Chapter 6: Bad Moon Rising

While waiting for their physicals, the newcomers were busy. Some were touring the dorm, choosing suitemates, and selecting suites. Two were making lists of clothing and other items needing to be procured, the others were visiting with the original residents. There were more than a few speculative looks in my direction.

I was sitting quietly with Chastity and Rachel when my phone sang. “Virgil, may I speak with Rachel or Chastity?” Pete asked. I handed my phone to Rachel thinking, ‘Why haven’t I got them their own phones?’ and added that item to my mental to-do list.

The pair huddled over my phone for a brief while, then stood. Chastity took my hand and told me, “We are needed,” and led me down the hall, Rachel following.

We quickly arrived at the nurses’ clinic and were met by Jenny and Pete. “They need a fix, Virgil,” Pete told me. “They asked your ladies nicely; that’s why they brought you here. They’ve been interviewed and were recently tested for STDs, so the decision is up to you.”

I looked at my two loves, and they nodded ‘yes’.

The three of us squeezed past Jenny and Pete and entered the indicated room. There we saw the seated Eva and Karen clad in light blue paper gowns and shivering in spite of the room’s jacked up temperature. While I stood in the door, Chastity and Rachel each chose one woman, moved to her side, and kissed a cheek.

Rachel stepped back, leaned against the wall, and explained, “You are probably wondering why Chastity and I insist on being with our husband when he sexes another woman. At first, it was because we are newlyweds and were concerned that he might become enamored with someone new. Now, while that is still a little concern, but not so much, and I’ll tell you why.”

“See, every one of the women you met today became family. Watch how they look at Virgil and how they make opportunities to touch him. Some are in love with him but all of them care for him. Yield to him, and you will begin to care for him, too.” Rachel warned them, “You need to decide if ridding yourself of discomfort is worth binding yourself to him and us. Chastity and I will never give him up.”

Eva and Karen looked at each other, and Eva asked, “Do the major and captain agree with this theory?”

Chastity smiled, “Unless they are listening at the door, I doubt they are aware of it. After all, they aren’t in here with us for very long periods, like you will be.” She looked at me and said, “I doubt Virgil knows either; he’s a man. He’s an honorable man and if he were aware, would have warned you when he made his little speech.”

I kept my mouth shut while Rachel took over. “Look. We don’t even have a high school diploma, but we did have some education. My father kept us locked up, and when he wasn’t raping me, we read, and watched anything educational we could. We knew we would need knowledge if we ever escaped the evil asshole. Four of us girls lived together in the basement, next to the laundry room. We know confinement.”

Chastity watched the women who were stunned by the revelations and added, “There is something about the act itself. We’ve been experimenting a lot. A quickie can give short-term relief as long as there were mutual orgasms. The more orgasms the woman has, the better and longer lasting the relief seems to be. We women help each other get those multiple orgasms while Virgil’s penis is doing its work in the vagina.”

“So you see,” Chastity continued, “Our husband is not a warm dildo or turkey baster. If you still wish it, he will make love to you, and so will we. There is only one lesbian couple in our group, and three others say they were originally bi. Now, when we are with Virgil, we are mostly enthusiastically bi. There’s more, but you have the essentials. Are you in or out?”

Eva, stood, removed her gown, and moved to give Chastity a soul-stirring kiss then duplicated it with Rachel. With that as my cue, I picked her up and placed her on the bed.

I felt rushed, so I did my two-minute soap and rinse and returned to the lobby. Showered and dressed, my ladies and the glowing Eva and Karen soon sauntered back into the dorm’s lounge. “All right, ladies, who’s next for their physical?” Eva called. “We can take two at a time.”

Two of the newcomers looked at each other and stood. One of the other women, obviously very horny, grouched, “Well look at the brightness twins. Did you get your ashes hauled?”

I blushed when Karen told her “We certainly did, and unless you are a prudish Missus Grundy, you are in for a real treat. But, you’ll need to wait, because the Colonel isn’t the Energizer Bunny and needs time to recover. However, you’ll find he insists on quality service...”

With that, they escorted the next two volunteers back to their new clinic for their physicals.

After the lecture by my loves, I began to take note of the rest of the women in orbit around me. Of course, they were right. I was touched, catered to, and seldom alone. There were friendly innuendos and jokes like I’m told develop between happily married couples, but we weren’t married. We were becoming family, though, and families have a bicker here and a dig there, but I was catered to.

Don’t take this wrong. Well under the circumstances, I suppose it’s hard not to, but I really enjoyed the scenery. The other women started to dress in sexy and skimpy clothes to attract my attention. With two prime beauties of my own, I wouldn’t have suffered without the extras, but because they were there and put on a show, my eyes were pleased.

I continued to wear my .45, so many jokes were on the theme of my having two guns, upper and lower. “Which gun can he reload quicker?” “I dunno, seems about the same to me.”

Now that was a thought to consider. My stamina had increased some, and in fact, was still increasing. I was rising to the occasion or occasions, so to speak, and would need to continue to rise if I were to keep twenty-two women reasonably happy and all of us sane. Was it practice or something else? I found that I could now sex two women with a very short cycle time, but good sex takes more than sexual stamina, and I would not relent and consent to quickies. Our lives did not completely center on sex, though I spent a lot of very pleasant time with the ladies. Fortuitously, the intervals between their needed maintenance doses seemed to increase. This was difficult to know for sure, because they were almost all healthy, normally sexually active, women and wanted more than the bare minimum. The need for affection and touching continued unabated, as did the desire for more frequent intercourse. The teens were almost insatiable.

I had told them I wasn’t some kind of warm dildo, and the sex was all good, but it was like a diet of continual desserts. It was a damned good thing I had Chastity and Rachel to love and who loved me before this all began. The two of them were my steak and potatoes.

Yankee Pasha, indeed.

If they hadn’t before, most of the newcomers took advantage of the remainder of the afternoon to select rooms, pair up with suitemates, and call loved ones. No one had an issue with my request to keep our location secret, even from parents, spouses, and children. Dead bodies and bullet holes had reinforced the need for confidentiality, but we forgot about ‘find my phone’ and similar aps.

We waited until the new arrivals finished their physicals so that each could tell their tale and all could hear it. Pete and Jenny escorted the last two back, and they joined the remaining adults gathered in the lounge. The mothers had positioned themselves where they could watch the mobile children who were dividing their attention between a tea party and the TV. Two mothers sat with their babies asleep in carriers.

I was once again very impressed by Ronnie and her aircrew. After ensuring the kids had juice and snacks, they were handing out adult beverages, still remembering preferences of those they’d served. I blessed Pete and lifted my glass to her for having hit the base’s Class Six ‘package’ store for a nice variety and plenty of alcohol and mixers.

This time, Chastity got her evening’s one-shot ration of Booker’s, though I again advised her to add water. Booker’s is approximately fifty percent stronger than most Bourbons, and for a rookie drinker, the usual Bourbons are too strong to drink straight. She reached over me and offered a sip to Rachel, who sniffed the drink and declined while grimacing.

My two ladies bracketed me and were preparing to snuggle in. Of necessity, I whispered an apology and stood to address the group, “It appears that we all were hit with the same virus – just at different times. My group’s sequestering here was mostly direct. We lost all our men, except me, but painful as that was, it appears to be nothing compared to your ordeal. We have about an hour before dinner is served in the cafeteria, and we’d very much like to hear your stories.”

Jane Hatfield, a svelte older woman with natural silver-gray hair stood and introduced herself. Then she began their story:

“You probably know that as we taxied to the terminal, the captain informed us that there was a plane just down the causeway deplaning several very sick people. We would be allowed to deplane but would be required to remain near our gate until all the passengers on that other flight were gone and the area was decontaminated.

“Our plane was the only one past the affected plane at the far end of the concourse, so I’m guessing inconveniencing a small number of passengers wasn’t a big concern with everything going on. We could look a few gates down the concourse and see a clear plastic barrier going up. At least there were restrooms on our side. In other ways we were lucky, too. In our little area, we could eat, drink, and even buy a book or candy bar – but not diapers. All of that became very important over the next few hours.

“The airport was using the mushroom theory of management, and it looked like there was going to be longer than a little wait. Three of us got something to eat at the barbeque place, and two guys were slamming down beers like the county was going dry tomorrow. After about an hour – your flight was long gone – one of the guys headed for the restroom.”

Ruth Holcomb, one of the young mothers, stood and took up the story in a soft voice we could barely hear:

“Peggy and I were heading back from changing my Samantha and her Tricia, and we recognized one of the men passengers headed the way we had come from. I looked at Peggy and told her, “He doesn’t look well. Maybe we should tell his friend he might want to check on him.”

“Once we got back and our young’uns settled, Peggy watched them while I walked over to where the other man was buying another beer. I told him he might want to check on his buddy, as he didn’t look at all well. He thanked me and told me they both were drinking a little too much. He’d give Ole Pete a few minutes, then see if he was worshiping at the porcelain altar.

“When he finally went to check on his friend, he wasn’t gone but a couple of minutes before he was running back. He was yelling about ‘dead and bloody on the floor’ and ‘call 911’ and a bunch of other stuff I couldn’t understand. Then he went to one of the trashcans and threw up all the beer he’d been drinking.”

Jane Hatfield, stood and returned to the tale:

“You know, whatever the sickness was on that first plane down the concourse, it was very lucky for San Diego and very unlucky for us. That barrier they put up kept whatever we have from spreading into the city, but if we passengers weren’t infected on the flight, we sure as heck were exposed while waiting together in the terminal.

“So now, there were several 911 calls and one of the gate attendants reported in with his phone. It seemed like forever before anyone came, and maybe it was forever. We could see through the plastic, and the EMTs taped a second sheet around themselves and their gurney before they came in. I think they had learned some things from handling the COVID-19 cases and weren’t taking chances. When they finally slit the first sheet of plastic and came through, they were wearing a white plastic suit that covered them completely and a mask behind a face shield.

“After a half hour or so, one of the EMTs came and gathered us passengers together, plus the people running the newsstand and the other concessions, as well as the gate attendants. He announced that the airport authorities were quarantining us ‘in place’ because this seemed to be something new. This abundance of caution wasn’t taken well, however, events proved the decision wise. Before the EMT could leave us, the dead man’s drinking buddy coughed up blood and died right in front of us. After that, I was in shock, and the rest of the evening is a blur.”

Peggy Griffin, the other infant’s mother told us:

“Out the window, we could see an ambulance pull up. One of the gate agents punched a code for access, and suddenly it got busy. The two bodies, sealed in body bags, were wheeled out and down to the tarmac and sprayed with something before they were put in the ambulance. We thought it was strange that the ambulance didn’t leave. Other people in the same type white suits took mucus samples and drew vials of blood from us. There was always one suited person staying with us, and when one of them left, they were sprayed, too.

“They eventually brought in cots and pallets for us, and our luggage arrived, that didn’t do me a lot of good because no one thought of diapers. But I was lucky that Ruth had enough extras to get us both though the night anyways.”

“A guy named Paul made us all meals from the barbeque place, whatever we wanted. Said ‘screw the boss, it’s the right thing to do’. He passed out beer or soft drinks to whoever wanted. A real nice guy, but in the end, he died too.

“What a horrible night that was! By morning, all the male passengers were dead. They all died the same way, we’d hear a gasp, two or three or four choking coughs, and blood would spray. The door to the outside would open, two suits would enter, and another body was gone. I’m so very glad my husband wasn’t traveling with us, because I don’t think I could have stood to see him die like that.

“I cried for them. The guys were real heroes. After the third or fourth death, they saw the pattern, and one by one, they moved their cots across the circle to spare us women and children as much as they could. Logan lost his father that night, and it took several days before he would talk with anyone.

“In the morning, only the men from in the concourse and the plane’s cleaning crew were still alive, and they were really scared, as they should have been. Other than us women passengers, there was Paul, five cleaners, two airline gate agents, and a janitor named Isaac. There was also a woman gate agent and another lady who worked at the newsstand. And, of course, the white suits, but they didn’t count...”

Maeve Benton the freckled redhead now told us, weeping throughout:

“Jane said the night was a blur, but the next day was worse. The white suits thought to bring us breakfast sandwiches and stuff from Mickey D’s, and there was juice. Paul kept the coffee coming, but he was also spending a lot time on the phone with his girlfriend. I overheard the two gate agents saying goodbye to their wives.

“My Maysie Bird, she’s with the kids at the television, and Linda’s Lynne were upset and pretty much running wild. The sugar intake from their pancakes didn’t help. Logan just sat staring out the window.

“Then our cell phones started going off, big time. Someone must have notified the press, because we could see people and cameras on the other side of the plastic, and we were getting calls requesting interviews. On the waiting area’s monitors, we watched talking heads speculate and speculate some more about what was happening at Lindberg Field.

“That wasn’t enough, so some lawyer started calling wanting to represent us in a class action suit. Against who? He was very vague. I hung up on him because he sounded like a real opportunistic sleaze. Besides, who did I want to sue – the goddam virus? I called my husband and ignored the incoming call beeps.

“By lunchtime, the rest of the men were dead and their bodies removed. In addition to ambulances, there was now a refrigerator truck on the apron outside our gate. None of us women were dead or even sick, but we were terrified and could hardly eat the boxed meals they brought us. Then a different type of suit came and called us together.

“The new arrival identified himself as Lieutenant Colonel Ashmore, and for the first time, we heard something of what was going on. He told us that none of us had the COVID-19 virus, but that their tests showed indications of a virus they’d never seen before. It was close enough to COVID-19 that they could reasonably assume that it was a mutation from nineteen. More tests were needed to be sure, and we were to be moved to the nearby Naval Air Station where a better quarantine facility was being prepared.”

Patrice Middleton, a young, chocolate-brown woman stood and took over their story:

“They moved us before dinner, but the preparations took a while. We were asked to wear these sealed suits like the medical people; they had sizes for the kids and carriers for the babies. After they checked our seals, we went out the boarding door and down steps to the tarmac where we were sprayed with a disinfectant. We took a short bus ride over to the Naval Air Station where a large building had been set up with dividers, so we could have some privacy. At the entrance, I noticed that the same sort of spray truck was set up, just like the one that sprayed us down as we left the concourse.

“When we entered, there was a separate area where we could wipe any of the remaining liquid from our suits and move to another place to take them off. The smell was irritating, and I was sure glad to move on through some heavy doors.

“Our quarters were near a noisy runway and obviously thrown together. One of the suits told me we were in a hanger, but it was all a welcome change from the terminal concourse. There were televisions, games for the children, and fast wifi. Some thoughtful soul had even provided several boxes of diapers, and I heard Peggy get happy with that.

“For dinner, they had a nice buffet set up by more people in the different, camouflage suits. I was hungry and managed to eat two helping of chicken and dumplings plus a slice of really good apple pie. We watched the news and the talking heads speculated some more, but we were kinda pushed aside by New York and the rising national death toll. I was exhausted, and early on, I was asleep.

“Then, right after breakfast, some guy named Ridgemount was on the news claiming that there was a new virus killing only men – had that part right – and that the Army was keeping the infected women prisoners – had that part wrong; it was the Navy. Some of the others, across the room, were watching a religious program and called the rest of us over. A man was ranting something about the Sin of Eve being revisited and the need to root it out.

“Jane looked at us and predicted trouble over that one. She was right. The next thing we knew, the news was reporting that there were mobs killing women. We were terrified. With everything else, it was almost too much to bear, and some of us were so upset that we simply couldn’t eat any lunch.

“One of the suited guys came in and gathered us together. He told us that San Diego was getting too dangerous and that we would be airlifted to some secret and safer place where the new virus was being studied. He said there should be a specially equipped Air Force plane arriving the next day. He should have told us to keep quiet about it, but he didn’t.”