Happy Birthday to You (Birthday Trilogy, Book 3)

by Brian Rowe

  “I’m taking a shower,” Bill said. “And you better take it with me.”

  Rebecca sat up and chuckled. “I’m not gonna say no to that!”

  After the two washed up and made sure they had everything they needed, they stepped out of the top floor suite and headed to the lobby, trying their best to prove they weren’t going to be agoraphobic for yet another day. They were in Paris, after all, and they were going to make the most of it. Bill nodded to the doorman on the ground floor, while Rebecca darted her eyes around the large entryway.

  As they stepped out into the blinding sunlight, Rebecca said, “That was weird.”

  “What?”

  “It was totally empty in there. Except for the doorman, and one person at the front desk. Isn’t that strange?”

  “Why is that strange?”

  “Shouldn’t there be more people in the hotel?”

  Bill took Rebecca’s hand and smiled. “We’re in Paris, sweetheart. People are either sightseeing, or hibernating in their rooms doing God-knows-what. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal. Especially in this city. Come on. Let’s find a patisserie.”

  Rebecca smiled back at him and took a deep breath. “Sounds like a plan.”

  The two enjoyed a quiet, comforting mid-meal snack at a charming little patisserie that offered eclairs, croissants, macarons, and something called a bichon au citron. Rebecca was particularly curious about all the pastries on display, but the woman behind the counter didn’t look interested in having a conversation; instead, she looked like she wanted to start crying. Bill and Rebecca figured it was something to do with them being Americans, so they decided to just order a couple of the chocolate croissants and keep to themselves.

  By the time the afternoon arrived, Bill and Rebecca were walking hand in hand down a street with cozy little townhomes surrounding them. When they reached the next intersection, the magnificent sight of the Eiffel Tower surprised them to their left.

  “Oh my God,” Rebecca said, “it’s more beautiful in person.”

  “Let’s go,” Bill said. “I’ll race you!”

  “Race me?”

  Bill started jogging down the adjacent street, all the way toward the bridge in the distance that would lead them to the Eiffel Tower. He knew he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and that a run that lasted longer than two minutes would probably give him a heart attack, but being in this amazing city was making him feel like a kid again.

  “Hurry!” Bill shouted, and he turned around to see her trying her best, but definitely dragging behind. He hadn’t thought about the fact that Rebecca was about thirty pounds overweight. “Come on, honey!”

  “What’s the freaking rush?”

  “It’s the Eiffel Tower! One of the most gorgeous monuments in the world!” He waved to her to move faster, and that seemed to antagonize her even more. But the more Bill ran, the better he felt—surprisingly—and he found himself running all the way up to the famous structure. He finally stopped underneath and tried to catch his breath as he waited for Rebecca, who was still way out in the distance, speed walking toward him, angrily.

  Bill wiped his forehead and turned to his right. He was struck by the lack of people around. While this was his first trip to Paris, he figured the Eiffel Towel would be one of the landmark destinations for any tourist. But he could only see a dozen people, if that. Worst of all, everybody seemed to be crying.

  “American?” a husky male voice asked behind him.

  “Yes?” Bill turned around to see a homeless man, decked out with a large sandwich board over his body, which read something in French.

  “Je suis desolee,” the man said, patting Bill on the back. He kept walking, leaving Bill to ponder what the man had meant.

  “Billy!” Rebecca shouted as she got closer to her husband. “Bill, that wasn’t funny. And it wasn’t fun, either. My God!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “You know, a little work-out’s good for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You keep talking like that and I’ll divorce your sorry ass in a millisecond.” She looked around and clearly had the same initial reaction he did. “Where the hell is everybody?”

  “I know. It’s a ghost town.”

  “I mean, it’s not the weekend,” she said. “But still. This is kind of scary. This is the real Paris, right? Not a knock-off?”

  “This is the real thing. And the real Eiffel Tower.”

  “Well, whatever,” she said, tugging onto Bill’s hand and charging forward toward the main booth. “Maybe it means we can have the top of the tower all to ourselves!”

  Bill smiled. “Now wouldn’t that be something.”

  The two approached the main booth to pay for tickets to go up the tower stairs, but nobody was there. It was pitch black inside, suggesting there were no services for the tower today.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bill said. “We finally come out of hiding, and then it’s the one day where they close the tower.”

  “I figured this thing would be like Disneyland,” Rebecca said. “Shouldn’t it be open every day?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know…” Bill trailed off for a moment, darting his eyes up toward the first platform. “Hey, wait a second.”

  “What?”

  “Look.”

  They looked up to the first platform to see a figure walking from one side to the other.

  “Somebody’s up there,” Bill said. “Come on, let’s go up.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course! Climbing this thing should be free anyway, since there aren’t any elevators in service.”

  “You’re right,” she said, although Bill could see she really didn’t want to hoof it up all those flights of stairs. “We’re here, I guess. Might as well.”

  “Come on.”

  The first few flights of stairs didn’t make Bill’s feet ache as much as he thought they would, but as they climbed to the second tier of the tower, he was embarrassed by all of his huffing and puffing.

  But it wasn’t as loud as the wheezing coming from Rebecca behind him. “I can’t go any further,” she said. “It’s too high.”

  “We’re almost there, come on.”

  “You gonna carry me?”

  Bill just shook his head. But he grabbed Rebecca’s hand and pulled her anyway, and she followed. A minute later they were on the second tier of the Eiffel Tower and looking out over the city.

  “Wow!” Rebecca shouted.

  “See? Wasn’t it worth it!”

  “Sure was.”

  “Can we go up to the top?”

  They glanced at the nearby elevator, which wasn’t in use.

  “Nope,” Bill said. “I guess this is as high as we go.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Look,” Bill said, pointing to the other side of the tier. “There’s that guy. He’s all alone.”

  They looked over to see a young man, maybe late twenties, admiring the view on the other side of the tower. When the guy turned around, Bill noted that he looked pasty white in the face and was thin as a rail, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

  But he didn’t think anything of it and instead turned back to their awe-inspiring view. He pulled his wife close and kissed her on the cheek. “See? This is perfect. A Parisian getaway. It was exactly what we needed.”

  He waited for a lovey-dovey response, but Rebecca didn’t give him one. Instead, she pointed in the distance.

  “Is that a fire?”

  Bill looked out. He could see a rather large building in the distance burning to a crisp, smoke rising in the air. More ominous, there was another building on fire a few miles west of that one.

  “Yeah, I saw that earlier from our hotel,” Bill said. “I hope everybody’s OK.”

  “You hope what?” a sad-stricken voice asked behind them.

  Bill and Rebecca turned around to see the young man stepping closer to them, his eyes bloodshot, his hair dirtied and unwashed. He looked like death.

  “Excuse me,” Bill said. “
Can we help you?”

  “Is it possible?” the young man asked. “Have you two not heard what’s going on?”

  They both shook their heads.

  The young man shook his head, dumbfounded. “You two been living under a rock or something?”

  “Kind of,” Bill said. “What’s going on? What don’t we know?”

  “The world is ending,” the young man said. “Everybody’s dying.”

  Bill and Rebecca stared at him with confusion. Finally, Bill said, “What?”

  “The Pope is gone, the Queen is dead, the President of the United States has gone AWOL. Everybody’s aging, faster and faster, and nobody knows why.”

  “How old are you?” Rebecca asked.

  He smiled, showcasing a large overbite. “Twelve next month.”

  “What?” Bill and Rebecca said at the same time.

  “Looks like I won’t be making it that far, though,” he said, taking a few steps forward. “Doesn’t look like anybody is going to be making it to their birthdays next month.”

  “So wait… what you’re saying is…” Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It wasn’t just my imagination. I am older.”

  “A lot older,” he said. “We’re growing a whole year older with every day. Today, though, seems like the disease is moving faster. Because now I’m looking like I’m thirty years old.”

  “Honey, it’s like one of my former students,” Bill said, turning to Rebecca. “It’s like Cameron Martin. This is what happened to Cameron Martin.”

  “The kid with the aging disease,” Rebecca said. “I remember you telling me about him.”

  The young man leaned up against the ledge. “You two newlyweds?”

  Bill and Rebecca nodded. They decided, just by glancing at each other, that they’d had their fill of the Eiffel Tower. Now they just wanted to get out of there, and find themselves an American newspaper, or, better yet, a flight home.

  “That’s nice,” the young man said. “I wanted to get married one day.”

  They turned to him with looks of melancholy, neither one of them knowing what to say. They could see the immense sadness in his face, like he had nothing left to look forward to.

  The young man shrugged. “Oh well. What’s that phrase? Only the good die young, right?”

  Bill and Rebecca didn’t know what he meant by this, but before they could react, the young man rolled up onto the ledge and jumped away from the tower.

  “Oh my God!” Rebecca shouted, bringing her hands to her mouth and turning toward her husband.

  Bill didn’t say anything, and he didn’t look down. He started breathing heavily, pulling Rebecca close to him.

  “I have a feeling…” he whispered, “that somehow, someway… Cameron Martin’s a part of this.” They stared into each other’s eyes, hers stained with tears, his dry but compassionate, and mostly hopeful. “And if he is, I hope to God he knows how to stop it.”

  13.

  “Damn it,” I said, glancing at the fuel.

  “What?”

  “We’re low. Less than a quarter tank.”

  “We’re gonna have to stop sometime,” Liesel said, trying to keep herself comfortable in the passenger seat. “Let’s find a gas station. One where there’s not a lot of people around.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Liesel held my hand for a moment, then brought her fingertips up to my cheeks. “You OK?”

  “I’m OK,” I said. “I was OK three minutes ago, and five minutes ago, and ten minutes ago, and—”

  “Well I can drive if you want,” Liesel said.

  “No, I need to drive. I need to keep my mind on the road and not on other things. If I stay in the passenger seat, I’ll go crazy. Trust me.”

  “OK,” she said. “As long as—” Liesel stopped and just stared ahead.

  “What?”

  “How fast are you going?”

  “Why?”

  I looked to my left just in time to see a cop car come racing by in the other direction. My jaw dropped, as I realized I hadn’t been paying attention to the speedometer. I looked down and sighed, seeing that I was going 85 M.P.H. in a 65 zone.

  I looked in my rearview mirror to see the cop car swerve to the right and flip a U-turn. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “I don’t believe it,” I said.

  “Oh shit,” Liesel said, glancing back. “The body, Cam. What are we gonna do with the body?”

  “What can we do?”

  I looked back to see Dr. Rice’s body not well hidden under a thin blanket.

  “Put stuff on top of him, Leese,” I said. “Anything. Our suitcases, the bags with the paintball guns. Hurry. Now.”

  I looked in the rearview mirror to see the cop car approaching me, the lights flashing bright. I tried to remain calm as I slowly pulled my car over to the side of the road and came to a complete stop.

  “This could be bad,” Liesel said.

  “Just be calm,” I said. “Quiet and calm.”

  I glanced again in the rearview mirror to see two officers in the cop car, a man in the driver’s seat and a woman in the passenger’s seat. The man, wearing a pair of sunglasses, stepped out of the car, revealing a six-foot physique and an unfortunate case of baldness. He sauntered over to my driver’s side window like he had all the time in the world.

  “Afternoon,” the officer said. “Are you aware how fast you were going back there?”

  I swallowed, loudly, and tried to smile. “I’m sorry. Was I speeding, Officer?”

  “Speed limit’s sixty-five. You were going ninety.”

  “Ninety?” I shook my head and sighed. “I’m so sorry. This is unlike me, I swear.”

  The officer nodded and took a few steps forward. He examined my windshield for a moment. I couldn’t understand why.

  When he returned, a frown plastered on his unattractive, droopy face, I knew more bad news was headed my way.

  “Sir, are you aware it’s illegal to have tinted windows in the state of California?”

  I squinted. “Excuse me?”

  “Your car,” the officer said. “It has tinted windows.”

  I glanced at Liesel, confused, then back at the cop. “Well, we live in Nevada. This is how the car was when I bought it. I didn’t put in any—”

  “I’m gonna have to write you up a ticket for that as well,” he said. “Just hang tight a moment while I write your two tickets.”

  He made his way back to his car, like he was all high and mighty, a God-like figure unaware that he was delaying the only two people who could stop the end of the world. He leaned his back against the side window, writing up the tickets, clearly enjoying so, not knowing that these might be the last tickets he would ever write in his soon-to-be-over lifetime.

  “What are we gonna do?” I asked. “This is nuts.”

  “At least he didn’t see the body,” Liesel said. “He didn’t even look back there.”

  “Yeah, I guess we can be happy for that.”

  I glanced at my rearview mirror again to see, this time, the woman in the car stepping outside, and stretching. She said a few words to the other cop, then started sauntering up to my car, this time on the passenger side.

  “Oh great,” I said. “Now what?”

  She tapped on Liesel’s window, and she rolled it down. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry,” the female officer said. “I just noticed that your right taillight is out.”

  “What?”

  “Your right taillight? You’re going to have to get that replaced.”

  “Oh, OK,” Liesel said.

  “No problem,” I added.

  “We’re going to have to write you up for that, too,” the female cop said with a condescending smile. “Have a nice day!”

  She waved at us, as if we were supposed to wave back. All I wanted to do was wave back with an extended middle finger.

  The woman turned to her left, but stopped, abruptly. She pulled down her sunglasses and star
ed into the back seat.

  “Wayne?” she said pretty loud, waving the other cop to come toward her.

  “What?”

  “Come look at this.”

  I started rubbing my eyes, annoyed, exhausted, in total disbelief. Liesel looked forward and tried not to scream with panic.

  “This is bad,” I whispered.

  “This isn’t bad, Cam,” she said. “This is a nightmare.”

  The woman tapped on the back window and pointed, and the male officer approached my side window again.

  “Sir, can I ask you to open the back of your vehicle?”

  I was exhausted from the stress of the last three minutes. “What for?” I asked.

  “Just open the back. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

  I nodded and smiled, and the officer walked toward the back.

  I looked at Liesel. We were both clearly thinking the same thing. “You trust me?” I asked.

  “Of course I do.”

  “I won’t have a conscience about this,” I said. “Because this is for the sake of all humanity.”

  Liesel nodded, brought her hands up to her mouth, and closed her eyes.

  “Here we go,” I said.

  The officer knocked on the back window. “I said, open up the back! Now!”

  But I didn’t open the back. Instead I turned on the ignition and floored the petal to the medal, going from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. I literally left the two cops in the dust as I sped down the road, watching in my rearview mirror as the two cops ran back to their car, the female one shouting into a walkie talkie, most assuredly requesting back-up.

  “Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse,” Liesel said.

  “Sure it could’ve,” I said. “They could’ve killed us.”

  I drove faster and faster, from sixty to seventy, from eighty to ninety. I topped off at ninety-five, and I assumed going any less than that would have me face to face with the California police force quicker than I could say, “but, please, I need to save the world!”