The Libido Virus: Refugee

Micah never knew how hot it could be in Alabama. He grew up with air conditioning, quickly scurrying from one cool room to another, seeing only the brief interludes of sweltering humidity or occasional long days of yard work. He looked longingly at the useless machines on the side of the gymnasium. The power cut out two weeks ago. The army only fired up the generators for an emergency, and, so far, the heat had been deemed manageable.

One of the northern military groups thought up Project ISER. It was a stretch to still call them all the American military. Without a central command, multiple armies controlled different regions of the US. Sometimes they worked together. Sometimes they didn't. It seemed a stretch to call them armies, too. They all generally agreed on ISER, though, as the best way to preserve humanity after the failure at Chattanooga.

Isolate, Secure, Establish, and Repel. Isolate a population in order to ensure no further contamination. Secure the settlement by constructing a perimeter. Establish the settlement by securing supplies and reinforcing the walls. Repel any infected.

As part of this effort, Micah wound up at his former high school which gave his settlement its name, Briarfield. The school functioned surprisingly well for housing. The classrooms converted easily into small apartments for families, sometimes divided in half or shared between extended family groups.

The school itself provided space and facilities for fifteen hundred students day in and day out. With good old American know-how, the army stretched that to cover forty-five hundred. The settlement incorporated not just the campus, but the surrounding community. Briarfield was an isolated country school, but forty houses and the land were able to be brought in to the settlement without issue. The residents of those houses took in other families, turning single bedrooms into lodging for a family of three or more. The surrounding grounds transformed into whatever was needed. The army provided a large array of tents and other small structures for outdoor kitchens, showers, latrines, triage, and their own outpost centers. Around the larger tents sprung up hundreds of smaller tents, which originally had a great deal of order and design to their layout. Once people started to move in by the hundreds, they transformed these efficient structures into a sprawling mass of confusion and congestion. A full blown refugee camp developed in only a few short days.

Micah considered himself very lucky to be in Briarfield. The military commandeered one of the school buildings as a central command center. As a result, an extra layer of security encircled the campus. The intention was to build multiple walls between each section of the settlement, ultimately expanding further out. The rush of people and the myriad of problems which came with it moved that goal quite far down the list. Still, the campus grounds were well defended by a security fence and an array of military vehicles. This eliminated, or at least severely deterred, a lot of the rampant theft and violence that plagued the camps.

Even ignoring the security, the school provided actual bathrooms and showers with hot water. Much of the school ran off of natural gas which seemed not to be on the ration list. The kitchens were almost fully functional. For the first few days after the power lapsed, everyone ate like kings as all the perishable food was cooked and passed out. The feast quickly turned to famine as rations started. Many worried about the food situation, and the military seemed uneasy about it as well. Estimating the full population of the camps was difficult. At least four thousand lived on the school grounds. Another five thousand crammed into the main camp surrounding the campus. Another thousand or more lived in the outlying houses. Feeding ten thousand people with no new supplies didn't seem possible, but no one wanted to admit it. Some people left, but not many. Inside the fences it was crowded, dirty, and potentially a food scarcity, but outside the walls were the infected.

Micah had followed the early days closely. He, rather proudly, was not one of the deniers. Atlanta collapsed. Memphis and Nashville after that. The fiasco at Mobile finally broke the state into a full panic. The last national scale report he had seen indicated that the infected had overwhelmed the majority of high population cities and followed the flight of people as they tried to escape to the coast or to the mountains. It was a surreal choice to make. Run? Where? The government initially urged everyone to stay in their homes and avoid the infected, but after Chattanooga and military decentralization, the idea of safe zones started to sound appealing. Micah packed a bag and headed over to Briarfield. He settled in and two days passed before the hundreds of refugees from the north and east started to arrive.

After the initial rush, things settled down. People were terrified of the infection getting in during the first weeks, but no one reported anything. The military went out on patrols and every night announced that the surrounding region was still entirely free of the infection. Other survivors gave reports of their journey, indicating that the infected were confined to the major cities and didn't seem to be spreading any further. This reinforced Micah's theory of an intelligence behind the spread of the virus. He'd overheard some of the soldiers talking about "queens" and "alphas" which lined up with things he'd seen on the Internet before everything fell apart, not to mention the reports of Chattanooga. It worried him.

He munched on a bag of mixed nuts he had squirreled away while sitting in the shade and looking down at the camps. Though campfires were supposedly prohibited, he could see dozens of small smoke pillars rising up from all over the camp. The hill on which the school grounds sat wasn't steep, but the lazy slant of the lower Appalachians was considerably noticeable over a decent distance. Micah enjoyed watching the strangely synchronous movements of the people.

"Heya," said voice from behind him. Micah turned.

"Afternoon," Micah replied to the soldier. "How's it going?"

The soldier, Jacob, looked around for a moment before dropping to the grass beside Micah. "Another hot fucking day," Jacob said with a sigh. He pulled a canteen up and unscrewed the lid before offering it to Micah. Micah shook his head and indicated a water bottle of his own. "Oh. That come from the taps? You're lucky. We've got people in the camp using the creek water. Most of them aren't boiling it first. A hundred yards upstream we've got jackasses too lazy to go to the latrines, pissing in the creek."

Micah had grown accustomed to these complaints from Jacob. They'd met in the first days of Micah's stay at Briarfield and developed a loose friendship. The soldiers were under orders to remain distant from the populace, for fear of losing the authoritarian control, but Micah was as separate from the camp population as any of the soldiers. "I thought they were rigging up more running water taps?"

Jacob drained his canteen. "We're hitting some problems outside of the fence. County water systems were designed to have X number of people spread out over a whole county. Suddenly, we have a small city pop up out of nowhere. Teams are working as quickly as they can, but our guys are trained with short term solutions. The longer this goes on, the more we have to rely on other ideas. I spent most of the day doing intake interviews with people. I can tell ya, if we ever need to middle manage the shit out of something, we've got that covered. Not so many engineers or plumbers down there, though."

Micah chose his words carefully. He knew that Jacob liked to talk, but too pointed of a question could make the soldier clam up. "I overheard some of the kitchen staff talking today. They said they're bringing in a big shipment tonight." Micah offered the soldier some of the mixed nuts.

Jacob took a greedy handful. "I've heard some chatter about that too. McGill's group. They go pretty close to Huntsville. Not sure what they would bring back though. That's a patrol group, not a supply one. I mean, if they can fit a crate of marshmallows on their transport they do, but that's not their priority. Ammo, most likely. All the gun shops have been cleared out, but they've been hunting down some warehouses."

Micah nodded along. "Any other news from outside? I went down to the camps this morning, talked to a couple from South Carolina. They said it's pretty desolate out there."

Jacob looked warily at the other man on the hilltop. "Happen to catch that couple's name?"

Micah returned a blank stare, "Phillips, maybe. Could have been Ethridge."

The soldier smiled, tight lipped. "No, nothing new from beyond the fences. At least, not that I've heard. The people I talked to today were mostly up from the south. One couple over from Mississippi. They fled Memphis. Lost their twenty year old daughter in the mix. They were on an evacuation bus headed out of the city. One of the big ones, you call 'em alphas, knocked the whole thing over. Husband managed to push his wife out of the emergency exit, but the daughter was trapped underneath a seat. The infected started pouring in the bus, hopping on the first human they could. The father stayed, trying to free his daughter until she started calling to the infected."

Jacob shuddered slightly. "It's bizarre. The father described it vividly. He told me all of this exact detail like his brain was burned with the image of it. Maybe it's a form of shock or something, but this was a normal dude, fifty-five, spent his whole life selling insurance. Then he starts talking about this attack, and he sounds like he's some old lecher who had two weeks of filming porn under his belt before he spent a lifetime of scouting talent in grimy strip clubs. He told me his daughter started calling out for the alpha to come and quote, 'shove his thick cock in my wet little pussy.'"

Micah had heard similar stories. "You think it's some kind of latent symptom?"

The idea made Jacob uneasy, "Like, they're infected but not changing? How would that work?"

This wasn't a new idea to Micah. He'd heard several stories of how the presence of an infected could make someone go into a sort of trance. "Maybe like a fugue state. Happened to Agatha Christie."

"Who?"

Micah winced, "An author, not really the important part. She disappeared and showed back up ten days later with no memory of where she'd been or what she'd been doing. It can happen with deep psychiatric trauma." Micah waved his hand around in an explanatory fashion. "We have a set way people act. We don't start tearing our clothes off and going at it like animals. When people stop acting that way, it can be very psychologically jarring. Our minds can't process it, and we lock up."

Jacob nodded along, but didn't seem to be following. "So how does the virus cause all that?"

"No, it's not the virus causing it. Well, probably not. I suppose a sudden change in physiology, the brain swelling for example or a sudden increase in hormones, could trigger it. Even if it's not, the shock of seeing society devolve in front of your eyes leaves you standing there watching this madness play out, and increases the likelihood that you're going to be exposed."

"Shell shock," Jacob mused. "Doesn't explain why people would walk into it though. Or Chattanooga."

Micah looked out over the camp. He could see the distant shapes of people, but couldn't discern a face or a single figure. It was all just an amorphous mass, shifting and writhing. One limb moved for food, while another moved to relieve its bowels. "Do you know who Nietzsche was?"

Jacob shrugged. "Nope."

"Nietzsche said that if you stare long enough into an abyss, the abyss will stare back into you."

Jacob nodded and sat silently for a moment beside Micah. Then replied, "The fuck does that mean?"

"This is the hard part. This life in a refugee camp. The ones who gave in don't have to deal with the smell or the thirst. So you look at an infected long enough...and we say infected because we don't like to say what they really are. What they really are is an ideal version of the thing we've lusted after our whole lives. All of human evolution has been to enhance survival and promote breeding. Now we have the infected, almost impervious to harm and the exaggerated sexual features we've always wanted. Somewhere, probably in Atlanta, there's a scene like this one. Except instead of a camp of miserable humans, it's a massive orgy of the infected, their perfect bodies writhing against one another as the males move from one female to the next. If we were watching that, instead of this, wouldn't you want to go join up?"

Jacob started to gather his things. "Fuck, man. You're starting to sound like one of those survivors. You should do what I tell them to do. Find a quiet spot and rub one out. Then get back to the problems in front of us." He finished adjusting his gear. "Sun's almost down. You should head back to your room. I'll see ya around."

Jacob walked away. Micah spent a while longer watching the slow movements of the camp. Orange light scattered across the hilltop and finally a slightly cooler wind picked up. Micah stood up, stretching his sore legs and headed to his room.

***

Micah crossed over to the military staging grounds on his way back to his room. As he neared the checkpoint, he saw a flurry of activity happening around the command building. Jacob loitered near the checkpoint as Micah arrived, "What's going on?"

Jacob shook his head and didn't make eye contact. "Something's not right," Jacob muttered. Several soldiers emerged from the barracks. They carried weapons and moved quickly into the command center. Jacob whispered to Micah, "You should get out of sight. I should have reported in a while back." Jacob moved forward to the checkpoint and flashed his credentials before heading into the base.

Most of the soldiers behind the military checkpoint looked more anxious than usual. The guard was doubled as well. They clearly expected something, but Micah didn't know what. He'd been in the camps that morning and everything had been fine, even somewhat upbeat relative to the normal mood. He and Jacob had talked about unrest before, but that didn't seem to be the issue. Micah continued on towards his room, but stopped at the sound of a commotion.

From his position, Micah could see all the way down to the very end of the camp. A makeshift road had been constructed which led from the command to the various camp exits. Most of the scavenger groups or patrols exited from the south gate, the one furthest from the command center. Several trucks stopped at the south gate, and a crowd started to moving towards the area from the camp. Soldiers started to pour out of the barracks and command center. They began throwing gear and provisions into their transports.

Micah went to the fence and called out to one of the guards, "Hey! Hey! What's happening? Why are they loading those trucks?"

The guard slammed the butt of his rifle against the fence. "Go back to your room."

Micah backed away. He moved down the fence line, keeping his eyes on the flurry of people and boxes. Many of the high level civilians, the doctors and other personnel, appeared and started to help organize the chaos. A chain of men formed, and they were quickly moving things from the barracks building into the trucks. Micah spotted Jacob. "Jacob! What's happening?"

Jacob didn't have an opportunity to answer. The army had put up a system of loudspeakers through the camp for announcements. They hummed in the air as they came to life. A loud squeal caused the world to quiet as people turned their attention to the speakers.

"Attention people of Briarfield. This is Captain Terence McGill. You have been lied to. The men who call themselves my superiors have been telling you the horrors of the outside world. They've been trapping you here in their last bastion of control because they are terrified of what it means to go outside those fences. I have been outside of the fences. I have seen what the enemy looks like. They call it a virus. They call them infected or unclean. These are the words of old men, scared and weak. I call it a cure. I call them our salvation."

The south gate had a huge crowd around it. Two of the trucks began moving slowly up through the camp. Men stood on top of the trucks, throwing something into the crowd. Food, Micah realized. A third truck pulled aside from the crowd and drove directly up the road toward the command center. In the bed of the truck was a large crate. Guards moved into a defensive position.

The broadcast continued, "Do not worry. I have been to their cities. I have laid my eyes upon their queen. She is beauty incarnate. We are happy to be fodder for her brood. Join me, brothers and sisters, and together we will form our new world. Together we wil---"

The broadcast cut off as a soldier sliced through the system's power cables. "Fucking lunatic!"

Shouts rose from the camp. The truck approaching Micah and the command post suddenly turned, doing a full 180 before backing up towards the lower gate at a high speed. The truck smashed into the flimsy chain fence, clattering over the ruined defense as men dove out of the way. The metal fencing caught in the wheels and dragged, bringing the heavy truck to a full stop. The crate in the cargo area of the truck was clearly visible. Soldiers poured out of the compound, their rifles trained on the truck. Micah felt hands on his shoulder, pulling him back and out of the line of fire. Jacob had him by the collar and kept moving further and further back from the truck.

Finally, Micah managed to ask, "What the fuck? Where are we going?" Jacob released him, but Micah turned and followed the soldier. Jacob trotted at a brisk pace towards the school. "Jacob, what's happening?"

Jacob didn't stop walking but answered, "Shit's hitting the fan. I'm leaving. You should too."

The guards had the truck surrounded. They pulled out a soldier and threw him to the ground, swarming him and restraining him. Others cautiously investigated the truck. Micah watched over his shoulder, but kept pace with Jacob. "Won't they shoot you? They execute deserters the last time I checked."

Jacob shrugged. "They're about to have bigger problems."

***

Jacob reached a car and opened the door. Micah saw it was packed with several bags. More shouts came from the checkpoint.

The soldiers had entered the truck and approached the crate. One of them wedged a knife in between the boards, and the plywood front fell open as a dozen soldiers trained their weapons on it. The crate was empty.

Micah tapped Jacob's shoulder, drawing his attention. "Look, it's nothing."

The speakers around the camp sizzled to life once again, but this time it wasn't a man's voice talking. Instead, an eerie wail of an old siren filled the air as the last few rays of light illuminated the sky. The grating noise revved up and then fell off slightly, growing louder and louder each time. Micah recognized it as the school's built in tornado alarm. All the soldiers turned their attention to the school building. Down below, in the camp, panic started to spread.

The school building was dark, but figures moved within, just beyond the glass windowed double doors. Amid the siren's wail, Micah could hear a guttural roar from deep inside school. He knew the noise. He'd heard it before, time and again. He'd listened to it with a sick fascination, keeping a video from the fall of New York on repeat. The same noise had been prevalent at Chattanooga. The roar of an alpha male infected. A strange feeling took over his mind. He needed to see.