Yalo

By Paul Grant

(written, owned & copyrighted by Paul Grant, used by permission)

Virginia Davenport stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and scowled. Deep lines marred her smooth, pale skin, and an outcropping of liver spots had established a colony on her right cheek. Her black hair was becoming grayer everyday and no amount of coloring kept it away for long. She’d been a real looker in her youth, but now the only time she turned heads was when she passed gas. Speaking of which, her hearing wasn’t what it used to be either. With increasing frequency, her butler Hank would have to repeat something for her. This drove her mad, but there was no denying it any longer; she was getting old. The thought made her shudder. Oh how she hated getting old. The thought of dying didn’t upset her, everyone died eventually; no, it was the wrinkles and gray hair that bothered her. She wanted to look good in her coffin, Damnit, not like a shriveled up prune!

She reached down on the counter by the sink and picked up a white plastic tub and read the label. “Restores skins youthful glow, invigorates and exfoliates, infuses vitamins A and E while minimizing the appearance of fine lines.” Minimizes my ass! She snorted in disgust and tossed the tub into the waste basket. This was the latest of many expensive failures. Every cream, salve or ointment she tried ended up in the trash, and the lines on her face just got deeper.

A knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts. “Madam, your breakfast is ready,” Hank said through the door.

“Thanks Hank, I’ll be down in a minute,” she said and sighed. She picked up her bone handled hairbrush and slid it through her hair. It didn’t take long to brush her hair and soon gray rooted black hairs formed a mat among the bristles. They mocked her in silence. She picked the hair out and tossed it into the trash. Traitors! It served them right!

She brushed even more traitorous hair from her shoulders and blouse. Beneath the white cotton, below her drooping breasts, lay sallow, sagging flesh. No amount of crunching, yoga or exercise made any difference. Every year when she went to the doctor for her physical, she was embarrassed for him to see her even partly unclothed. Doctor Jefferies was a professional though and kept things that way. She’d been going to him ever since she had moved to the area with her husband George. It was he who had attended her husband on his death bed, and it would be him who attended her when the end came.

Over a breakfast of poached egg, tea, and toast, she sifted through the collection of newspapers her butler had arrayed for her on the table. The New York Times had an article about the toxic exposure of World Trade Center cleanup workers. What a mess! She sighed and moved to the next paper. On the front page of The Oregonian giant headlines proclaimed, “TENTH CHILD ABDUCTED!” Startled, she read on. “Javier Rodriguez, 7, was abducted yesterday in broad daylight, while he played alone outside his home. Witnesses remember seeing an older white Monte Carlo driving through the neighborhood shortly before Javier went missing. Maria Rodriguez, 32, of Beaverton pleaded through an interpreter for her son’s safe return. ‘Please, just bring my baby back to me! I miss him terribly!’ she sobbed. Police have asked for the publics help in bringing an end to the kidnappings. If you have any information about the abductions, please call the police at (555) 268-7654.” A photo of a crying Mexican woman was inset to the right of the story. There was more, but she couldn’t read the rest of it. Good god! Her stomach tied into knots. She threw the paper to the table in disgust. Nothing but good news today!

After breakfast Hank came and gathered her dishes. She brushed the crumbs from her clothes. “Hank, I don’t want to be late for my appointment,” she said. Moments later Hank appeared from the kitchen.

“Of course madam, everything is in readiness for your appointment,” he said and bowed slightly. Hank looked like the stereotypical butler, gray, dignified and always proper. He had been in her employ since her husband’s death. There were only three people in the world she trusted, her banker, her doctor and Hank.

***

She sat on the examining table and waited for Dr. Jefferies to make his reappearance. The counter to her right held the usual foot pedal operated sink, a glass canister each of cotton balls and tongue depressors, a plastic model of the inner ear and clear squirt bottle of blue, water based lubricant. She shifted uncomfortably on the table and the wide strip of butcher paper crinkled in complaint. Where the hell was the doctor anyway? They’d finished the embarrassing part of the physical what seemed hours ago. She sighed and turned her attention to the bulletin board beside her. Most of it was in English, “Tuberculosis and You”, “STI’s and You”, “High Blood Pressure and You”, but a couple of laser printed flyers captured her attention. She understood the barest amount of Spanish, only enough to communicate with her landscapers. The first flyer appeared to be offering help to pregnant Latinos; the second one was for daycare. Echoes of the newspaper story she’d read earlier came unbidden to her mind. That poor mother! She could only imagine what she was going through. She was childless, by a combination of choice and biology. Now, well into her sixties, her biological clock had shut down. A knock at the door snapped her back to reality.

Dr. Jefferies entered the examination room and closed the door behind him. “Mrs. Davenport!” he said and smiled. He sat down on a wheeled stool. “I’m happy to say you’re in fine health! Underneath your chest beats the heart of a forty year old,” he said. She laughed.

“Meanwhile my face looks like I’m eighty,” she said. The smile slipped from the doctor’s face. She half expected him to say something asinine like “It happens to all of us eventually, Mrs. Davenport,” or “That’s a side effect of getting old!”, but no, he sat there for a second, deep in thought.

“There are a few prescription strength creams I could give you, but to be honest, the results are mixed with those. Have you thought about cosmetic surgery?” he asked. She shook her head emphatically.

“No plastic surgery, ever. I’m not into pain,” she said and grimaced. Dr. Jefferies got up suddenly, opened the exam room door, looked both ways and closed it again. He walked over to her and looked her in the eye. He was silent for another long moment and when he did speak, it was in a hushed whisper.

“I hesitate to mention this, but there is another option for you Mrs. Davenport,” he said.

What the heck? Why was he being so mysterious? “What is it?” she asked. He pulled out his prescription pad, wrote something on it and handed it to her. She took it and read it. It was an address she recognized as being in Portland’s Chinatown. “What do I do with this?” she asked.

“Go to that address and ask for ‘Yalo’, “he said, “They’ll know what to do.” He rested his right hand on her shoulder. “Let’s keep this between us, okay?” he said and smiled slightly.

Yalo? What or who was Yalo? “Does it work?” she asked. He studied her for a second before responding.

“Yes,” he said, “it does.” He turned around and left.

***

Hank pulled her black Lincoln Towncar up to the curb and put it in Park. “This is it madam,” he said and gestured to the storefront to their right. “I have to say I don’t like the look of it one bit,” he said and wrinkled his nose. She studied the small shop distrustfully. What she could see of the interior was dark and foreboding. A hand painted sign in what must be Chinese graced the window in dark red paint. What the hell was Dr. Jefferies thinking sending her here? Still, she trusted him and he had said this “Yalo” worked, whatever or whoever it was. She sighed and got out of the car.

“I know, me either, but it’s something I need to check out. Keep it running Hank, I shouldn’t be too long,” she said and closed the door.

“Yes, madam,” he said and nodded.

She pushed open the shop door and stepped inside. A cluster of chromed bells announced her entry. It took a second of two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dusty rows of glass vials, filled with God knew what, lined the isles. Dried plants hung from the dim ceiling along with a grimy curtain of cobwebs. She felt something brush her right ankle and jumped back. She looked down at the floor and smiled in spite of herself; it was only a gray housecat. “Good kitty,” she said and ran her hand over the cat’s forehead and neck. It wobbled and fell to the floor with a muffled thunk. A brief shriek escaped her lips and she jumped back, ramming her spine into something hard. She spun around, coming face to face with a mouthful of sharp teeth from the life size ceramic dragon guarding the door. She shrieked again and stepped backwards, her heart racing.

“Can I help you?” a male voice said from behind her in a thick Chinese accent. She jumped around, her heart in her throat. Before her stood a slight Chinese man, all of five feet tall, with salt and pepper hair and a Fu Manchu. Deep wrinkles lined his liver spotted face and neck, disappearing into the collar of his blue striped shirt. She caught her breath.

“Yes, I was sent here for…Yalo…,” she said haltingly. The man’s expression brightened.

“Yalo, yes, we have Yalo! Come! Come!” he said and ushered her to a room at the back of the store, his brown slacks swishing. “Sit! I’ll get Yalo!” At that he rushed out of the room. She seated herself in a comfortable chair on one side of a polished mahogany table. The room was dark, illuminated only by the small, tasseled, table lamp to her left. What she could see of the room wasn’t much, but the light did illuminate a strange menagerie of stuffed beasts. Cats, dogs, birds and even a pot bellied pig sat scattered around the room, faces frozen in a permanent snarl. Okay, now that’s creepy! A tingle started at the base of her spine and wriggled its way to her scalp where it stood her hair on end. She was about to get up and leave when a young Asian woman walked in and sat down opposite her. Long black hair cascaded down her shoulders and her brown eyes flashed in the dim light. She was dressed all in black.

“I understand you are looking for Yalo?” she asked. Virginia nodded.

“Yes, are you Yalo?” she asked. The young woman laughed.

“No, I am not Yalo, but I do have Yalo for sale,” she said and laughed again. “I’m Liu,” she said, “and what’s your name?” Virginia hesitated for a second. Part of her was loath to give the woman her name, but she didn’t figure it mattered.

“Virginia Davenport,” she said and they shook politely. Liu produced a small, red, intricately carved glass vial from her left hand and held it forward so Virginia could see the cloudy, slightly viscous liquid inside.

“How much?” she asked.

“Five thousand dollars.” The young woman across the table didn’t bat an eyelid. Five thousand dollars for this mysterious Yalo? Who the hell did these yahoos think she was? She didn’t even know if it worked! “You are hesitant?” the young Chinese woman said. Virginia nodded. “It’s understandable, you have no proof it works,” she said. “How old do you think I am?” the woman asked.

“I don't know, thirty maybe?” Virginia said. The woman laughed.

“I am over three hundred years old,” she said and smiled. Virginia’s jaw hit the table. Just how gullible did this woman think she was? “You don’t believe me do you,” the woman said and Virginia shook her head. “You’re a smart one no?” the woman laughed. “Tell you what, I’ll send you home with a little sample so you can see for yourself,” she said. She took a small, clear, black rubber stoppered vial from her pants pocket and handed it to her. Virginia stared at the slightly milky liquid inside the vial.

“What do I do with it?” she asked, “Do I drink it or rub it on or what?” she asked. The woman shook her head.

“With Yalo it doesn’t matter, although with this small amount I recommend rubbing,” she said. Virginia dropped the vial into her purse and snapped the lid shut.

“I should be going,” she said and stood up.

“Very well,” the woman said and smiled, “We’re open seven days a week. We don’t usually take checks, but in your case we’ll make an exception. I know you’re good for it.” Virginia walked to the curtain separating the small room from the rest of the shop and turned around. The stuffed menagerie’s glass eyes and teeth glittered in the light. “We’ll be seeing you Mrs. Davenport!” the woman said. Virginia couldn’t get out of the shop fast enough.

She opened the door of the Towncar before Hank had a chance to get out and slid into the back seat. “Drive!” she said and slammed the car door, “Let’s go home!” Hank nodded and pulled onto the street. She opened her purse and took out the clear vial and studied the fluid inside. It could have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn it moved on its own. She looked up to see Hank looking at her in the rearview mirror.

“What is that?” he asked. She looked back down at the vial in her hand.

“Eternal Youth,” she said and hit the power window button beside her on the door. The warm breath of summer air hit her and street sounds assaulted her ears. She extended her arm and held the vial outside the car, but she just couldn’t let go. She brought the vial back inside the car and put it back into her purse. A flick of a switch rolled the window up and the car once again became silent.

***

Once home, she went into her bathroom and locked the door behind her. She pulled the stopper out and brought the vial up cautiously to her nose. It smelled vaguely of baby oil and tickled her nostrils. She touched a little bit to her right index finger and rubbed it against her thumb. It was greasy, no, that wasn’t right, oily was more accurate, but not in a heavy way, light, just like baby oil. Probably what it is too! Oh hell, baby oil wouldn’t hurt her. She emptied the small vial into her right hand and rubbed her hands together like she was putting on hand lotion. The Yalo glistened in the bathroom light. Suddenly the liquid began disappearing into her flesh. Indeed, the flesh of her hands seemed to be soaking up the Yalo like a sponge, and everywhere it had been, lines disappeared, the flesh firmed and plumped. Her nails shone and grew at least a quarter inch each. One by one the liver spots faded away and were gone. Her arthritic knuckles straightened and shrunk. She held her hands out in front of her and examined them in amazement. Oh my God, it works! She couldn’t believe it, but the proof was right in front of her eyes. She opened the bathroom door and raced out into the living room. “Hank!” she called. “Hank! Get the car ready, we’re going back down town!” She smiled and laughed. Inside she felt as giddy as a school girl who’d just been asked to the prom by the handsomest guy in school.

***

She clutched the carved, rose colored bottle of Yalo to her. The trip back to the herb shop had been intolerable. She kept insisting Hank drive faster, but he had refused. When they finally pulled up to the curb, she had hopped from the car and raced inside. The woman’s wicked grin hadn’t bothered her at all, likewise the glassy eyed stares of the stuffed menagerie. The money was nothing to her, her husband had left her more money than she could spend in her lifetime, and what was money compared to the precious elixir of youth she now held clutched in her hands.

She caught Hank looking at her in the rearview. When he saw her meet his gaze, he looked away. “What is it Hank?” she asked and he shook his head.

“It’s nothing madam,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.

“Come on, spill it before I have to come up there and smack you!” she said and smiled.

“I don’t trust them,” he said and looked back at her in the mirror. “I know you say this stuff works, and I saw your hands, but something seems odd about them,” he continued, “I’d feel a lot better if we just turned around, returned their snake oil and got your money back!” She bristled, but then relaxed. Good old Hank, he was doing what he always did, look out for her. He was a faithful servant and friend. She sighed.

“Hank, you’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Okay old friend?” she said. After a moments hesitation he nodded.

“As you wish madam,” he said and that was the end of it.

***

When they arrived home, Hank stopped the car for her and let her out. She went inside to her bathroom while he parked the car in the garage. This Yalo looked and smelled identical to the sample she had used on her hands. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes, held her nose and chugged the sticky, oily fluid down. At first nothing happened. Then like an electric shock, her body twitched and writhed and she felt a wave of euphoria sweep over her. In the mirror, she watched in amazement as her flesh firmed and lifted in defiance of gravity, like time lapse Jell-O melting in reverse. Her hair thickened and grew, a wave of fresh natural black washing over the strands like an airbrush. Her spine straightened and she grew three inches almost instantaneously. She ripped open her blouse and gasped when she saw the healthy pink flesh of her belly. Firm breasts threatened the seams of her bra with annihilation. She cupped them and giggled. A knock on the door brought her around.

“Mrs. Davenport, are you alright?” Hank asked. She laughed.

“Of course Hank, I’ll be out in a moment,” she said and looked at herself in the mirror once more. Her old lady clothes weren’t going to cut it anymore, darn it. She was going to have to go shopping.

***

She spun around and watched her reflection in the mirror. The rose colored skirt swished around her legs. She’d been out shopping all day and had purchased half a dozen new outfits. She tossed her head and admired the way her long black hair cascaded across her shoulders. It was only six days since she had swallowed the Yalo, but she felt at least thirty years younger. “What do you think Hank?” she asked.

“Very attractive madam,” he said and smiled. Hank, ever the faithful employee, never said a word about the change in her. She looked at him out of the corner or her eye and suddenly she realized something she’d never thought of before, Hank was handsome. The thought sent shockwaves racing through her mind. All of these years and she’d never seen what was right in front of her eyes. He was bald on top, with a fringe of graying black around the edge. A perfect nose rested below his gray eyes and above full lips. A chiseled jaw and chin completed his profile. Even in his early sixties, he was still handsome. She could only imagine what he looked like when he was younger.

“Hank, let’s go get some lunch, my treat,” she said. He smiled and nodded.

“Very well madam,” he said and led the way. Something about the way he smiled at her made her heart race and temperature rise. She blushed and was gratified he couldn’t see her.

***

She stepped out of the shower and wiped the steam from the mirror. Only seven days had passed and her reflection still caught her off guard. She stood for a moment admiring herself and smiled. Suddenly, fine lines spiderwebbed across her face like cracks in granite. Ripples of gray shot through her hair from root to tip, and her flesh sagged from the bones. She screamed and stumbled back in horror. Shaking hands probed the wrinkled skin of her face and clutched brittle tufts of hair. Guttural sobs welled up in her throat and she fell back against the wall and slid to the floor. She was old again!

Footsteps raced up and fists banged on the door. “Mrs. Davenport? Are you okay?” Hank shouted. Barely able to contain the emotion choking her throat, she grabbed her robe from the hook on the door and struggled it on. She stood and opened the door. Hank gasped, the shock flashing across his face. “Mrs. Davenport! My God!” he said.

“Warm up the car Hank, we’re going back to china town,” she managed to croak. After a moment he nodded and raced away.

***

“Did you really expect to buy eternal youth for five thousand dollars?” Liu asked. Virginia sat opposite from her in the back room of the Chinese herb shop. The stuffed menagerie lurked and stared from the corners of the room. She suddenly realized how alone she really was. Hank was still in the car, out of earshot. She was on her own.

“Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I paid you a lot of money for this ‘Yalo’ and it was supposed to make me young, now only a few days later I’m old and wrinkled again!” she said and slammed the table with her right hand. Liu laughed. Her dark eyes gleamed in the dim light, teeth parted in a feral grin.

“Yalo needs to be taken every week to maintain youth,” she said. Virginia slumped back in her chair. It was suddenly very clear what she was. She might as well have had the word “Sucker” tattooed on her forehead. The woman across the table had set the hook into her with remarkable ease. Stupid! She should have seen it coming, but now she was powerless to resist. She had tasted youth and knew she couldn’t go back to being old. She was hooked and she knew it. Liu smiled in triumph. “How much Yalo can I sell you?” she asked. Fifteen minutes and fifteen thousand dollars later, Virginia walked out of the herb shop with a three weeks supply.

***

Two days later she and Hank were eating dinner in the downstairs dining room. Ever since the revelation in the store her thoughts frequently returned to him. With the resurgence of youth had also come a return of her libido. For a moment, memories of the horrible woman at the shop soured her mood, but a glance across the table changed her frame of mind. Oh hell! I’m young and beautiful, and there’s a handsome man sharing the house with me! She quelled a momentary pang of nerves and decided to go for it before her rational side could stop her.

“Tell me Hank, do you think I’m pretty?” she asked and speared a ravioli. An uncomfortable expression fixed on his face and his right hand froze halfway to his mouth. The al dente fettuccini wound around his fork quivered nervously like a frightened Chihuahua.

“Um, I- I don’t know what to say,” he said and focused on his plate.

“How about yes?” she said and smiled. She’d seen the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching. He lowered his fork and looked at her from across the table.

“Yes,” he said, “You are pretty, beautiful even.” He squirmed in his seat like a teenager on their first date. She laughed.

“No need to be nervous dear, I won’t bite,” she said. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Come Hank, there’s something I want to show you in the bedroom.” He got up from the table.

“Let me clear away the dishes first,” he said and made to clean up the table.

“Screw ‘em!” she said and taking him by the hand, she led him to the bedroom.

***

Inspiration struck her with the first rays of sunlight through her bedroom window. She slipped out of bed and into her robe, and went downstairs to the living room. She sat down on the divan and dialed a number. After three rings the line picked up.

“Hello?” said a male voice on the other end. She smiled.

“Jonathon! How’s it going?” she asked. There was a laugh from the other side.

“Not bad, not bad! I finally made supervisor at the lab last month, it’s about time!” he said.

“Indeed! You deserve it old friend!” she said.

“What can I help you with?” Jonathon asked.

“Do you still do work for WestPharm?” she asked. She could almost see him nodding.

“Yep, in fact, it’s almost our entire business,” he said, “Why?”

“I’ve found something I think you’ll be interested in,” she said, “It’s what everyone’s looking for, but no one until now has found.”

“I give up, what is it?” he asked.

“It’s the fabled fountain of youth my friend, and it works!” she said.

“Get out!” he exclaimed.

“No, seriously! I tried it myself and the results are amazing!” she said. She could sense his hesitation over the phone.

“You’re serious, aren’t you!” he said.

“Yes, dead serious,” she said.

“Wow… This could be huge,” he said, “if it works like you say it does! Can you send me a sample?” She thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Yes, I can,” she said, “I’ll pack it up today and overnight it to you. How much will you need?”

“Not a lot, maybe five or ten milliliters at most,” he said.

“Right, well I’ll get it sent down to you then,” she said.

“Great! I’ll expect it by tomorrow,” he said.

“Thanks Jonathon, I appreciate this,” she said.

“Not a problem, I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish the analysis, okay?” he said.

“That’d be great,” she said. “Goodbye, old friend!”

“Goodbye!” he said and the line went dead. She hung up the phone and went to her bathroom. At the bottom of the trash can she found the clear sample vial the rude Chinese woman had given her, along with the rubber stopper. She rinsed the stopper and vial off under the tap and dried them with a towel. Into the vial she poured a small amount of Yalo from one of the rose colored bottles on the counter, and pushed the stopper into the end. Great! Now all she had to do was mail this off to Jonathon and everything would be set in motion. She went to the living room closet and rummaged around until she found a suitable sized box. She stuffed it full of crumpled scraps of newspaper and carefully inserted the vial of Yalo. Once this was done, she closed the box, taped it securely and addressed it. She grinned. All was set; now all she had to do was drop it in the post. She’d have Hank stop by a shipping place on the way downtown later on.

She listened intently and heard no sounds from upstairs. Good! She smiled and slipped into the kitchen. It had been a long time since she had cooked anything, but she was pretty sure she remembered how. Sure enough, in short order, breakfast lay steaming in two plates on the kitchen counter. She grabbed silverware from the drawer and the plates from the counter and headed upstairs to her bedroom. Hank was in for a surprise this morning!

***

“What do you mean no?” she demanded. The Chinese woman’s eyes sparked from across the table.

“I said no, end of discussion!” Liu said. Virginia shook her head in disbelief.

“You’d have national distribution, an exclusive contract worth billions and whatever else you wanted! Don’t you understand woman? You’ve got a goldmine here!” she said. Liu stood up and slammed both fists down on the table.

“No!” she screamed. “I’m not interested in your offer; I’ve enough money as it is!” she said, “Now, get out of my store before I decided to cut you off! If you want anymore Yalo, you’ll forget this silly scheme at once!” Virginia was flabbergasted. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. She stood up stiffly and walked out of the shop without a word.

Hank opened the car door for her and then closed it once she was inside. She sat in the front seat and fumed. Stupid woman! She obviously didn’t know what was good for her. Everyone would have been rich beyond their wildest dreams. A sudden thought made her smile. She’d figure out the formula and make it herself, with Jonathon’s help of course. Once she had it all figured out, she’d sell it nationwide, and for less than the Chinese bitch. She laughed to herself. No one would buy theirs from the dragon lady anymore and she’d be put out of business.

Hank got into the car beside her. “Where to Mrs. Davenport?” he asked. She laughed.

“Stop the Mrs. Davenport crap Hank, call me Virginia,” she said. He looked startled for a moment and then smiled.

“Where to ‘Virginia’?” he asked.

“Wherever you want to go Hank, but make sure it’s fun. I’m in a good mood,” she said. He thought for a moment.

“Do you like to bowl?” he asked.

“I love bowling!” she said. She’d never bowled in her life, but it sounded like fun.

“Very well, I know this great little bowling alley,” he said. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

***

It was late the next evening when Jonathon called. “Give me some good news Jonathon,” she said.

“I have good, and bad news both, which do you want first?” he said.

“Give me the good news first,” she said.

“The good news is that I have succeeded in identifying all except for two compounds in the sample you sent me. It appears to be a combination of HGH, amino acids, Anterior Pituitary Peptides, lipids and herbs. The bad news is the two compounds I can’t identify. They are basically long chain polypeptides in combination with some form of catalyst,” he said. A blank look spread over her face.

“Oh, is that all,” she said. “Amino acids? Peptides? HGH? Tell it to me once more Jonathon, this time in English.” He laughed.

“HGH, Human Growth Hormone is manufactured in the pituitary gland in your body. It stimulates cell regeneration. In youth it is abundant, but around adolescence it starts to decline. Many people believe this is the reason we start to age. Amino acids are basic building blocks of life. The herbs in the sample you sent me are all quite rare, for instance one of them, Broadbean, is only found in the Amazon rain forest. A catalyst is a substance which reacts with other compounds, stimulating a chemical change,” he said. She was speechless. Even though it was in English, she still didn’t understand a word of it.

“Okay… Now for the bottom line question: Can we make it?” she asked. Jonathon sighed on the other end.

“No, at least not yet,” he said, “Without knowing the formula it was made with, it would take a fortune, and an eternity to figure out the correct procedure. I tried making some earlier, and while it looked and smelled like the original, its effects were negligible.” She slumped into the couch.

“So you need the formula then?” she asked. This was not at all what she had expected.

“Yes. Get me the formula and we are in business,” he said. There was a pause, and then he added, “I tried some of the left over sample you sent on some lab mice, and they reverted back to babies! Can you imagine the possibilities?” She could indeed imagine the possibilities.

“I’ll do my best to get it for you, but it won’t be easy. The person who has it is not very cooperative,” she said.

“Do anything you have to, this is too important to let go,” he said.

“I will, believe me,” she said. They said their goodbyes and hung up. She sat there on the couch for a long time in thought. How was she going to get the formula from her? The offer of money didn’t hold any sway. In fact, the idea seemed to have angered Liu. After about ten minutes of brainstorming, the only viable options were the illegal ones. The idea of breaking the law both thrilled and horrified her, but what alternative did she have? She sighed and bit her lip. If she was going to do this she’d need help. Who would she be able to get to help her? The instant and only answer was Hank. Out of all the people she trusted, she trusted him the most. Hank was gone into town at the moment though so she’d have to wait until tomorrow to ask him. Satisfied with her decision, she slipped upstairs and went to sleep.

***

The next morning before breakfast found Virginia reading through the newspapers once more. She finished with The New York Times and tossed it aside. From the front page of The Oregonian the headlines screamed, “ELEVENTH CHILD SNATCHED!” She felt instantly sick to her stomach. Those poor children! She read enough of the story to learn eight year old Claire Higgins had been snatched from outside her home at dusk the night before. She put the paper face down on the table in front of her and pushed it away, unable to read anymore.

Hank walked into the room from the kitchen. “Are you okay Virginia?” he asked.

“Those poor children!” she managed to say and started crying. He held her in his arms and rubbed her back gently.

“I know, it is horrible isn’t it,” he said and she nodded. He stayed with her that way until she had recovered. Once she wiped the tears from her eyes and regained her composure, she told him of her plan to steal the Yalo formula from Liu. When she asked for his help, he surprised her by agreeing immediately. They’d have to wait until dark to put it into action though. She whiled away the daylight hours, impatient for the night to come, finally it did.

They parked in an alley close to the herb shop. Hank slipped on black coveralls and a ski mask. He opened the glove compartment and took out a big metal flashlight and a snub nosed .38 revolver. She was shocked. After all of this time riding around with Hank in this car she found out tonight there was a gun in the glove box. He opened it up, spun the cylinder and then snapped it shut.

She opened her door and he reached past her and pulled it shut. “You’re not coming with me!” he said. She started to protest, but one look in his eyes made her stop. There was a determined seriousness about them which told her there would be no wavering in his decision. She nodded and he got out of the car, closing the door behind him. Like a shadow he disappeared around the corner of the building to her right and was gone.

The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes dragged on. With every forward motion of the big hand on her watch, her apprehension grew. What if a cop happened by at the wrong time? What if the store owners discovered Hank prowling around? Forty five minutes went by with no sign of Hank. This was ridiculous! This was a horrible idea! What the hell had she been thinking?

Suddenly the drivers side door snapped open and she screamed. “Shhhhh!” Hank said and slid into the car. He closed the door and took off his ski mask. Her heart still jumping in her chest, she looked a question at him. He shook his head. “It isn’t here, believe me, I searched the entire store.” She wilted back into the car seat. “They might have it at their house though,” he said. She blinked.

“You know where they live?” she asked.

“Yes, I followed them home once,” he said.

“Whatever for?” she asked.

“It was right after you got that sample and I wanted to check up on them to see what kind of people they were,” he said and grinned. She laughed. Good old Hank, always looking out for her!

“Well, let’s go then!” she said.

***

They took 405 south to Powell and then across the Ross Island Bridge. Hank took a right at Foster and followed it west until he came to an old two story house on the left. “That’s it,” he said. Suddenly the door of the house opened and for a moment she could see Liu and the old man from the shop. Hank swerved off onto a side street, shut off the engine and the lights and stared intently out the back window of the car.

“Do you think they saw us?” she asked. Her heart felt like it was going to exit through her throat any moment. He shook his head.

“No, I’m pretty sure they didn’t,” he said and continued staring out the back window. A dark colored Econoline drove past the street and vanished behind the house on the right. “That’s them!” he hissed and started up the motor.

“We’re going to follow them?” she asked.

“Do you have a better idea?” he said.

“Let’s search the house, they’re not home now,” she said. He considered for a moment and then vetoed her suggestion.

“No, we’re going to follow them! Something doesn’t feel right and I want to know what it is,” he said. He switched on the headlights and made a u-turn. The van was already a considerable distance ahead and Hank accelerated to catch up. She gripped the door handle and closed her eyes. By the time they caught up with them, the van turned left and prepared to get onto highway 205 North. He followed, keeping two cars between them. They drove north for a while and then turned onto highway 84 East. The driver of the van was driving like they were possessed and more than once he had to push the Lincoln up to 80 MPH to keep up. It kept on this way for over an hour. She yawned, and in spite of herself, she found her eyes closing of their own accord. Soon they closed and did not reopen.

The deceleration awoke her. She wiped a spot of drool from her cheek and looked around. “Where are we?” she croaked.

“Cascade Locks,” he said and gave his right turn signal.

“Where are they?” she asked and he pointed out the windshield.

“Two cars ahead of us,” he said. She looked through the windscreen and saw the taillights of the van. The driver was making a right turn. They turned right also. Soon the rest of the vehicles on the road evaporated, and it was just the two of them. Hank fell back a bit to avoid arousing suspicion. The city quickly gave way to forest and winding mountain roads. They traveled for about another thirty minutes before the van suddenly slowed and turned onto a side road.

The road was little more than two tire tracks winding through the overgrown underbrush and Douglas fir. Just off of the pavement the grade steepened and he gave the car more gas. After about a half mile, the path leveled out. There in the darkness ahead of them shone a light. As they got closer, they could see the light came from the entrance of what looked like a cave or mine shaft.

Hank slowed the car and pulled off to the side of the road and killed the lights. He checked his gun once more. “Stay here!” he commanded and slipped out of the car and disappeared into the woods. Soon she saw his dark figure stealthily enter the opening and vanish inside.

Agonizing minutes ticked by and she grew more anxious by the minute. After a half hour by her watch, she’d had enough. “Like hell I’m staying here!” she exclaimed and got out of the car. She hurried through the darkness up to the light. Up close she could see it was actually an old mine shaft. Electric lights were strung up to the wooden supports on either side heading back into the depths. A gentle breeze blew out of the mine, carrying with it a rotten smell like the time the freezer full of meat had failed while she and her husband were on vacation. Her nose wrinkled at the odor, but at this point it was merely unpleasant. She listened intently but heard nothing. Slowly she stalked further into the mountain, the nauseating smell getting stronger with each step.

Like a murmur on the wind at first and then growing stronger, a strange metallic, hissing noise mixed with voices reached her ears. She stopped and listened. Two lower pitched voices spoke in Chinese. Mixed in were higher pitched voices whimpering and crying. One of the higher pitched voices called for its mother. Her stomach twisted in her belly. What the hell were children doing here? Up ahead the passageway opened up into a large room carved out of the bedrock. She slunk up to the corner and peered around into the room. What she saw twisted her stomach into a bowline. Stomach acid surged up her gorge and she swallowed hard to force it back down.

Off to the left along the far wall sat a row of small cages like one would normally find at a pet store, but instead of puppies and kittens, these cages held children. Dirty, tear stained faces peered out from behind the steel bars. Her heart wrenched and tears formed unbidden at the corners of her eyes. Oh my God! Her mind put two and two together. These were the kidnapped children! Anger welled up in her. How dare they abuse these children this way!

To the right of the cages lay a large machine which reminded her of her orange juicer at home, except this one was as large as her bedroom. The bottom half of the machine was a stained convex dome and the top was concave to match up flush. Recessed iron restraints were set into the bottom part. At the top of the dome was a large, dark red discoloration. A similar stain marred the inside of the top half of the machine as well. On the front of the machine, a pipe jutted out, and below it was a large bucket. She suddenly realized what the red colored stain was. Mixed into the musty dirt smell of the mine was a coppery sweet smell. Blood! The thought made her stomach churn and she felt like she was going to throw up. As she watched, a dark red stalactite of clotted blood oozed from the end of the pipe and plopped into the bucket.

The man and woman from the herb shop were working in front of a giant still on the far right. At the top, a length of coiled tubing ran down and dripped a familiar milky, viscous liquid into a large glass beaker. While the old man worked the still, the woman poured the liquid through a funnel into rose colored glass bottles. The man opened a port on the still and poured a bucket of swiftly clotting blood into it. Moments later, more of the sticky white fluid dripped from the copper pipe into the beaker.

Spikes of pain needled her scalp. OH MY GOD! The thought repeated in her mind. Every time she’d taken her Yalo she’d been drinking children! She bent over double and retched her stomach contents onto the floor of the mine shaft.

“Mamma?” a young voice called from the other side of the room. “Mamma! Mamma! Mamma!” The woman looked over at the cages for a moment, and then followed the child’s eyes over to where Virginia kneeled puking. With a growl of rage she yelled at the man. He spun around, and with surprising speed he raced over to her and dragged her roughly over to the still.

“So, now you know where your precious Yalo comes from,” she said and sneered. “For everything in this world there is a price to be paid,” she said, “These little brats pay for Yalo with their lives, and you pay me money for Yalo!” Virginia collapsed to the floor, her body contorted in dry heaves. “What’s the matter, don’t want to be young anymore?” the woman said. She laughed evilly. “Put her in the press,” she said and pointed to the giant machine in the middle. There came the sound of a hammer being cocked on a gun.

“Not so fast!” Hank said and walked out from behind a support beam. “Lay a hand on her and I’ll blow your brains out!” The man backed away from Virginia slowly with his hands up. “Are you okay?” Hank asked. She nodded, unable to speak. “Listen to me,” he said, “I want you to get up, and run back to the car. Don’t stop or come back. I should be there shortly, but if I’m not there in five minutes call the cops.”

“But the children!” she said.

“I’ll take care of the children,” he said, “Now go!” She got to her feet and ran as fast as her jellied legs would carry her down the mine shaft and back to the car. At the car door, she heard three shots echo from the mouth of the mine. After a moment she heard screaming. She opened the door of the car and slammed it shut behind her. Three minutes later, Hank emerged from the mine and raced over to the car. He opened the door and got in. Without a word he slammed the key into the ignition and started the car.

“The children?” she asked. He spun the wheel hard to the left and floored the accelerator.

“Freed,” he said and aimed the car straight down the road.

“The woman and man?” she asked. He turned briefly and looked her in the eye.

“They’re not going to be bothering you anymore,” he said.

“Shouldn’t we take the children to the police?” she asked. He shook his head.

“No, they’ll find their way to the road and someone will pick them up,” he said. She started to protest, but he shushed her. “Look Virginia, do you really want your name associated in any way with these child kidnappings? Are you prepared to answer the questions everyone will have?” he asked. She had to shake her head. “I didn’t think so,” he said and power slid the car onto the pavement. They raced into the night, headlights slicing through the darkness like a hot knife through butter.

She was exhausted by the time they pulled into the driveway at her home in the west hills. Her eyes were sandy and her stomach felt like it was on fire. She went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. The pain and guilt of what she had inadvertently been a part of sickened her. How was she going to live with herself now? She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was the two bottles of Yalo sitting on the counter below the mirror. In disgust, she poured first one and then the other down the drain in the sink. She dumped the empty bottles into the trash and left for her bedroom.

***

Hank ground out his cig in the Monte Carlo’s ash tray. It was the new moon and the land was enveloped in inky darkness. The car on the other side of the highway passed and he switched back to his high beams. It was a long drive and his thoughts turned back to Virginia, like they always did when he was alone. Five years after the incident in the mine shaft she had passed away from undiagnosed liver cancer.

He took the next exit and then took a right at the road. He’d waited a couple years after her death before going back to the mountain. A thick layer of dust had collected over the years on the giant press and still. The cage bars were rusty and the locks frozen in place. Two shattered skeletons lay in the jaws of the press, right where he had left the pair. Served them right! They’d been wounded, but alive when he’d strapped them in and triggered the actuator. He had never told Virginia about what happened, and she had never asked. The children had all been picked up on the road like he’d said they would be and Virginia had been relieved. He smiled, she had always had a soft spot for children. Why, her contribution alone had been enough to build the new “Virginia Davenport” wing on the Portland Children’s Hospital.

He slowed the car and turned onto a side road leading up the side of the mountain. After a short drive, he pulled into the shaft and parked the car in the large room deep inside the mountain. He got out of the car and hit the light switch.

Bright lights glared off of the oiled, polished metal of the press and still. It had taken a lot of elbow grease and time to get everything cleaned and back into running shape after so many years of neglect. By the time he had finished though, even the bars of the cages gleamed like silver, and the locks moved with Swiss precision. He opened the trunk on the white Monte Carlo and hoisted out a heavy, burlap sack. He’d taken his time after everything was cleaned up and found a local cosmetics boutique that was willing to play ball. A little bit of Yalo mixed into their anti-wrinkle creams did the trick and the product had begun to fly off of store shelves. He had used the big crate of Yalo bottles he’d found in a side tunnel to supply them until now, but he was fresh out. He set the burlap sack down on the ground next to the press and withdrew an unconscious little girl with curly blonde hair. The chloroform had done the trick nicely. A sigh escaped his lips. This was the part he’d been dreading. He picked up the child and strapped her onto the lower jaw of the press. He could only imagine Virginia’s reaction if she knew. She was dead and gone though; she’d died a wrinkled old lady. He would be damned if the same thing was going to happen to him.

“Forgive me Virginia,” he whispered, and activated the press.

THE END