Happy Birthday to You (Birthday Trilogy, Book 3) (23 page)

“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 stared 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.