When in Rome (Clockmaster 1)

Chapter 1
When in Rome (Clockmaster 1)

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Chapter Description: This is intended as the first in a series of loosely connected stories called "The Clockmaster Cycle". Hence the numbered title. Each story stands on its own, however.

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[quote][quote][quote]Chris let slip a tiny groan as he pulled the dusty Halloween decorations from their cardboard box homes. Some, like his first grade construction paper jack o’ lantern, had not seen the light of day for years. Any magic the holiday might have possessed at that age had vanished. Peeling his old artwork from the bottom of the box, Chris felt stuck himself - seventeen, living with his mother and older sister in a new town he could hardly call home, hundreds of miles from his friends in Minnesota.

”Where do these go?”

”Put the usable ones here in this pile and I’ll go through the others later,” Kari instructed.

After two months of packing and unpacking, the task of rooting through plastic witches and goblins held no appeal for either of them, and yet the ritual continued. Rome, Massachusetts bore little resemblance to St. Paul, and despite their admirable efforts to integrate, the Camden family still felt a little like outsiders. It was a friendly enough community on its face; passersby said hello in the streets and the parks looked nearly identical to the brochure. Both Chris and Chelsea made acquaintances at school, though none either would call ’best friend material.’

”How was the movie last night?”

”Nothing earth shattering,” Chris answered in monotone. “Tickets are even more expensive here than St. Paul. For ten bucks, I think I should get to meet the stars...“

”No, no, I meant your friends. Nick, Eric, and who’s that girl you keep mentioning, Meredith? The one you said you might ask out?”

”They’re nice, I guess,” Chris admitted with some hesitation. “A little weird maybe.”

”Weird how?” Kari asked, grimacing as she unfolded a moth-eaten black and orange tablecloth.

”We went to the mall yesterday before the movie,” Chris explained reluctantly. “And they all ran straight for this one store - Rainbow Costumes. They started picking out stuff. Nick had Superman, Meredith wanted Hermione...“

”Well, that doesn’t sound too strange. At least they’ve got the spirit...”

”Yeah, but Mom, they were all kid’s costumes.”

Kari glanced inquisitively at her son. “Maybe they were joking around, Chris.”

”But they bought them.”

”They did? I’ll bet they were for their little brothers and sisters.”

”Eric has one older brother and Meredith is an only child.”

”Well.” Kari checked her watch and noticed seven o’clock was upon them. Soon various breeds of ghoul would appear at the door demanding confections.

”Honey, get that punchbowl in the sink,” she said, her joints snapping as she stood up and brushed off her sweatpants. “Three Musketeers are on top of the fridge.”

Unenthused, Chris plodded lethargically into the kitchen like an eighty-year-old man. Like all festivities meant to bring out the kid in him, Halloween too had grown boring and stale, not unlike the candy corn that suspiciously reappeared in cupboards across the country every October. Reaching for the bag o’ tooth decay, he lifted himself onto his toes and quietly wondered why the refrigerator posed such a challenge. A brisk, prickly sensation rapidly spread over his thighs and around his chest.

”Huh? What the...“

Sleeves dipping unnaturally from arms and a cool draft rushing between his legs, Chris found himself suddenly eye-level with the freezer handle. Another jolt of pins-and-needles left him even shorter and less coordinated. Dizziness crept in as he studied the jumbled pool of clothing congregating at his feet. A clock above his head spun violently in the wrong direction, so fast it produced a bizarre buzzing sound. Desiring an escape from whatever strange affliction had overtaken him, Chris stumbled back into the living room, his hands no longer visible beneath the drooping, jumbo sweater.

”Mom?” He whimpered like a scolded pup.

”Honey, what’s happened to you?” she gasped, running to help as Chris wobbled drunkenly in the doorway.

When he uncovered his teary face, Kari saw her son - a ten-year-old boy with big blue eyes and blushing cheeks. A trail of crumpled Dockers, underwear, and shoes led back into the kitchen.

”You’ve gotten younger!”

”I’ve what?” Chris tried hard to string together a coherent thought. His voice came out foreign and differently pitched.

”Chris, honey, you look like you did in the fifth grade.” Kari ran her hand through his chestnut hair and pulled him closer, inadvertently burying his face in her breasts. “I didn’t know. I thought they were kidding!” She kissed the top of his head.

”Thought who was kidding?” Chris sniffled in his new treble voice.

”At the community center meeting last night. A bunch of women were talking about Halloween, how their teenagers became little kids again, and I figured they meant that they just enjoyed dressing up or going to haunted houses, metaphorically you know...“

”And...”

”...and Marcie, she said something about this clockmaker, Mr. Renson, how he has this deal with the mayor and the town. I didn’t understand any of it, but she said something about... controlling time. It sounded silly. I thought they were just playing tricks on me.”

A pronounced little boy frown crossed Chris’s lips.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m going to call Marcie, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

As his mother trekked toward the phone, the doorbell rang - and rang. When Kari didn’t return Chris timidly opened the door to find three kids, a smiling Asian boy dressed in a lime green dinosaur outfit, a buck-toothed Superman, and a slender, beaming Hermione Granger guarding her empty plastic pumpkin.

”Not much of a costume,” Nick said, pointing at Chris’s oversized attire. “We figured as much.”

”Here!” Hermione chirped, handing Chris a cheap Batman suit with a black felt mask. “Better hurry up. We’ve only got two hours before it wears off.”

”Nick? Meredith?” Chris panted, almost breathless at the sight of his new friends reduced to children. Halloween had transformed Nick from a grungy, goateed eighteen-year-old into Howdy Doody. And Meredith was hardly recognizable without her cleavage.

”You look cute,” Meredith said, flashing a flirty yet innocent grin at Chris. “Come on, let’s go!”

”But... how old are you?” Chris asked frantically. “You guys aren’t upset? I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

”We’re all ten years old. That’s the age Mr. Renson makes us,” Eric explained casually.

Ms. Camden reentered the room with good news. “Chris, Marcie assures me it’s only for tonight and...oh, who do we have here?”

”Mom, these are my friends from school,” he stuttered, barely able to believe it himself. The three children waved hello as Kari covered her mouth in amazement. It seemed every teenager in town truly had regressed to preadolescence, just as Marcie described.

”Mind if we take him trick or treating?” Meredith requested with an irresistible cuteness. “Pretty please?”

”Well, they say it only lasts a little while.” Kari cocked her head at the trio of youthened high school students. “Chris, do you want to? I know it seems strange, but she assures me it’s a tradition here.”

”Come on,” Nick prodded. “It’s fun. Trust us.”

”You guys, I feel really weird. I mean, we’re supposed to be grown up. I’m not sure I want to be ten years old, even for two hours...”

At that, Meredith ran up and planted an unexpected kiss on young Chris’s cheek. “Don’t be shy,” she whispered into his ear. “Everyone from school is little again. It’s cool.”

”Yeah, you’re not the only one, dude. Look at us,” Nick said. “We won’t embarrass you.”

”Well... okay, I guess,” Chris capitulated, but only in the hopes of continuing where he and Meredith left off when they eventually resurfaced on the right side of puberty. Still nervous, but somewhat reassured, he took off for the bathroom to transform into the Dark Knight, unaware his sister was headed for the same destination. In his excitement, he’d also forgot to lock the door.

Just as Chris peeled his bulky sweater over his head and began applying the costume, Chelsea, dressed as a cocktail waitress and looking every bit twenty-one, spilled through the doorway, releasing a momentary shriek at the sight of a naked ten-year-old donning nothing but a Batman mask. Chris rapidly assembled the remaining wad of material over his groin.

“I... uhh...” Words failed.

”Umm, hello there,” she said, bending over to address the pint-sized superhero. “Using the Bat-toilet, are we?”

Could an entire body blush?

“Your mom is letting me use the bathroom...”

“I see.”

Staring directly into his sister’s mountainous chest, Chris swallowed hard. Their age difference had jumped dramatically in the last twenty minutes, and he wanted no part in explaining this.

”Cute. Leave the mask on while you’re going potty, eh? I guess Batman should stay mysterious,” she giggled, heading out the door. “Have fun trick or treating. Oh, and Mom, I’ll be late, don’t wait up, okay?”

”Honey, before you go...“ Kari tried to capture her daughter’s attention.

”Tell me when I get back, all right? See ya!” Chelsea said as she budged past the kiddie trio at the front door. “Excuse me, guys. Big girl coming through.”

”Well, that wasn’t humiliating,” Chris moaned as he walked by his mom.

She watched sympathetically as her young son traipsed toward the door, now fully decked out in his crime-fighting regalia.

”Awww, I’m sorry but you do look adorable, honey,” Kari chimed. “Just one second. Let me get the camera.”

Chris stayed put, begrudgingly, and allowed his mother to capture what would surely become his least favorite picture in the family album. Eric, Nick, and Meredith were the only ones smiling. For Chris, the entire situation smacked of double jeopardy. Who ever heard of being ten twice in one lifetime?

As their little clan departed Chris observed a neighborhood teeming with kids, no doubt half of them previously-teenaged. To his surprise, the clusters of costumed youngsters and adult chaperones appeared appallingly normal. The air was thick with the constant rustle of fall leaves, excited chatter, and boomboxes playing cheesy Halloween sound effect loops.

”So,” Chris said, walking conspicuously close to Meredith, “this doesn’t bother you?”

”What?”

”Being... young. I mean most girls I know would be self-conscious.”

”Oh, that,” she snickered. “Well, I know guys think boobs are God’s great gift to the world...“

”They aren’t?!” Nick couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

”Shut up,” Meredith laughed, smacking Superman in the back of the head. “Anyway, it’s actually nice not having those things hanging in my way for one night.”

Nick rang the bell at 245 Westwynd Lane. When the door opened, a bearded, middle aged man in a floppy Merlin hat came bearing Skittles.

”Trick or treat!” they yelled at full volume.

Hearing those words come out of his mouth, Chris finally realized this was no dream. He was a kid. Trick or treating! He imagined himself back in Minnesota seven years ago, doing the same thing. As he awaited his share of the sugary loot, an old, forgotten zeal washed over him. Dressing up and filling bags with candy was...what’s the word?...fun.

”Thaaank youuuu,” the kids said, as if being forced by their parents.

They repeated this exercise until they had exhausted two blocks, all the while informing their curious newbie of the history of Rome’s ’tradition.’ As Eric explained it, Mr. Renson had lived in town as long as anyone could remember (folks often differed on the question of his immortality). In some versions of the legend, Mr. Renson was involved in the construction of nearly every famous clock in the world: the Strasbourg Cathedral clock created in 1352, the tower clock in the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company building in New York City, the astronomical clock in Prague, and, of course, Big Ben. His powers, or the idea for how to create devices that manipulate time, came to him after being struck by lightening during the construction of the Eastgate clock tower in Europe. Ever since he settled in Massachusetts, he kept an agreement with the town’s officials to turn back time for every teenager in Rome one night of the year: Halloween.

”But how does he do it?” Chris asked impatiently.

”Most people think it’s a device called the ?Chronos Configuration’ that he keeps locked away 364 days a year,” Nick said.

“And no one knows how it works? I mean, is it magic?”

“No one really knows. It’s supposedly all based on...Mere, what’s it called?”

“The Vodri... wait, Baudrillard equation?” she said, obviously guessing.

“Um, hard math,” Eric clarified.

“How it works isn’t all that important,” Nick added.

”And it ends at nine o’clock?” Chris wanted to make certain his foray in childhood would end as promised.

”Like clockwork,” Meredith assured him, grabbing his hand and swinging it playfully between them. “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll get stuck as a dinky ten-year-old?”

”Well, yeah.”

”It’s okay. Happens to all of us the first time.”

”Remember Michael’s first time?” Nick reminded them, his cape flopping as the wind picked up. “He was scared shitless he wouldn’t get his pubes back.”

”Well, he was only thirteen. It means a lot then,” Eric commented clearly from experience.

Meredith turned to Chris...her eyes sparkled from the light of the street lamps. She caught him before the question even arose. “Michael Jeffreys. The town’s official asshole. He’s the son of the vice mayor. Dates the prettiest girls in the school. Undue sense of entitlement. The whole nine.”

”So does anyone ever see Mr. Renson?”

”Not often,” Eric said tentatively. “But he pops up here and there.”

”Hmm.”

As the night wore on, with nine o’clock fast approaching, the kids hurried to get in as many houses as time would allow. Their sacks brimming with chocolate and tin foil, Rome’s erstwhile teens knew Halloween was coming to an end. The streets cleared as most headed back home ahead of their annual re-growth spurt. Due to some rather unfortunate incidents in years past, regressed teens were required to be indoors by a quarter till. Parents of younger children feared the sight of topless adolescents in ripped costumes running home at the last minute might disturb the peace. The city council drew the line following Becky Rosdale’s infamous episode involving a torn Wonder Woman outfit and a bouncy, braless trip across Mrs. Johnson’s front yard.

But just as Nick, Eric, Meredith, and Chris visited their final house, a young boy - no older than six - accosted them. Wearing nothing but an oversized plaid sports jacket, the child looked panicked and lost.

”Can we help you?” Nick said, noticing how peculiarly the boy paced the sidewalk.

”You’ve got to help me,” he wheezed.

”Have you lost your mommy and daddy?” Meredith asked, perplexed by the boy’s oversized clothes. Surely a regressed teen would be able to find his way home. “What’s your name?”

”Elijah, Elijah Renson.”

Nick and Eric stepped back. Meredith looked back at them with wide eyes.

”The Elijah Renson?” she asked.

”Holy shit,” Nick snapped. “Holy shit!”

The boy appeared frustrated by the questions. Wiping sweat from his brow like a professor puzzling over a theorem, the kindergarten-age child addressed them with a disconcerting directness: “Look, we have no time for my biography. Someone needs to help me find a device that was stolen from me.”

Chris’s heartbeat quickened. “What device?”

”It’s a box, about three inches square, with symbols on all six sides,” the boy said, describing it with his hands.

”Maybe when we grow back up, we can...“ Chris tested the waters, though he already knew instinctually what this meant.

”Don’t you get it?” the young Elijah Renson grew serious. “Without that device you won’t grow back up. None of you will.”

A shivery chill coursed down Chris’s spine while the rest of the group exchanged apprehensive looks. Suddenly the impulse to cry became overpowering, effectively silencing the carefree chatter that took place only moments earlier. The joyride had passed, and the group was suddenly left to grapple with the prospect of remaining young.

Ten - the number seemed so much smaller now.

”But... we always grow back up,” Eric mumbled, his lower lip quivering just enough to make his words come out sounding truly helpless and childlike.

”Not this time,” the cheerless child informed them. “And there’s more. The boy who stole the device probably has yet to realize it, but the power to alter time extends far beyond our little Halloween tradition in Rome.”

”What exactly are you saying?” Nick asked.

”I’m saying, if the thief so wishes, people all over the world could find themselves young enough to trick or treat this Halloween,” Mr. Rensen said direly, “or worse.”

”You mean we could get younger?”

”The Chronos Configuration works by concentration. As long as he keeps his aims local and isolated, we’re safe.”

”Safe?!” Chris protested like a little boy just denied a cookie. “We’re all stuck this way, and you call that safe? Look at you! We’re talking to a kindergartener for chrissakes. And all this time you have a device that can screw with time? What if Osama bin Laden got a hold of it and regressed us all back to toddlers?”

”Calm down,” Meredith advised. “We’ll find a way to get our years back.”

Just then, they heard the echoes of laughter coming from down the block. Grown up laughter.

“Over here!”

Following Mr. Renson’s lead, the regressed teens ducked behind a row of bushes nearby as the sound drew nearer. Crouched in the darkness, they waited. Chris watched as Meredith’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Visions of hide-and-go-seek ran through his head.

Finally the silhouette of a couple appeared. Closer inspection revealed the group’s worst fears had been realized when Michael Jeffreys and his girlfriend (Meredith’s arch-nemesis) Jessica, looking like their usual eighteen-year-old selves, emerged from the shadows dressed as Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsson from Grease.

”Please tell me that’s not the guy who stole the device,” Meredith whispered.

”That’s him,” Mr. Rensen sighed regretfully. “I’m guessing you know this one.”

”God, why didn’t we see that coming?” Meredith said. “Ten bucks he’s already wished his ex-girlfriends into babies.”

The shivering ten-year-olds watched as Jessica, clothed from head to toe in whorish skintight black leather, clung like a barnacle to her big, hunky boyfriend. Squinting, they could just make out a small, cube-like object in Michael’s hand. It shimmered briefly like a reflector whenever he passed under a streetlight.

When the dream couple rounded the corner onto Birchland Lane, they nearly ran into a little girl in witch’s wear followed, presumably, by her tired, uncostumed mother. A conversation ensued. From their vantage, the kids couldn’t hear much, just a word here and there, though it was clear from the body language that a disagreement had erupted. As the exchange intensified the irate mother started to shrink, slipping first to Jessica’s height and then farther.

”Oh my god,” Nick said, pointing. “She’s getting shorter, did you see?”

Gradually, the woman’s shapely figure melted away, leaving her a scrawny, adolescent beanpole. She continued throwing words at the young man and his girlfriend even as her stature diminished. Voice rising with each new insult hurled, the mother soon found herself submerged in her own clothes, and trying desperately to regain her status as authority figure.

”I will report you to the cops!”

”Mommy, why are you gettin’ little?” the daughter asked sheepishly.

Meanwhile Michael and Jessica burst into laughter at the sight of the woman swamped in her festive fall sweater. Sleeves now dragging along the ground, she had taken a thirty-two year hit, reducing her to a plumpish five-year-old butterball.

”I’ll call da powice!” she insisted.

Amused by her threats, Michael bent down and ruffled her hair. “Call the cops? I don’t think they’ll do much good in diapers.”

”Come on, Michael, don’t be too hard on her,” Jessica admonished. “Little girls get scared easy.”

”Happy trick or treating, you two,” he said, smiling devilishly.

Back amongst the shrubs, Chris and his regressed friends watched the entire incident with their mouths agape. Nick glanced at his watch: 9:15 p.m. And no sign of puberty to be found. After the display they had just witnessed, each one began to envisage their new lives as permanent ten-year-olds. All seemed hopeless. Armed with the capability to change time, Michael was invincible. Anyone who approached could be zapped into an infant before even getting close.

”Well, we have to follow them,” Nick said, breaking the short silence. “What choice do we have?”

“If we don’t keep tabs on him,” Eric warned, “we might all wind up sucking our thumbs by the end of the night.”

”He’s right,” Mr. Renson agreed. “The Chronos device grows more addictive the longer one uses it. Things will likely get much worse before they get better.”

”We’re lucky Michael isn’t very creative.”

The team of intrepid fifth-graders moved cautiously from hedge to hedge, staying just within earshot of the dastardly duo. From their posture, Chris guessed that they were both slightly tipsy, especially Michael who seemed to weave awkwardly as he walked. Jessica appeared the more clear-headed of the two, though that wasn’t saying much. Neither were MENSA material.

Eventually, Michael and Jessica turned up a walkway toward a crowded house surrounded by cars and inebriated college students sucking on each other’s faces like oxygen masks. Outside, the muffled beat of club music mixed with random frat boy hollers. All attendees were over twenty, which made sense considering the circumstances. Very few college-age teens wished to parade around Halloween parties as dorky, immature ten-year-olds.

”What do we do now?” Chris said, eying the couple as they eagerly joined the party inside. “We can’t go in like this.”

”Maybe they’ll guzzle a few too many and forget about the box,” Nick suggested feebly.

”Not likely,” Meredith rejoined. “He may be dumb, but don’t forget evil.”

Slumped lifelessly against the base of a giant oak tree, Chris considered how much life had changed in the last half hour. Always the introspective type, he preferred to handle crises alone inside his own head. But this problem had outward consequences and no amount of philosophizing would grow back a single pubic hair or deepen his voice one note.

As the five minutes turned into thirty, the group resigned to fiddling with sticks and chatting about nothing whatsoever. Twenty yards away, the party raged on without one sighting of Michael or Jessica, who had managed to blend in with the twentysomethings. Ten o’clock approached and still no action. In the meantime they formulated various strategies for regaining control of the age-changing box, but few prompted more than halfhearted sighs of agreement. Time wasted away until they had exhausted every avenue. Each step of the way their young minds failed them. Defiance gradually gave way to acquiescence as each quietly rationalized away their reasons for wanting to grow up, while grasping for a silver lining.

”I’ll have, like, seven years to study for my SATs,” Nick proffered.

”No periods or PMS for awhile,” Meredith submitted.

”Car insurance is expensive,” Eric added. “More money for games.”

”You know, maybe this won’t...“ Chris started to throw in his two cents when frantic cries erupted from the house next door.

Peering through the foliage, they witnessed an exodus of partygoers - nearly all young children. Panic-stricken screams carried across the neighborhood. Draped in flopping, oversized dresses and uselessly large costumes, the kids ran in all directions, many tripping and plunging to their knees under their cumbersome adult garb.

”Damn!” Nick exclaimed, seeing the army of pre-teens flee in droves.

A confident Michael and Jessica appeared proudly on the porch as the last of the children fled. They watched with a wicked glee, like Caligula surveying his tortured, as the horrified students dispersed like elementary school kids running from an imaginary playground monster. High heels, cigarettes, wrinkled pantyhose, underwear, empty beer cans, bras, and other assorted remnants of adulthood littered the yard.

The party was decidedly over.

In mild shock, Chris spied his sister Chelsea darting topless down the sidewalk holding her waitress outfit at her waist like a towel. She was sobbing and wiping her nose. She couldn’t be more than seven years old.

Chris called out “Chelsea!” but the little girl kept running.

Stunned and frozen in place, he and the others failed to notice Michael and Jessica strolling arm-in-arm toward the bushes.

”God, you’re right,” Jessica declared, exhilarated. “This is so much fun! Did you see the look on Ashley’s face when she realized her boobs were gone?”

”Priceless.”

”What did she say...?Oh my god, I’m a boy!’?”

”Hey, hey,” Michael perked up, seeing Eric’s green tyrannosaurus costume behind the bushes. “Who do we have here? Godzilla?”

Hearing Michael’s voice the regressed teens instinctively scurried back from the edge of the sidewalk, but it was too late. They were spotted. Another step and Michael might will them down to first-graders before they could say “trick or treat.”

”Eric? Meredith? Is that you?” Michael said, surprised to run into his favorite classmates on such an opportune occasion. “Oh man, this is classic.”

”Meredith Watkins? Oh my god!” Jessica yelled in full cheerleader mode. “This is so awesome. How many Halloweens has it been, and I’ve never seen you regressed?”

”Yeah, imagine that,” Meredith mumbled under her breath.

”You’re such a cutie-pie! What happened?”

Bathed in the bluish glare of the moon in their trashy fifties get-up, Michael and Jessica together took on a menacing persona. Like a badass Hell’s Angel and his leather-clad chick slowly closing in, switchblades open, on some unsuspecting old man in a seedy Brooklyn back alley. Travolta’s Danny Zuko never felt so sinister.

”Enjoying your extended vacation in kiddie land?” Michael sneered. “I guess by now you’ve figured out you’re not growing back up.” He held the Chronos Configuration aloft. “Looking for this?”

Chris’s pulse jumped at the sight of the object.

Gazing intently at his adorable Batman outfit, Michael chuckled. “Where does he get those wonderful toys?”

Jessica didn’t waste time partaking in the ribbing either.

”Cute costume, Meredith. But it makes you look flat.”

”Very funny. And what are you dressed as?” Meredith crossed her arms. “A bitch as usual?”

Jessica circled the little wizard like a beauty contest judge, further unnerving the trembling girl. She stepped back and put her hand to her chin. “Ooh, very sweet. I give it a nine. But aren’t you a little young for Hermione?”

”Turn us back. Now!” she yelped.

”Hey Mere, look on the bright side. Now you and all your wannabe hippy friends won’t have to worry about being too busy to not shave your pits,” Jessica jeered.

”I...I shave my pits!”

”Well, it’s a moot point now, isn’t it?”

Meredith gritted her teeth. On a normal day, Jessica possessed an uncanny knack for getting under her skin. Now, at this new angle, Meredith found her doubly infuriating. Staring up at her flawless curves, she felt all the more vulnerable and small.

”Wanna see some real magic?” Jessica said, grabbing the Chronos from Michael’s hand. “Check this out.”

The sensation was all too familiar. A light tingling flowed upward from her feet to her head, accompanied by the impression of falling. Before Meredith could open her mouth to spew a string of invectives, the time-effects had taken hold, causing her to contract into her clothes. Her cheeks mushroomed.

”Nine... eight...” Jessica giddily counted down.

”Quit it!” the youthening grade-schooler shouted, her voice ascending into a squeaky soprano. Her face registered the changes as Jessica ticked off the years, first with a subtle row of chocolate freckles, followed by the arrival of a cute, puggish nose. Bewildered, Meredith’s usual wit faltered, leaving her grappling for the right combination of curse words to lob at her regresser.

No longer able to keep his silence, Chris stepped in front of Meredith and covered her with his arms. “Stop it!”

”Looky here,” Michael said, reclaiming the device from Jessica and tossing it teasingly back and forth in his hands. “A little hero. Why didn’t you mention your new boyfriend here, Mere?”

Meredith didn’t answer; the device had left her a four-year-old swamped in a Hogwarts uniform.

Only now did true fear strike Chris...a kind of delayed response. He had thrown himself into the line of fire without even realizing it. The impulse to help Meredith was merely reflex, and he already regretted his daring attempt at rescue. At the same time he was proud, proud he had the balls to confront such obvious bullies, even if it meant those balls might soon be shrinking in size.

”Well, isn’t that sweet. I certainly wouldn’t want to separate you two lovebirds. Care to join your wittle girlfwiend?” Michael mocked, focusing his energy on the caped crusader.

Still guarding Meredith, Chris realized he could do nothing but allow himself to regress. And in a matter of seconds his age dropped to nine, then eight, then seven. The first casualty: his pants. A devastating loss that prompted Chris to quickly cover himself, but not quickly enough to keep Michael and Jessica from being treated to a brief peek at his shrinking genitals. At that moment, all he could think of was Nick’s guarantee earlier that evening: “We won’t embarrass you.” Not only was this experience the very height of embarrassment, but he was quite literally bare assed.

”Why, Batman,” Jessica sang nastily, “I think your codpiece was overkill.”

When Michael finished, Chris turned around and discovered he was eye to eye with Meredith. They weren’t babies...but they were close. Preschool at best. With tears welling up in her doe eyes, Meredith did what she could; she opened her arms and hugged her little Dark Knight in shining armor.

”Why so serious?” Danny mocked. A clich?d quote by now, but Sandy found it uproariously funny. Soon both Nick and Eric were on the fast track to babyhood too. Their costumes bunching up into wads of bright material, Superman and Tyrannosaurus Rex became even less intimidating.

”No, please!” a five-year-old Eric pleaded, with Nick following close behind. When the changes halted, their costumes completely covered them. The real terror set in when they realized they could only crawl out on all fours.

”They’re... babies!” Meredith said, preoccupied by the image of her two best friends as naked infants.

Tucked away, under cover of shadow, Mr. Renson monitored the anarchy unfolding by the street’s edge. An atmosphere of alarm pervaded; worried parents wandered aimlessly onto their lawns in search of some clue why their kids had not aged. Distant sirens signaled the influx of ambulances and police into the city. Cell phone servers jammed as distraught former teens feverishly called friends and relatives, all craving the latest news, and why, despite all assurances, their bodies had not changed one whit in the last hour.

Powerless to wrest the object from Michael, Mr. Renson ran through his options and finally settled on a risky but clever mindtrick. If temptation to use the device increased over time and only the holder of the Chronos could determine alterations in age, then Michael must be tricked into regressing himself, he reasoned.

Stepping boldly into the light, Mr. Renson advanced toward Michael and Jessica, stopping only four or five yards from the volatile teens.

”Mr. Renson,” Michael announced. “Still haven’t found any fitting clothes, I see.”

”Be careful with that thing,” the stern child warned. “You wouldn’t want to turn yourselves into babies.”

”Why the hell would we do that?” Jessica snarled.

”Don’t think about turning yourselves into babies because it’ll happen.” Mr. Rensen inched one step closer. “Turning yourselves into babies. Whatever you do, don’t think about it.”

”We’re not!” Michael growled uncomfortably.

”Not even subconsciously,” Mr. Renson continued, his eyes glowing with an alien intensity. “Think about anything except turning yourselves into babies.”

Michael’s jeans loosened slightly. A recognizable tickle swam up his legs.

”Fight it,” Mr. Rensen encouraged them. “Don’t think about turning yourselves into babies, about your own bodies shrinking, changing, regressing back to early childhood. Block it out of your mind.”

”Michael?!” Jessica barked. “You aren’t...are you?“

”I can’t help it!” he admitted. Suddenly thinking of his own regression became like an itch he was forbidden to scratch.

”Well, stop it!” she begged, adjusting her bra and moving naturally to snag the object.

”I can handle it!” Michael yelled, determined to expel the idea from his head. But the more he concentrated the more it embedded itself on the perimeter of his thoughts. Distraction became key and Michael found himself hunting for suitable targets. Centering his attention on Mr. Rensen, he succeeded in whittling a few more years from the pale young boy while he battled crazy, haphazard thoughts of himself growing littler.

”You don’t want to become little babies, do you, Michael?” a four-year-old Mr. Renson repeated, his hypnotic voice climbing higher and higher.

”This is ridiculous!” a fifteen-year-old Jessica finally blurted out, lunging forward to snatch the object. “You’re making us younger, you idiot!”

Caught off guard Michael lost his grip and the box went tumbling onto the pavement with a loud crack. Chris automatically dove toward the device and landed just a few inches short. Soon Jessica bore down on him, forcing Chris to push the object farther down the street...in Mr. Rensen’s direction.

Moving as stealthily as any stubby preschooler could, Mr. Rensen retrieved the Chronos a split second before Jessica crawled to the spot. Closing his eyes like a Buddhist monk immersed in deep meditation, the now coatless, uncovered four-year-old dedicated every ounce of concentration to one goal. The Chronos Configuration illuminated...turning a deep, pulsating violet hue.

”Noooooo!” Jessica shrieked, her chest deflating like two punctured party balloons. A decade flew by in seconds. Michael shared the same boat, his body whirling rapidly backwards in time, climaxing with his two-year-old bottom plopping gently onto the concrete. Hair still styled into a slick pompadour, he looked like a babyfied Fonze.

Mr. Renson slowly opened his eyes to see two year-old infants, nude, wriggling on beds of wrinkled, discarded clothes. Predictably, both started to wail.

Oddly unfazed by the closely averted disaster a few moments before, Mr. Rensen dusted himself off, retrieved his clothes, and matured to thirteen in a matter of seconds (making sure his jacket hung low enough to cover you-know-what). Nick and Eric soon discovered they were once again old enough to walk.

”Kids these days,” Mr. Rensen muttered. “No respect.”

”What about us?” Chris asked, his arms still wrapped tightly around little Meredith.

”Put your costumes back on and I’ll age all of you back to ten,” the bare-legged teen told them. “When everyone returns home, I’ll set everything right.”

With that, Mr. Renson knelt down and scooped up the two gurgling troublemakers.

”Now we’ve got all the time in the world.”

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Later that night on Chris’s front porch...

An eerie half-moon lit the causeways lining Westwynd Street. Crickets chirped in unison, sending waves of sound across the neighborhood. Grey and black clouds drifted harmlessly along above them, trees shifted gracefully in the breeze. Chris ran his fingers through his hair after a well-deserved shower while Meredith resituated her top.

Relieved to inhabit their old, established bodies, the seventeen-year-olds traded thankful glances. Chris had his sideburns back, and a nice bass voice to match. Meredith welcomed the return of her breasts and promised never to talk down about them again.

”So, what about Michael and Jessica?” Chris inquired, leaning casually against the doorway.

”Normally Mr. Rensen never leaves time out of whack because the council told him it may cause trouble. Everything always returns to normal after Halloween.”

”But... ?”

”The word is, this time, he’s going to make an exception.”

Gazing up at the October sky, Chris said nothing, replying only with a satisfied smirk.

”Thanks for standing up for me back there,” Meredith said, smiling softly and averting her eyes a little. “I’m serious. You make a pretty brave fifth-grader.”

”Well, I don’t usually get naked that early on a first date, you know, but...“ Chris tried to laugh it off, but the unavoidable awkwardness of the evening remained fresh in everyone’s mind.

”Does that mean we’re on for a second date?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Chris thought for a second, scratched his head, and looked nervously at the ground. “Well, I’m new here, so...”

”What are you talking about?” Meredith said, a hint of lighthearted resentment in her voice. “You grew up here, silly.”

”Well, in a manner of speaking...”

A few clumsy seconds of silence passed.

”So?”

Chris paused a moment, reached just inside the door, pulled out a mini Three Musketeers and tossed it in Meredith’s little plastic pumpkin.

”Trick or treat,” he said, grinning.

As if on cue, the winds finally died down and the trees stopped whistling. It was midnight and a ghostly calm settled on Rome. For Chris, however, it was a provisional calm. The stars had realigned this time, but technology like the kind that nearly redrew the age landscape of his small town couldn’t be uninvented.

“Does anyone else...” Chris asked, trailing off with the wind.

“Does anyone else what?”

“... know Mr. Rensen’s secret?”

“God, I hope not. Don’t you think we’d know if someone did? It would be all over the news. Why?”

“Nothing. I’m just thinking...“ Chris said, trying his best to relax, knowing something he wished he didn’t know.[/quote][/quote][/quote]

 

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