Chapter Nine
It had been a few strange days since his meeting with Eric, and much of it had been spent running tests on Audrey, trying to figure out what was happening with her. Without warning, it seemed like Audrey's window had shortened. When Phil had come back from Eric's house, it had been almost like she'd been going nine or days without his cum, instead of the four she'd actually gone without. That wasn't good, and had Phil worried.
The tests had come back that there wasn't anything wrong with her, only that she'd actually fought off a new variant of DuoHalo, and that information had sent all of the base into a tizzy. It was odd, because
nobody else
on the base had contracted it, as far as anyone could find.
The Quaranteam serum was doing its job. They'd developed a rapid results test that could determine DuoHalo was in someone's bloodstream, or if someone had recent antibodies developed by the serum, and Audrey's blood had new antibodies, but nobody else on the base had them, not even Phil or Linda themselves, and they spent most of their time with Audrey, day or night.
There had been a few hours when Audrey had run into town the previous day, and that was when they'd determined she'd caught it, so they'd checked in with the restaurant she'd stopped in at, and found that the owner and the staff had all gone through similar symptoms over the previous day, but nobody could be sure where they'd caught it from.
The track-and-trace system they'd built allowed them to check with everyone who'd come into the restaurant that day, and while the ones in the afternoon had gone through similar symptoms, the ones who had come in early in the day as well as those in the evening hadn't. That meant there was a very narrow window of about two hours in the middle of the day where someone had brought the DuoHalo variant in.
It wasn't possible to figure out who specifically brought it in, simply because many of the people who came in during the lunch rush paid in cash, and the owner's security cameras hadn't got great angles for when several people had come in simultaneously and picked up orders.
That was a problem, but the fact was that the serum was doing its job.
It wasn't this particular variant Phil was worried about.
It was the next one.
And the next one.
And the
next
one.
They'd been theorizing and preparing for the possibility, but this was the first one that had broken through into the protective shield they'd tried to make by locking in people within New Eden. They were mostly keeping folks from leaving and returning regularly, but there were a small handful of people who could go in and out, simply because they were too important to not be allowed to. The idea was to not let many people in, in an effort to try and minimize the chance of exposure, even with their layers of protection.
From their initial research into the antibodies, the DuoHalo variant that had briefly infected Audrey, which they were called 4.b, wasn't as strong or deadly as the original strain, but it did seem more persistent, and it also seemed to be mucking about with the Quaranteam serum's protocols.
For the first few days after they'd fought off 4.b, the person's sexual needs window was shrunken by around 35%, although it only seemed to have that impact on women. The men who'd come in contact with it hadn't even blipped, nary a cough or a runny nose, at least those who'd momentarily had it within the walls of New Eden.
Once the first variant appeared, it was like opening Pandora's Box. There wasn't just one, there were dozens of variants popping up all over the nation, and even more across the world. Many of them weren't that troubling, but a handful of them were starting to interact with the Quaranteam serum in odd and unusual ways, none of which made Phil feel any better.
The only bit of good news amid all the chaos was that the serum was doing what it was supposed to, keeping people infected by DuoHalo from having serious health problems, including death. The worst symptoms that people protected by Quaranteam serum were getting were: headaches, exhaustion, vertigo, nausea and intense voracious appetites, both gastronomical and sexual. That was a far cry from those who were unvaccinated, who were still dying at an 80-85% rate in men, and a 15-20% rate in women.
Word about the serum was starting to spread from survivors to the unvaccinated, and Phil had done everything he could to make sure their inoculations weren't just focusing on wealthy, affluent areas, but also hitting industrial and inner city areas as well. There had been some pushback from untrusting people, but they were starting to spread the word about how high the fatality rates were.
As Phil had expected, it had helped that he'd suggested they send in non-white members of the Air Force and the CDC to demonstrate the serum and its effectiveness. It wasn't going well, but at least it was making a little bit of progress. Lots of people, rightfully so, brought up the Tuskagee experiments. Phil empathized, he really did, but it was important to him that they did everything they could to get people protected and put together with serum carrying partners.