Happy Birthday to You (Birthday Trilogy, Book 3) (22 page)

“Mom isn’t telling me anything,” Kimber
said, and I could tell she was trying to control her sobbing, too. “It
happened… this morning… at his office….”

“He went to
work
?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what—”

“How stupid could he be?”

I threw the phone into Liesel’s lap. I
couldn’t take it anymore.
The pressures, the chaos, this
devastating blow.

“No…” I said. “Oh no, no, no, no…”

Liesel picked up the phone and brought
her hand to mine. “What is it, Cam? Are you OK?”

I just started weeping, my palms pressed
against my forehead, my fingers running through my hair. I saw two of my tears
hit the bottom of the steering wheel.

Liesel brought her hands up to my arm,
but I pushed her away, kicked open my car door, and made my way outside.

“Kimber?” Liesel asked, putting her ear
to the phone. “He’s going to… yeah… he’ll call you back.”

I walked away from the car, away from the
street, just traipsing through a large open meadow filled with brown grass and
sporadic flowers, trying to keep moving until my body would give out on me.
Liesel followed.

“Not my dad,” I said. “Not yet… not yet…
oh God…”

I collapsed into Liesel’s arms and
started violently sobbing into her chest. She held me tightly, her arms wrapped
around me, like it was last April, and I was a little baby she was carrying.

“I’m not
gonna
let you go, Cam,” she said. “I won’t let you go. I love you. I love you, and
we’re gonna get through this.”

“Why is she doing this, Leese…
”
I said, the tears flowing down my nose and cheeks. “Why is
she destroying everything that I love?”

“She’s not gonna destroy everything, do
you understand me? We have a chance, tomorrow, to put an end to this. All of
it.”

“Wait.” I stood up, wiped some dirt off
my pants, and took a step back, out of Liesel’s grasp. I just stared at her for
a moment, trying to put my thoughts together. “If we defeat Hannah… if we put
an end to her…”

Liesel looked away from me, a sign that
the response to my question wasn’t going to be a positive one.

“Everyone who died…” I continued. “Will
they… will they come back? Will time be reversed… will things go back to
normal?”

She shrugged. “Cam, Hannah has more power
than anyone in this world. And she’s using it for bad, not
good
.
I think it’s possible, almost probable, that when the spell is broken, everyone
who has aged, and who is still
alive
,
will be returned to
their
normal younger selves. But
those who have died…” She shook her head and looked back toward the car, then
back at me. “That’s a different story. I don’t think…”

“But you’re telling me it’s possible,” I
said, trying to keep a grasp on some hope.

“We can’t bring people back from the
dead. Trust me. I’ve tried. Hannah tried more. That’s something that’s
impossible
. When you’re dead… you’re
gone… even in the spiritual world… even with all our powers.”

I ran my hands through my hair and stared
down at the ground, a migraine hitting me at the least opportune moment. “I
don’t know what the hell to think anymore. I’m starting to wonder if any of
this is real. If this all just isn’t a big nightmare.”

“Cam… I guarantee you… this is a
nightmare. But it’s also very real. And it’s likely that bad things are going
to happen to a lot more people if we don’t make our way back to the car right
now and continue to our destination. We have to get further north. We have to
find my sister.”

I pushed my hands against my sides. I
licked my lips and tried to control my breathing. I didn’t have a mirror
anywhere near me, but I knew that my face had to be bright red.

“No,” I said.

“No?”

“No. We’re not just going to find your
sister. I’m going to take great pleasure in ripping her apart, end to end,
until there’s nothing left.”
“Cam—”

“That’ll stop this right.
If she dies?
If she’s dead, the spell is broken, right?”

She nodded. “Of course. But it’s not
gonna be a cakewalk to put her down.”

“Why? Because she’s your sister?”

“No.
Because she’s more
powerful than God.
She has enough power to destroy the world. A punch to
the stomach or a rock to the head just isn’t gonna cut it.”

“But the paintball guns… with the silver
paint…”

“I don’t know for sure,” Liesel said,
“but if the paint does anything like it did for me back in that dungeon, a few
shots straight to the heart will weaken her, if not kill her, right on the
spot.”

I could feel another wave of crying
coming on, but I looked at Liesel, then at the car, and knew we had to continue
on our long journey. “This is what I ask, Leese.”

“Anything.”

“Let me have the first shot at her.”

She nodded. “Of course. You can have
all
the shots if you want. Hannah means
nothing to me. She’s not family. She’s a terrorist. She’s the devil
reincarnate.”

“She’s going down,” I said, and started
making my way back to the car.

PRINCIPAL REEVES

“Honey, cheer up. We’re in Paris for
God’s sake.”

Bill tugged at his white robe, which
would have been luxurious if it weren’t for the odd pain in his back he had
been suffering for the last few hours.

“Honey,” he said, planting a kiss on his
newlywed Rebecca (his fourth wife, after Maureen, Janice, and Bethany), “I know
we’ve been a little secluded these last few days, but we’re not living under a
rock. The world could be crumbling in on itself, and all you seem to care about
is sex!”

“We’re on our honeymoon,” the petite and
plump ginger-haired woman said, pushing her body up against her husband’s to
try to get him in the mood yet again. “I don’t care if the core at the center
of the Earth is about to explode. I don’t want to keep my hands off you.”

Bill crossed his arms and walked across
their eighteenth-floor honeymoon suite, past the king bed, up to the gigantic
window that looked out over the city. “Something’s happening. I can feel it.
Haven’t you noticed how different we’ve looked in the last few days?”

“Yeah,” she said. “We look like two rabid
animals who can’t get enough!”

“I’m serious. I’d like to get my hands on
a newspaper. I’d like to just watch the news for a moment.”

“Hey,
you’re
the one who requested no television set. I was against that decision from the
beginning.”

“I mean, look,” Bill said, pointing
outside at the fires in the distance, as well as the helicopters and airplanes
circling up above. “That doesn’t look normal.”

“Oh, what’s normal, anyway? We’re in a
foreign country. Who knows how people live their lives here?” His wife wrapped
her arms around his mid-section and kissed him on his hairy chest. “It’s come
to my attention, from all the movies I’ve seen, that Paris is the most romantic
city on Earth. Come back to bed.”

“We haven’t left this hotel since we got
here on Friday,” Bill said. “Shouldn’t we do a little sightseeing?”

Rebecca took a step back and scoffed. “I
think what you want is a few hours away from your new bride.”

“That’s not what I’m saying…”

“You’re already sick of me. I see how it
is.”

She jumped on the bed, laid her head back
against a pillow, and stared up at the ceiling.

“That’s not it, honey,” Bill said.
“You’re being silly.”

And she was. Bill Reeves thought he had
finally found the one, after all. After thirty years of searching, he bumped
into Rebecca, a fourth grade teacher, at a committee conference in Carson City,
when he was asked to speak about the current economic state of education. As
Principal of Caughlin Ranch High School in Reno for the past eleven years, Bill
had earned great respect among teachers and super-intendants, but he never
intended his next wife to be a teacher. There was something special, however,
about Rebecca: her eyes, her hair, her laugh,
her
spontaneity. And her love of traveling didn’t hurt their blossoming
relationship either. Bill, who was now in his mid-fifties, had never traveled
abroad before, and had been excited about finally touring Paris
.
But the two had been there for three days and still hadn’t
left their hotel room. It was time to clean up, get pretty, and commit to some
overdue sightseeing.

“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?”