"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Jude said. His eyes scanned the email again.
We regret to inform you that you recently came into contact with a person who has a confirmed case of the M0-05 virus. This case has been verified by the Department of Pathogens Control. Per regulation, you have been notified, and you will soon receive an at home testing kit. In the meantime, isolate yourself from all others, but particularly those between the ages of twenty and fifty-five as this age range is at highest risk of infection.
If you present symptoms prior to receiving your test result, you are legally obligated to notify the DPC. A list of early presenting symptoms is attached. You will be provided necessary items for your quarantine as well as subsequent care should the infection prove permanent.
"Shit," he cursed again. His first thoughts went to who he knew that had it. Carla at work called out sick the previous two days. She seemed the most likely, but that meant everyone at the office would have been exposed. Millions of cases already, thousands more per day, everyone kept telling him it was a matter of time before someone he knew got it. That didn't make it real though. The email from DPC sure as shit did.
Still. Even with exposure, risk of infection is low. Carla and I didn't even see much of each other this week. She skipped lunch, that was lucky.
His mind raced through all the failed protocols at his job site. Spaces meant to be cleaned every hour maybe got a disinfectant twice a day. Shifts meant to hold ten people still held twenty. Even if they didn't eat lunch at the same time as Carla, everyone still used the same break room.
Shit!
Jude knew the initial symptoms without having to read the email any further. Sweating, general increase in appetite, and ideation of sexual fantasies. A year earlier, when the virus's first cases showed up, it read like a gag. People getting super horny and developing an insatiable appetite for milk. Technically lactose, but in the end, it was always milk. So far as anyone knew, the virologists still hadn't worked out where the virus originated. They knew how it worked, but biochemistry rarely made for interesting headlines when the alternative was "Virus Turns People into Milk Obsessed Sex Freaks." And those were only the initial headlines. The virus spread and mutated. People mutated right along with it.
Jude looked around the small apartment suddenly aware of everything he'd touched that day. The virus spread through contact, but lingered on surfaces for up to six days. Someone grabs the door of a bank and five days later some unlucky sap grabs the virus right off that handle, dooming himself to one hell of a month, and possibly the rest of his life. For some damnable reason, the symptoms remained permanent for some people while subsiding for others. In the early days, permanent symptoms seemed like a dream come true. When it became clear it also meant you'd spend the rest of your life being looked after by the DPC, becoming a sex animal seemed less appealing.
"Ok, Jude," he told himself. "You have to start thinking your way through this. You definitely, definitely don't have it, but you gotta act like you do. Which means -- fuck, what are we going to do with Marie." The first thing he wanted to do is scream "I told you so" in her face, which would be a terrible idea as she would definitely catch it as well. When the lockdowns started, most people separated out by gender. A house full of guys with M0-05 was rowdy and gross, but at least it wasn't a porn shoot. Couples who caught it leaned into the idea, stocking up on condoms whether they wound up using them or not. The idea of spending a lockdown with his friend seemed like a terrible idea, especially if one of them got sick. Yet, here they were.
He grabbed his phone and pulled up her number.
What do I say? Hey, Marie, wanted to give you a heads up that -- despite the fact that I think of you like a sister -- a virus might cook our brains to the point where we're rutting animals, so maybe crash at a hotel for a while. That is, if you haven't already been infected.
He sighed and put the phone back down.
It was a mess. Marie never formally moved in with Jude's family, but her parents effectively abandoned her when she hit high school. Rather than see a good kid go rotten, Jude's parents took the wayward girl in. Made for an awkward few months, but Jude and Marie had been friends for years and living together came easier than they expected. They dated for a week, but it wasn't really dating so much as hanging out together with the slightest possibility of romantic entanglement. A possibility that evaporated when they kissed and realized they had zero interest in one another. They did seem to share luck, though. When Jude moved out, both he and Marie thought they'd parted ways. A year later, she needed a place to stay, and Jude needed someone to help with rent. It worked out until some microscopic creatures in South America started getting a little too creative.
He grabbed the phone, intending to call her and tell her to wait in her car, at least. He thought they could pool their money to get her a place at a hotel. Once she got a negative test, she could go stay with his parents again. That seemed reasonable, he thought, until she opened the door and stepped inside the apartment. He sat at the kitchen table, mouth agape, as she hung up her purse on a coat hook. "Shit."
"What's the matter?" she asked, pulling off her mask and gloves. She dropped the mask into a bin to be washed. The gloves went in a separate box to be tossed. She moved to the kitchen and washed her hands. All of it had become so routine over the past months, and now Jude realized how ridiculous it had all been in the end.
"I was about to call you and tell you to stay away from the apartment for a while. I got an email from the DPC, someone who came in contact with me tested positive."
"Fuck off," she said with a huff of laughter. "What is it really?" She dried off her hands and stood at the sink looking at him.
Instead of answering, Jude simply looked at her. He realized how little he actually looked at Marie. He didn't see anything new about her, perhaps a few lines around her eyes which he'd not seen before. Otherwise, she looked the same as she always did, short with mousy brown hair that she kept pulled back in a short pony tail. She wore t-shirts of bands she'd never even listened to and jeans which always had at least one hole in them. Most guys thought she was cute. Jude was indifferent, but if pressed, he would admit to complimenting her ass from time to time. This was the woman now at greater risk than him. For men, the changes could be rough. For women, they were life altering. "I'm not kidding, Marie."
Her grin slowly faded into a tight smile. "I swear if you are, Jude."
He shook his head.
"God dammit." She slapped her hand against the countertop. "Do you know how careful I've been? My hands are raw from washing them and wearing those damn gloves. Now you're telling me I might be trapped in a house with an infected?"
"Gee, thanks for the sympathy."
"We're fucked, Jude! Absolutely fucked." She closed her hands over her nose. "So, what you got an email? What does that mean?"
Jude showed her the message on his laptop. Marie read through it a few times. "I think it was Carla from work. She was out sick for two days. Before you ask, no I didn't have a lot of contact with her, but I was around her. I could have picked it up."