The Aging: A Novel

by Jack Hunt

  Chapter Thirty

  The wetlands blurred in his peripheral vision. Ryan drove like a maniac. His only saving grace was there were no cops on the road. Plus, the owner had stocked up on gas. When he was retrieving the spare he found two five-gallon canisters, which meant they wouldn’t need to stop for the next two and a half hours.

  That’s how long it would take to get where they were going.

  Madeline, on the other hand, hadn’t been as fortunate.

  They found the truck twenty miles outside of Freeport on I-10 just before Milton. Under the canopy of the night, he didn’t see it. Ren did. “Go back. That’s the truck,” she said.

  He slammed the brakes on and the back end fishtailed. He did a fast U-turn and came to a stop in front of it. Heart racing, Ryan hurried over. A spark of hope ignited, a moment that maybe she’d come to her senses and decided to dump the truck with Josh inside. The keys were still in the ignition.

  Nope.

  It was empty.

  “Ryan. Over here.”

  Ren was at the back of the truck, her flashlight beam shining down on a body. “And here,” she said, shining it on deep tire marks in the soil leading off onto the interstate. Ren went out into the middle of the road and noticed shards from a headlight on the ground along with brass. Multiple rounds had been fired. It was beginning to look like she’d hijacked someone. Possibly opened fire on a vehicle heading westbound.

  They got back in the Cutlass, tires spinning out as he peeled off into the night.

  No words were exchanged. What could be said? His mind turned to the worst possible outcome. It wasn’t just being infected. It was Madeline turning the gun on Josh.

  Every minute of the way he kept looking at the clock. Time couldn’t move fast enough.

  When he finally swerved into the parking lot outside Buc-ee’s, the same vehicles were outside, along with a few others. Ryan brought the car to an abrupt stop, killed the engine, and took the keys with him. He dashed inside, handgun at the ready. “Josh! Josh! You go that way. I’ll go over there,” he said to Ren. He kept a firm grip on Lily’s hand, guiding her through the aisles.

  Their voices echoed as they called his name.

  It was Ren who found him, on the east side in the same bathroom that Stephen had used.

  “Ryan!”

  He bolted toward her, looking at the expression on her face.

  Was he dead?

  As he flew past her, he only caught a little of what she said before entering the bathroom.

  Josh was on the ground, back to the wall, legs tucked up against his chest. Bloody paper towels were surrounding him. His one hand was on the back of his head as if he was stemming the bleeding. His eyes were swollen red from crying. He wiped the tears away, his cheeks flushing red. “Don’t come any closer!”

  Lily tried to pull away to go to him but Ryan held her back.

  “Josh, you’re bleeding,” she said.

  “Get her out of here, Ryan.”

  “But Josh—”

  “Get out!”

  Ryan bent down. “Lily, will you wait outside?”

  “Why can’t I stay here?” Lily looked distraught. Ten years old, she wasn’t stupid. She’d seen enough to know where this was heading. “No. I want to be here.”

  “I don’t want you here. You hear me! Go! Get out!” Josh shouted. She burst into tears and left the room. Ren said she would keep an eye on her. Ryan made a gesture for her not to go near her. He still wasn’t convinced that she was safe even though he hadn’t seen any of the symptoms.

  He turned to his son as the door slowly closed.

  Josh wasn’t trying to be nasty. He might have only known him a short time but he’d seen enough to know he adored his sister.

  He’d said what he did because he didn’t want her to get close.

  “Where are they?” Ryan asked.

  “Long gone. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.” He shook his head, staring at the tiled floor. “Just go. Take Lily and get her on that boat.”

  Ryan took a few steps toward him.

  “Are you hard of hearing?! Go! Get out of here,” Josh bellowed, struggling to hold in his emotions.

  “Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere.” Ryan crouched. “I’m here for you.”

  Josh managed to push a laugh through the pain. “Man, you’ve never been here for me.”

  “Josh.”

  “Don’t.”

  He was still too young to understand the complexity of marriage, what had happened, the court system, the stress that had driven Ryan to drink, or any of the things that factored into the separation or the reason he couldn’t see them. Maybe one day he would.

  Josh stood up, sliding further away from him, into the corner of the room like a wounded animal. He eyed the exit as if he was considering making a run for it.

  Ryan nodded. “You’re right. I wasn’t there for you. I haven’t been there for you. But I can be here for you now.” With that said, he reached for Josh.

  Josh’s eyes widened. “No!”

  He tried to get around Ryan but he was too fast. He grabbed his son and held him, pulling him in close. Holding him tight, Josh coughed hard. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

  “Yeah. I made sure Lily has you around.”

  “You just signed your death sentence.”

  “I already had one.”

  “What?” he replied.

  Ryan stepped back, still holding his arms. “Stage four, kid. I’m dying, Josh.”

  A look of astonishment spread on Josh’s face. “What?”

  “Cancer.”

  “When were you planning to tell us?”

  “Sorry, kid. For everything.”

  “No. No, you don’t get to do this.”

  “It’s already done.”

  Even he couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t like he could take it back. With that said, Ryan turned and walked out of the washroom, his thoughts a blur.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  July 10

  There would be no welcome wagon or cheering crowd to greet them. Elizabeth’s parents wouldn’t be at the window peeking out, waiting on their arrival and then swinging wide their front door and embracing them tightly as they had so many times in the past.

  This final leg of the journey was a somber one.

  They felt like the only people left on the planet but he knew that wasn’t true. Millions were still out there, hunkered down in homes, hiding, traversing the back streets searching for food and supplies. All of them finding safety elsewhere or creating it where they lived.

  Sharing the news with Ren didn’t go over as he imagined.

  He thought shock would be the response but it was far from it. It was acceptance. She nodded then offered back a warm smile. She knew about his diagnosis, she’d seen what had happened with her uncle, and witnessed so much in a short time with her own family that it didn’t have the same impact as it did for Lily.

  Lily had been informed and told to keep her distance.

  Her response was much different. Tears. A full meltdown. She’d had to use her inhaler just to catch a breath.

  While videos put out by those who had passed on the aging to others had said their symptoms stopped, it would still take a few days to verify that. The decision to have him go with them was made by Ryan. There was no specific plan. He would keep his distance. He wanted to be there to make sure they got on that boat. After that, he would consider riding out the end stage of the pathogen or finding a quiet spot and putting a bullet in his head. He would ride the remaining journey in the back.

  Ryan was slumped in the truck bed not far from Josh who was at the far end pressed in the corner near the tailgate. Ren drove and Lily rode shotgun inside the cab. The wind whipped at Ryan’s clothes as he watched the landscape change and the night turned to morning.

  A few times Lily knocked on the rear windshield and he would turn to see that smile of hers.

  He would miss that.

  He
would miss them.

  He would miss all of this.

  Even though he’d only been with them for days, it felt like a lifetime and one he relished beyond all the years before that. In the face of death few things mattered. Work, differences, goals, it all fell by the wayside. They all felt like the CliffsNotes of a book only understood when read in their entirety. And for all his achievements in life, they paled in comparison to his kids. Those two were the best part of his life, and this time had made him see that in a way that he might have never seen had he watched them grow.

  For that he was grateful. Grateful to Elizabeth. Grateful to God who had as he believed given him a chance to experience that before he passed on.

  That morning as the sun rose above the horizon, and the truck rumbled over the four-mile bridge that spanned Apalachicola Bay from Eastpoint to St. George Island, Ryan’s thoughts circled back to those early days of marriage and the years after Josh’s birth.

  The overwhelming joy he felt to have a son.

  It wasn’t about having someone to carry on his legacy but someone to dote on and share all the good things about life. And for the first six years, he did exactly that.

  “Did your mother ever bring you here?”

  “A few times, but it’s been a long while,” Josh replied as the wind whipped at his dark hair. Ryan stared at him, seeing Elizabeth in his face. She was there, a faint glimmer, a reminder that he would soon see her again.

  “You probably don’t remember our trips when you were tiny. It was one of the first places you learned to fish. You would collect shells on the beach and rush back to us to show them.” He smiled, thinking about it like it was yesterday.

  The water sparkled as they crossed over to one of the most picturesque unspoiled barrier islands in Florida. The 28 miles of sand and pristine marshes had drawn her parents, Ben and Gigi, away from Texas. It had been a vacation home they’d visit every year. When they eventually retired they opted to reside there permanently. There were no high-rises or big chain stores, it was a peaceful area where vacationers could rent a cottage or one of the many multi-story beach homes and bask in the tranquility.

  “I always loved this place,” Ryan said.

  “You and mom came here?”

  “Often.” He squinted as he soaked in the landscape of palm trees, sand dunes, picnic pavilions, and tall grass. Ryan could almost hear Elizabeth’s voice. Her laughter. He could almost feel her hand in his as they took walks along the beach. So many good memories and at the center of it all was Josh.

  The memories faded at the sight of an unmanned military checkpoint. There were concrete barriers on the far side of the bridge. SLOW and STOP signs dotted on either side, along with bright yellow flyers flapping in the breeze that indicated infectious areas and who to contact.

  The truck weaved around the barriers.

  Ryan knocked on the window and hollered, “Hang a right up here.”

  They began heading west on Gulf Beach Drive. He could hear the swell of the ocean as the tide rolled in and out. In the distance, he could see the white St. George Island Lighthouse. He remembered the panoramic ocean views, and gifts they bought from the shop. Continuing, they drove past white and blue clapboard homes, a donut shop that had been a favorite of his, and a collection of gift stores. The road soon merged with Leisure Lane. The beach home was nestled at the end of Seaside Drive on a high, dry lot with a protective dune structure. It wasn’t huge. Roughly 1,800 feet with two bedrooms and two baths.

  “That one over there,” Ryan said, guiding Ren into the gravel driveway. It was surrounded by palm trees and thick brush. Ryan hopped out, coughing a few times into his mask. The others kept their distance. Still nervous. Lily was the first to approach the house. She went up and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Ryan encouraged her to go around, and see if one of the doors was open. If her grandparents were in the back.

  A minute or two later she re-emerged shrugging. “They’re not there. But there’s a pool.”

  Ren looked to him for an answer. He couldn’t give one.

  They’d got there on time. By the date, Elizabeth had given. They should have been there. “Perhaps they’ve stepped out.” Ryan and Josh climbed the steps up to the open-air pool.

  “Anything about this picture looks odd to you?” Josh asked

  Ryan took out his binoculars and looked. There were boats out there but they were far away. Certainly none in close vicinity.

  “Give me a minute,” he said, making his way up to the rear doors. Above the door, etched into a piece of weathered driftwood, were the words “A Gift from the Ocean.” The doors were closed but unlocked. He pushed inside and was greeted by the familiar smell of the home. It was warm and inviting inside with a vaulted living room that had tongue and groove wood, hardwood flooring, and ocean décor. There were two fans above him, and cream-colored furniture in the middle of the room, adorned with blue and white pillows.

  Josh followed him. “What a view,” he said.

  It offered a stunning ocean backdrop from the kitchen which was bright and modern, with a center island that he remembered gathering around in the mornings for breakfast. “Ben? Gigi?”

  No answer.

  He entered the spacious master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. It was empty. The beds were made. He checked the other bedroom that had a double bed. No one.

  “Ryan.”

  He stepped out of the bedroom to find Josh holding up a note. “Seems they changed the date of collection to a day earlier. We just missed them.” He set the note down and Ryan took a look. It was a message from Gigi telling them they were sorry but there was nothing they could do. It was out of their hands. There had been a wave of infected trying to reach the boats. They had to leave. It listed several Caribbean islands that were being used as safe havens, infected-free zones with the closest being Dry Tortugas National Park.

  “They won’t be back for another month.” Josh slumped down in one of the chairs in the living room. “All that. All that we went through was for nothing.”

  Ryan stared. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

  “Of course it was. Mom’s dead. You’re infected. And we’re here alone. You should have just left me. Why did you have to go and take it?” Tears welled up in his eyes and for the first time since he’d met his son, he saw real emotion. “Huh? Why? I’ve just got you back in my life and now…”

  “Son.” Ryan took a seat across from him. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not. It never will be.”

  He allowed him to vent. He had every right to. Not only was he dealing with the outbreak, the loss of his mother, and news that his father would now die, he was grappling with the future, and the immense responsibility that no sixteen-year-old should bear.

  “We’ll check dock slips. There has to be a boat you can take. You, Lily, and Ren could probably find your grandparents out on the water or one of the islands.”

  “And we could probably die out there too.”

  “There is that. But right now you at least have one thing going for you.”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “Hope.”

  Josh gave him an incredulous look. “How can you think like that? Aren’t you angry?”

  He scoffed. “Josh. I’ve had plenty of time to be angry. Trust me. I’ve been there. But you can’t be angry forever. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what gave me cancer. It eats you up from the inside. Blaming others for what’s fair and what’s not. No. Eventually, you have to accept what is and move beyond the past, forgive others but most importantly, forgive yourself.”

  Josh shook his head, looking despondently out the window at Lily and Ren standing by the pool. Lily was crouched beside it, dipping her hand into the blue shimmering water. Ren was holding on to the railing, looking out across the water.

  “You have them to think about now.”

  “And you?”

  “You know I can’t go.”

  A tear tric
kled down Josh’s cheek. Ryan so badly wanted to reach out and hug his son again, one last time, but they still didn’t know much about how reinfection worked. There were mixed rumors online that someone who had it could be reinfected within two weeks, others said a month. He wasn’t going to take the risk.

  “Come on, let’s go see if we can find a boat.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Three weeks later

  As fate would have it, in the days after arrival they did find several fishing boats stored in a charter repair warehouse along the northern side of the island. Unfortunately, most were unusable, missing parts, in a state of disrepair, or the engines wouldn’t start. Whereas again Josh saw hurdles, life kicking sand in his face, his father’s outlook was different.

  He’d said it was Elizabeth’s final gift to him.

  Josh never understood it at the time but now he did.

  “This one,” Ryan said, standing back from the bow with a glint in his eye.

  The twenty-foot white motorboat propped up on stands required extensive repairs to the hull. They would use the equipment and supplies in the storage area and what little knowledge his father had to work on the boat and get it seaworthy. It meant weeks of work. Days of sweat. Endless hours of frustration. For some, it might have seemed pointless to even try but his father was undeterred.

  Until his final breaths, he was optimistic. Josh had never witnessed such resilience in the face of death. It was like his father saw something in those final days that he didn’t.

  Time.

  The most valuable commodity.

  It couldn’t be bought.

  It couldn’t be sold.