RESURGENCE

CHAPTER 14 & Conrad's diary

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 August 14, 2016

 John Underwood was a well-loved, old-fashioned man who had the reputation of being fair. He had lived most of his life in Hudson—a small town in the state of Alabama with a population of about seven hundred. As the sheriff, he upheld the sanctity of law as much as he could and ensured the safety of all those walking on the quiet streets of his sleepy town. Paula Underwood, his wife of thirty-three years, taught English to kids at the local high school. John and Paula had no children of their own and had made peace with the fact years ago. 

The symptoms began to show when he was in his early fifties. Initially, Paula attributed it to him being absent-minded and getting old, but soon she knew something was seriously wrong with him. John’s unexpected mood swings and sudden bursts of swearing were contrary to his mellow nature. Alzheimer's Disease had grabbed John earlier than it did most people. Within an year of the disease’s onset, John had to take early retirement. He had become incapable of carrying on his duty of protecting the public.

At first, Paula was embarrassed at John’s condition, but she eventually realized that he had changed in an irreversible manner. She began to take everything in her stride and accepted her fate. John was going to die a slow death, day by day, forgetting all those who loved him, forgetting her, and forgetting his own identity. There was nothing she could do about it except make it easier for him to go. At times, when he looked at her through his cold unresponsive eyes—as if he was looking at a stranger who had stumbled into his room—her heart swelled and sadness poured out of her eyes. She tried not to live in long-gone memories, but her thoughts and dreams always returned her to John of the past, healthy and vibrant. She wondered if there was a pill she could take to make her mind stop, and turn her into a machine, devoid of emotions and aware of only her duties.

A heart attack would have been much easier, she often thought.

On a blazing summer day, Paula sat near the dining table by the window in a rocking chair. It was unusual for John to take a nap in the afternoon, but she was grateful for it. The house was quiet and her mind was empty. She had no aims or ambitions left. Tasks needed to be done. The car registration needed to be updated that month, the printer needed new ink cartridges, the bed sheets were to be washed, the carpet was to be cleaned next week, and so on. The tasks were easy. She did them without thinking. The toughest time was when she was idle and all by herself.

The shady peach tree outside her window turned the hot blistering wind into a dry warm breeze. She was tired and slouched in the comfortable rocking chair. A gentle sleep engulfed her. She saw the beautiful autumn colors as the leaves danced in their full glory—bright yellow, orange, and rusty red. The gentle breeze turned into strong gusts and the leaves started to fall while the branches danced with the wind. She looked around and saw that she was buried waist deep in dry and colored leaves. She held a few of them in her hand, and they crumbled into tiny particles of rainbow dirt. She couldn’t move and looked up at bare naked trees for the last time as the leaves buried her alive. 

She woke up dazzled and thirsty.

Later that afternoon, she was reading a magazine to keep her mind busy when she came across an advertisement of a California-based company called Phoenix, which claimed to have developed an Age-Reversal therapy. She immediately thought of all the magical hair oil TV commercials that promised instant relief to male baldness. Most of them don’t work and leave one with a smelly head, she thought. She curiously read the advertisement, since she had seen a breaking story, two weeks ago, on the evening news about the discovery of Age-Reversal technology. The advertisement had two pictures, side by side: a before and after shot of the famous actress Meryl Stone. In the before shot, the actress looked like a ragged seventy-year-old woman. In the after shot, she was a gorgeous twenty-five-year old girl. She slowly read the whole article about how the Age-Reversal therapy helped transform Meryl Stone into a glamorous diva from the crutches of old age and dementia. By the time she was done reading, her old heart was beating faster than it had done in years, and she immediately called the number on the advertisement to get John on the waiting list. 

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 THREE MONTHS LATER

 John and Paula parked their rental car, a deep-blue Japanese four-door hatchback, off the Pacific Coast Highway, about sixty miles north of Santa Barbara. They looked like any regular young couple traveling the world-famous coastline. The Pacific was peaceful and serene as they drank in the spectacular view. They had sold their house and used up most of their savings to ‘go young,’ and now all they had left was fifteen thousand dollars in the bank. With that money and the feeling of absolute freedom, they had travelled west to California, not knowing exactly where they would end up. After landing in glitzy Los Angeles, they were making their way up the coastline in search of a town they loved. 

In the next week, they traveled further north along the coast in their small hatchback until they came to Hamilton in northern California—the place they chose to stay. John was amazed at the amount of energy Paula exuded as she kept going for days before taking a full night’s sleep. She pushed herself to the limit and, even though he was worried about her, he couldn’t help but be impressed at her drive. John had controlled people most of his life, telling them what was acceptable and what wasn’t, but now he let Paula carry him with her fluctuating imagination. If one day she wanted to be a writer, then the next day she dreamed of being a dancer. As the money in their bank account dwindled, they looked for real jobs. John found work as a bakery cook and applied to get into the police force, and Paula began teaching kids of rich families in the neighborhood.

From Conrad Hayley’s Diary-

January 21, 2018

I can’t have kids. Some people after having the Age-Reversal therapy can’t have kids. It’s the therapy’s only side effect. It would be nice to have my own kids. Maybe I am being selfish, but I firmly believe that, given a second chance, I will make a better father. I keep thinking of adopting an unfortunate kid from Asia or Africa, but I haven’t had enough balls to go ahead with it. It’s kind of funny that once I fought in a gruesome war and came out alive and reasonably sane, but now I am scared of adopting a poor kid. I was young then. I didn’t respect life—neither mine nor the enemy’s. Death was all around us, but nobody talked about dying. We talked about the scent of home, the taste of food, and the time spent with our loved ones, but never about death. I felt invincible, perhaps immortal. Maybe I was, and maybe I was destined to be the first one to be immortal. As I grew older, the thoughts of my own death became more frequent. I even dreamed of my own death. I often thought of what came after it. In my opinion, God is an old man’s imaginary walking stick, and religion is the old man’s path leading to the destination: hell or heaven.