liesel shoved her foot against Yolanda’s abdomen, and screamed, “Who have you been talking to?”
Yolanda shook her head, fear plastered all over her face. “Wh… What…”
“Answer me!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
Liesel showed her the cell phone, and the Caller ID history. “The last thirteen calls you’ve made have been to Hannah. How could you do this to me, Yolanda? How could you do this to me and Cameron?”
“Alicia, you don’t understand…”
“You’re on Hannah’s side?”
“Of course not!”
Liesel kneeled down, grabbed the shovel, and raised it up top Yolanda’s head. “You want it in the face this time?”
“No!” Yolanda shouted.
“Then answer me.”
“I will.”
Liesel waited. “Well?”
Yolanda looked at me, then back at Liesel. “Could you lean in close? I don’t want Cameron to hear.”
Liesel looked at me with suspicion, then kneeled down toward Yolanda’s mouth.
