Anthony thought he died. He distinctly remembered dying at some point around dawn when his face was pressed against the cool rim of a, thankfully, clean toilet bowl. Sure, his dead body eventually got up, washed his face, and went back to bed, but that didn't change the fact that he definitely died. Now, his disembodied soul laid in the bed waiting to be taken off to some other plane of existence. His head swirled with the slow lurch of recalibration as his liver returned his body to some level of functionality. The sounds of Luke moving around in the other bedroom gave Anthony the idea that he might still be alive. To keep that trend going, he decided he needed water.
Staggering out to the small kitchen in the cabin took more willpower and concentration than expected. He successfully filled a glass from the tap and drank it all down in one long gulp. It tasted slightly metallic and not the least bit refreshing. The water sloshed in his stomach as he meandered back to his room. Whatever plans they'd made for the day would need to be scrapped, he thought. Pulling the heavy drapes over the window pushed the room into complete darkness. Before collapsing, he turned the air conditioning to its lowest setting. Icy air gushed out of the vents as he flopped into the bed, hoping sleep would take him back. As that didn't seem instantly forthcoming, he picked up his phone from the bedside table. A notification for a voice mail caught his attention.
The call came from his friend Marcus. Though garbled and static filled, most of the message recorded correctly. "Anthony, pick up man, shit. These videos are fucking crazy. They're turning us into freaks! Keep trying to message people the videos, but messaging won't work. You can find them though if you search for 8batch. You and Joy need to get somewhere safe, 'specially with her. I mean, shit, you know. Oh, fuck. I just remembered where you are. You're up on that damn mountain with Luke and his family. Oh...nah, man that's...look, you gotta tell them folks to make a plan. Separate out or something. Maybe none of you are infected yet, but if one of you..." The message ended.
Little of it processed through Anthony's addled mind as another swirl of equilibrium passed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep. Instead, thoughts began racing through his head. As of late, drinking resulted in a lot more shame during his hangovers than the sort of euphoric humor he initially experienced when he started drinking. Anthony wondered if he said anything offensive to anyone during the hazy period between 11:00 and when he finally passed out. Mostly, he worried about something he might have said to Joy. He certainly had the thoughts while the alcohol ruled his mind. Thoughts like, "Lean over and tell her you want to cum in her ass" which seemed perfectly suitable to him at the time, but in the fitful sleep of a hangover seemed like a quick path to a slap in the face and the loss of the hottest girl he would ever get.
He dipped into sleep a few times as he rolled around in the cold dark. As his body reassembled itself into something resembling a functional human, Anthony realized that most of his ill feeling was from lack of sleep and the physical toll of being violently ill at four in the morning. By the time the door to his room opened, he felt much like himself if still tired and irritable. He expected to see Luke barging in, beer in hand, ready to force them back into the role of jovial vacationers. Anthony was even somewhat ready for that inevitability. The sun would feel good on his skin, and the last dregs of his hangover could be vanquished by a nice beer. Instead, soft, bare feet padded into the room followed by, "Babe?"
Anthony sat up so fast that he gave himself a dizzy spell. A burst of adrenaline made him consider the state of himself. He stank of booze and sweat, and hadn't showered since early the previous morning. "Joy? Shit, you surprised me."
"Sorry," she said, sitting down on the foot of the bed. "I wanted to come talk to you."
His heart pounded faster.
God, I did say something stupid. She's come to break up with me. I'm going to have to drive her down the mountain in the most awkward silence ever and try to figure out how to get her to take me back before --
"Yeah? Uh, what about? I'm pretty hungover..." As his eyes adjusted to being open and upright, he saw she was wearing a tight shirt and running shorts. She clearly had been up and moving for a while, which put her at a significant advantage. And, though he wasn't sure, she didn't seem to be wearing a bra.
Joy fumbled her hands in her lap. "It's...well, it's a little hard to explain, really. I don't even understand it. Kat and I went out running this morning, and..."
Sensing this might not be entirely about him, Anthony scooted up in the bed, propping himself on the headboard and pooling the sheets across his lap. "Something happen? Did you two get in an argument? You've been acting weird since we left."
"No," Joy said quickly. "It...look it sounds insane, but we made out and --" She stopped, some grander confession teetering on her lips before she dismissed it.
The concept of his overtly sexy girlfriend making out with Kat didn't register in Anthony's head. Instead, his mind became dulled into a blank slate. "Huh? You...huh?"
Words tumbled out of Joy's mouth in a frantic dialogue, "There's something wrong with Kat, and maybe me, too. I think just her though. She keeps saying its 'one of those things', like its normal to lactate during your period. She's not on her period, though, believe me. Her body changed overnight. Her butt's bigger. Her boobs are completely different. Even the way she holds her head is off or something. Like she's a pod person one minute and then back to being Kat the next, trying to hide how freaked out she is by the stuff that's happening to her. And then yesterday with the stunt she pulled with Luke in the woods not like thirty feet from where we were all hanging out. That definitely should have been a warning sign, but no, it's just good fucking in the woods, right? No, that's fucking crazy. I don't even know Kat that well, but I know her well enough to say that pulling out Luke's dick outdoors while his family is cooking out within earshot is way outside of what she would do under normal circumstances. She's sick, not like morally, but physically, like with a virus or something. That's gotta be it. Maybe like a pituitary thing cranking her body full of hormones or --"
"Joy!" Anthony cut her off, leaning forward to take her hand into his. "None of what you're saying makes any fucking sense, but you're freaking me out."
She didn't respond. Instead, her eyes locked on Anthony's hand holding her wrist. She giggled. "I'm sorry. Really. It's been a weird morning. Feels I'm playing Jenga and pulling out all the planks on the bottom rows one after the other. I'm scared and don't know what to do because all the choices are bad. And then there's this...other way of thinking pushing on my brain ever since...and that was only an hour ago."
"Ever since what?" Anthony asked. Though his personal fear had subsided, he was as alarmed as he could be in his current state. Joy had never been anything other than smiles and laughter. Now he was finally witnessing the other side of the coin, he figured.
She bit her lip. "I told you," she answered. "We made out. Two nights ago when we were hanging out. We did it as a joke, but you and Luke didn't notice."
