The Libido Virus: Wasteland

Elliot coughed. Sand clogged his throat. He coughed again as he struggled to open his eyes. His skin burned, and his body ached. Several hundred yards away, a burning wreck billowed smoke into the blue sky. All around him, the desert stretched on into hazy nothingness. He started to take account of himself. He had managed to bail out of the plane before it dropped like a rock. The parachute worked, but he was lucky not to have broken his legs. His knees were bloodied and scratched. The rest of him was in tact, but would likely bruise from the roll. The chute pulled against him as it caught wind. He cut the straps before it had a chance to drag him further into the desert. Nearby, his bag looked no worse for the wear. Withdrawing a water bottle, he took a few sips, enough to soothe his throat while rationing for a potentially long stay in the wasteland. He got to his feet and started to gather his supplies. Night was only a few hours away.

I am a fucking idiot. He considered going to check the plane for anything else he could use, but it was a massive signal fire for raiders or worse. Instead, he chose to keep heading west and hope for a miracle. If he hadn't drifted too far off course, he would eventually hit a highway. It's alright. No big deal. You have a bottle of water and no food. Probably a week's walk to the next settlement. Desert is filled with raiders, dozens of venomous animals, and even the plants want me to die. There's no water, and anything I try to eat will probably kill me in the most painful way possible. This is totally working out. The sun baked down on him as he headed out across the desolate landscape.

Almost two years earlier, Elliot had lived in St. Louis. He taught flying lessons and painted in his spare time. His girlfriend visited on the weekends, and they had long talks into the night about how they would define their relationship. One weekend, he got drunk while watching football and went out to buy her a ring. He kept that for three weeks before returning it, having never told her about it. That day, he first heard about the virus. A small television behind the counter at the jewelry store displayed some blurred footage of a man and woman having sex. Though the video was already almost indiscernible, the network made sure to pixelate the areas someone believed to be the woman's breasts. Elliot thought it was funny at the time, some woman on MDMA so desperate for a fuck that she stripped down and wandered into the street until she found the first guy willing. Then New York fell. The world devolved into chaos. The government failed. The military failed. The remainder of humanity fled across the Mississippi river and build fortifications to hold back the infected. Those failed, too. At every turn, the infected hives and their queens stayed one step ahead, ready to destroy months of work with a single kiss. When the sanctuaries started to fall, the humans ran. Communities became dangerous as they attracted the infected. Elliot survived through it all.

He had spent the past few months traveling with a stranger he met in the Texas panhandle. They'd scavenged through West Texas and over into New Mexico without much difficulty. He knew of people who headed back east. The environment was kinder and food was more plentiful, but the infected prowled like starving wolves. Elliot and the stranger had made a decent existence for a while, but they got greedy. On a supply run into Albuquerque, they'd been swarmed by infected. His friend succumbed, no longer willing to fight. Elliot watched as his friend's clothes were stripped away, and his gaunt body disappeared under a writhing mass of beautiful women. In the confusion, Elliot slipped away. He found an airfield with several single engine planes. Though it took a few hours, he managed to get one of the planes mostly fueled. The process was cut short by the arrival of the infected. He got in the air as they watched, disappointment on their faces as a human male slipped from their fingers. Several hours later, he was somewhere in Nevada when the fuel died, and he jumped out into the desert.

The world that had been so comfortable was gone. He didn't know what happened to his girlfriend, but he could guess. So many people had dreamed the military or the government or some miraculous group would swoop in with a solution. First, people thought the infected could be cured. Then they thought they could be killed. Then they thought they could be contained. All of them were wrong. Other than his friend, Elliot had not seen another human in months. Before the sanctuaries collapsed, people talked of a secret mountain base where a vaccine was being developed. Sometimes it wasn't in the mountains, but at the top of a skyscraper in Chicago only accessible by helicopter. And other times still, it was in Area 51, buried hundreds of feet underground. Elliot wanted to believe in any of those bizarre fantasies, but time and again reality asserted itself. Perhaps, in some obscure location a group of dedicated scientists were perfecting the vaccine, but that did him no good. He had his wits and a few skills to survive, so he pressed on.

After an hour of walking, Elliot already felt on the verge of collapse. His skin prickled in the bright sunlight, and his body was starting to sweat less and less. He continued to take sips of water, and his stomach ached. He was already malnourished before being stranded in the desert. This is a shitty way to go. Could have turned into one of those massive cock things. Being a mindless freak is still better than being buzzard food. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd considered it. Giving in would have been so easy. He could have walked into the open arms and big tits of any of the millions of infected and been in total bliss. Instead, he'd chosen the struggle of humanity. The decaying civilization proved that humanity still had value. If the infected died out or retreated, humans could fix the world. Assuming a few survived.

Lost in his thoughts, Elliot did not notice the blurry shape move in the distance. The wind changed, and the sound of an engine drifted over the void landscape. He came to a stop and squinted to see what new problem was coming his way. This far out and unafraid of making noise. Some kind of raider. Best case, former military who doesn't kill me and leaves me to die in peace. Worst case, probably cannibals. With no where to run or take shelter, Elliot sat down. The vehicle grew larger as it approached.

As the truck rolled to a stop, it emitted the high pitched wheeze of a motor long in need of repair. It was an army vehicle, a two ton truck used for transporting supplies or men. The bed of the truck was once covered by a dome of thick canvas. The new owners had stripped that away in favor of crudely welded metal plating. The driver did not emerge, but a figure dropped from the rear of the truck. Dressed in thick robes, he hobbled forward on a cane. Not a raider or ex-military. Cannibal just went way up in likelihood. The man plodded slowly towards Elliot, but kept his eyes focused on his steps rather than the stranger in the desert. The man's robes were a motley of poorly sewn together old t-shirts and other strips of fabric. The staff he leaned on with each step was a gnarled branch with notches made all along the shaft. He came to a stop a few feet from Elliot and lowered himself to the ground with a loud sigh. Reaching into his robes, he produced a canteen and offered it to Elliot. As the younger man took it, he felt its cold contents slosh heavily back and forth. Could be poison. Weak old man wants to drug me before loading me up. I could try and fight them, but...driver might just leave if I take the old man. Nope, still fucked. May as well. Elliot unscrewed the cap and brought the canteen to his lips. The icy cold water poured over his cracked lips and slightly soothed the burning in his throat.

"You crashed the plane?" the old man asked. Elliot nodded. "Waste of a plane." The old man spoke to himself or, perhaps Elliot thought, to his walking stick. His face was dark brown from the sun with wide white circles around his eyes. As much as he could tell, Elliot judged the man to be over sixty. Not many his age had made it this long. The man crossed his legs and sat up straight. "I am Cadmus."

"Elliot."

"We're going to take you to our camp." It was a fact, as simple as the sun will rise.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"You will be judged." He held up the staff. "Each notch represents a lost soul. I have brought each of them to judgment, but Diana has not smiled upon me. My lost souls have been unworthy."

Elliot laughed. So, not cannibals. End of the world cult leader. "Awesome. Well, no sense waiting around in the desert. I'm on board. Let's get going."

Cadmus smiled eagerly and hopped to his feet, suddenly more nimble than he should be. Elliot followed him to the back of the truck. He was immediately glad he'd not tried to fight or flee from Cadmus. Two burly men helped Cadmus into the back of the truck and roughly lifted Elliot up beside them. They glared at him as the truck started to move. Elliot sat down on the bench, glad to be somewhat out of the shade. As the truck picked up speed, the hot wind felt slightly better than the stagnant heat. They drove on and on, stopping only once to refuel the truck from stored containers. Elliot made note of their methods in case an opportunity presented itself for escape, but mostly, he enjoyed the peacefulness of the ride.

***

Elliot guessed that the camp had once been a small pit stop on the side of a highway. A few of the buildings still stood, but most had been torn down or burned. At one point, many people had called the area refuge, but as he was marched into the camp, he saw that some kind of madness had taken hold. He'd heard of these kinds of places. When faced with the bizarre reality of a world ruled by sex maniacs, humanity didn't cope well. They took him towards the center of the town. They passed other men in the strange robes and more like Elliot's two guards. None of them looked unhealthy or underfed, which Elliot found encouraging. If he could get a few good meals out of them, then crashing a plane would have been worth it. They stopped in front of a small house, and Cadmus led him inside. Air conditioned air swirled around him, providing a cool relief he had not felt in months. Cadmus had made the living room of the small house his living area. The room was spartan, having only a small roll of blankets for a bed and a few cushions around the room. Clearly, the old man was living the life of a monk. "Before the judgment, you must eat and wash. I will prepare your meal. Go." He pointed to the rear of the small room.

Stepping into the bathroom, Elliot turned on the shower. Despite what he'd seen of the town, he didn't expect it to work let alone have hot water. Cadmus waited patiently in the doorway. Elliot stripped out of his dirty clothes, handing them over to the old man. Cadmus let his lip curl slightly as the very soiled garments piled up in his hands. Looking at himself in the mirror, Elliot thought he didn't look half bad, considering. The gaunt, scarred, and blistered body looked nothing like the man who had lived in St. Louis. He stepped into the shower and let the water wash away the surface level of grime and dust. His body ached, and the fatigue of the day started to catch up with him. Cadmus handed him a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo before leaving the bathroom. For a moment, Elliot considered running or fashioning a weapon of some kind. Again, his plans seemed unlikely and possibly unnecessary. Taking the soap, he focused on cleaning himself thoroughly, not anticipating the chance to take a hot shower again any time soon.

Cadmus waited for him when he stepped out of the bathroom in search of his clothes. "Wear this." He handed Elliot something akin to a kilt. Cadmus did not wait for him to figure out the garment, instead wrapping it around Elliot's torso and starting to fasten it in place.

"Hey, hang on, what about some underwear or something? Where's my stuff?"

"This is the ceremonial clothing for judgment. Is it not comfortable?" Elliot shrugged. He didn't like wearing a skirt, but it wasn't uncomfortable other than how vulnerable he felt with his junk hanging free underneath the thin garment. "Good, then come and eat."

Cadmus had prepared a small table with cushions on either side of it. He gestured for Elliot to sit. Elliot struggled to sit down without putting his ass or genitals on display. He smoothed the skirt over his crossed legs as Cadmus hobbled over with a plate in hand. Elliot's eyes widened in awe as Cadmus placed the meal in front of him. The food was all processed, but it was still a feast beyond which Elliot had ever expected to see again — mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, rice with gravy, and some kind of meat patty. He started devouring it as fast as he could only coming up for air when he realized that Cadmus was looking at him. "Not eating?" Elliot asked.

"No."

"So, what kind of deal is this judgment thing anyway?"

"You will be brought before the congregation and put to the test. If you succeed, you will sit at Diana's side."

Elliot's stomach knotted from the sudden influx of food. "Who is Diana?"

"You have seen her. Diana, Empress of the Earth. Diana, divine mother of the new way."

"Uh-huh. Say, you'd tell me if you were one of those crazy cults, right? Cause I'm not buying into the mass suicide deal. I appreciate the food, but, if you're planning on killing me or brainwashing me into killing myself, I'd rather just skip to the end."

Cadmus smiled. "You will not be killed. All human life is precious."

"Ok then, that's a start I guess." Elliot gobbled down another mouthful. "Did you hear about any of those? I mean, I don't want to rag on all crazy cults, but some of them were nuts. There was one that popped up in, oh, Minneapolis. Where the Vikings played. Vikings, football team, remember that stuff? Anyway, they were obsessed with the idea that this was one of the judgments of god. That the Whore of Babylon had been sent to corrupt the earth. They gathered up everyone in that stadium, thousands of people, and planned a massive suicide. Turns out a few of the infected managed to get in as well. Before they could drink the Kool-aide, they were all squirming and writhing against each other. Fucking and sucking took the place of praying and worshiping. That's what sparked the horde of infected that wiped out most of the Great Lakes settlements. Craziest damn thing." He looked at Cadmus expecting a response, but the old man only smiled and nodded. "So, was this your house? Before I mean."

The old man bowed his head. "Yes."

Elliot looked at the bare walls, seeing the outlines of picture frames. "What happened that made you...this?"

Cadmus lost his serene attitude. His face darkened, and his eyes narrowed. "We were abandoned. You're finished eating. Get up. Let's go."

***

Cadmus and his two thugs led Elliot towards the center of the town. Feeling slightly better about his chances, Elliot watched for any opportunity of escape, but started to see the familiar obstacles of patchwork defense. The crazy monks had built blockades on the alleys and lined the streets with fencing. In effect, they had created a tunnel leading straight into the center of town. Easier to group up in the center and defend against attackers and easier to cut off anyone trying to escape. Elliot soon noticed all of the fencing and barricades connected, welded together like everything else in the forsaken town. They approached what had once been a town square, in the center of which was a grassy park. Thick metal shields lined the perimeter of the square, another sign that the army had a presence in the area at some point. The monks had filled in the gaps to create a small coliseum. Elliot realized where he was being taken.

"Hey, hang on a minute. Let's talk about this." He tried to slip by the guard, but they easily grabbed him and shoved him forward. "C'mon guys. Let's talk about this. We don't need to have some kind of crazy death match to prove my loyalty or anything. You want me to be a crazy monk, hey, I'll be a crazy monk. Or one of these guys, let me hit the gym for a few weeks."

The guards pushed him into the center of the park and closed the gap in the fence. Cadmus walked up, "The world has ended. Our loved ones and families have been elevated. Diana has blessed them. Prove your love to her, and you will ascend. I have brought many souls to Diana. She will reward me greatly when my time comes." The old man smiled at Elliot and walked away.

"Oh, fuck, you stupid bastards." Elliot looked around. Along the edges of the fencing, other patchwork monks stood silently watching. "That's not how this works! They're not some goddess! They're sick!" He stopped as another section of the gate opened. A woman stepped into the arena. Fuck.

She looked identical to all the others. Elliot had seen thousands of them during the past year. She was taller than him with breasts almost as big as his head. As she moved across the grassy patch toward him, he could see her ample rump swaying behind her. He wondered who she had been before becoming a sex goddess. Another lost traveler like himself, or maybe she was the wife of one of the lunatics watching him. As she moved closer, he could see the slight glisten of arousal on her naked pussy. Her milky white skin begged to be touched. He knew her breasts were heavy with milk rich in the virus. One kiss, one touch, or one drop of her milk would be enough to wipe away everything Elliot was. So this is it, huh. All these months, and I wind up trapped in a cage in bumfuck nowhere by court jester cultists. Screw these guys.

Elliot walked forward. The woman paused, unaccustomed to humans walking so willingly to her without intent of harm. He smiled at her, "Hi there. I don't really know how this works, but I know you can talk. I get that we're going to have a little fun here in a second, but before that I was hoping you could answer some questions. Do you understand?"

The infected woman peered at him and looked around at all the silent watchers. "Yes, we understand."

"We? Oh, right, hive mind. Gotcha. Are you the only one here?"

"No, others are kept. In the dark. We enjoy ourselves."

"How many?"

"Dozens."

"How come you let the monks go free? Why not turn them?"

The beautiful creature looked sad. "We have no queen and no males. The voice is distant, but it tells us to wait. Those men poison us. They lock us in pits. We make the best of it."

Elliot crossed his fingers. "You should all be free. These men should join you. They've never seen a male, I bet. Can you make sure I become one? Then I can free all of you." The woman furrowed her brow. Elliot didn't remember ever seeing one of the creatures think before. It was strangely endearing. Finally, she nodded. "Ok then. I guess...let's get started."

She walked up to him, her naked body radiating heat in the rapidly cooling evening air. For a second, Elliot considered pushing her away and making a run for it. Perhaps he could have managed to scale the wall. But her lips touched his. Suddenly, all the months of resisting seemed so pointless. Why had he run? Why had he endured so much pain and hunger? This was bliss. Her soft, plump lips pushed against his as her tongue massaged his. His hands rose up to touch her. It had been so long since he'd felt the touch of a woman's body. She wasn't the wiry, dirty thing all the humans had become. She was soft, delicate, and inviting. Her flesh yielded to his touch. A moan escaped her lips as his hands moved down to her round ass. Lust filled his mind, and he forgot about his plan. He forgot about everything other than the woman in front of him.