It was a pandemic. At least that's what all the governments, doctors, and media were saying. The virus was extremely contagious and was giving everyone flu-like symptoms, raising body temperatures, and making people lethargic. Government figures were reporting high death rates from it worldwide, although they said some local communities seemed unscathed. But it was just a matter of time, they said, before everyone was infected.
To combat the virus, the government mandated keeping people in their homes, forcing entire industries to close. They kept open only those industries they deemed absolutely essential, giving everyone masks to wear and providing strict guidelines on keeping a safe distance from others. People were given strict hours in which they could visit the grocery stores and other essential industries to keep the number of people in those areas as low as possible.
Pharmaceutical companies, with the government's direction and funding created a medicine to combat the virus and distributed it widely. The once-a-day pill was to help control the symptoms and keep the virus from spreading any further, but it didn't seem to be working. Every day more people seemed to be getting infected. The government blamed the new infections on those that were not following their orders and called for additional mandates and lockdowns. They turned the populace against those who disagreed with them. It was practically illegal now for people to even leave their homes or congregate in any way.
*****
Emmanuelle got comfortable in the office chair, rolling it forward to the desk. It rolled easily on the concrete floor of the dark basement. She turned on the computer and waited for it to boot up, then turned on the camera. With just a few clicks of the mouse she brought up the application and set it up for her needs. With one more click she started recording.
"I miss the Emmanuelle I was," she said, looking straight at the camera. "A totally normal college girl. I wonder what that Emmanuelle would think of me now. A conspiracy theorist... a raging psychotic talking about aliens in vaginas and penises... a sexual deviant who hooks up with random men and women to have sex... just to kill the alien parasite.
"When you're young, just about everything feels like the end of the world. Losing a boyfriend... no date to the prom... a horrible hair day... a bad final exam grade. Turns out what we thought was the end of the world, wasn't. This is. Several months after receiving an email describing this... alien invasion, this... human extermination... from a cousin of mine, both my mother and my father were fired from their jobs. No real reason was given, of course. There was no real reason to give. Then their lives were threatened for helping me send out links to the video and 'inciting panic'... in reality for telling the truth.
"Then... late one night, several men in black broke into our home and killed both my mother and father. I was lucky to flee for my life. The police called it a robbery gone bad... even though nothing was stolen.
"I haven't gone back. I'm scared they're trying to kill me, too. But I won't stop... I can't stop... telling you the truth about this alien parasite, how to find it, and how to destroy it. I won't lie. The human race absolutely depends on it."
She took a deep breath and stopped the recording. She wasn't sure what else she could say to convince people. She already created and sent out a dozen different videos. And, since this was the third platform she used to send out the videos, each of them getting shut down within a month, she was wondering how long it would be before the government found her and killed her. Why were they trying so hard to shut her up? Was the government in on this extermination? If so, why? Why wouldn't they fight back with all they had? Or had the aliens infiltrated the government? Do they somehow look... human?
She had been living off the grid for months, running and stealing what she needed, sleeping outside. Then, when things were looking their worst, she found Patrick, a kind man who wanted to help her. He'd been married to Jennifer for fifteen years now and made his living as an artist. His wife was a pharmacist at the local hospital, a job that was deemed essential.
Patrick and Jennifer were very kind to her, giving her a place to stay, food, and even gave her the use of their computer for her work. She hadn't quite told them everything, though. The less they knew, she thought, the less trouble they could get into. They didn't know about her conspiracy theory. They didn't know about the ghost. She just couldn't bring herself to tell them quite yet.
She logged into her new email account, her secret account she created just a month ago, and checked it. Two weeks ago she'd contacted a journalist who seemed to be rational, who seemed to want to talk to her and really get her story. And she was hoping to have a meeting with her sometime soon. She could show her all the evidence she had. She could tell her everything she believed. She needed someone on her side, someone who could dig and get the hard answers. Someone that the government would have an even harder time dismissing. But there was no response from her yet.
*****
Six weeks into her stay, Emmanuelle noticed that Patrick and Jennifer seemed to be acting strangely. Actually, she'd describe it as acting extra horny. They touched each other whenever they could, even if Emmanuelle was in the room. She just knew it had to be the alien parasite... and she had to do something about it. She couldn't just tell them. She tried that before and it didn't work. No... she'd have to show them. Since Patrick worked at home, he was her ideal first target.
She got up early the next morning, just after Jennifer left for another long shift at work, and went into the kitchen. She still had her fever and took one of the anti-viral pills the government was handing out. The fever didn't seem to be holding her back too much, thankfully. She pulled out some pans and started her work making breakfast for Patrick. Within thirty minutes, the wonderful smells filled the room and drew Patrick from his bedroom. He walked into the kitchen wearing long pajama bottoms without a shirt. His fever had probably made him too warm to wear a shirt.
Emmanuelle felt her desire for him rise when she saw him. His waist was trim, his torso muscular. She knew he worked out often. If he wasn't an artist himself, he'd probably be a male model.
She was wearing a pink, satin cami with spaghetti straps over her shoulders that made an X across her upper back. The loose material felt heavenly as it moved across her skin and bare breasts. In some ways, it felt like she wasn't wearing anything. But she could feel her hard nipples rubbing and poking against the thin, silky material, which felt heavenly. Below, she wore loose night shorts. All in all, it was very comfortable to wear at night, but was even better for innocently showing off her body.
She was washing dishes in the sink when he came in. "Good morning!" she said.
"Wow... aren't you busy this morning," he said, looking at all the food she'd made.
"Well, I wanted to make it a point today to wake up extra early and make breakfast for you. I was just cleaning up some dishes. I thought with Jennifer at work all day, I could be the little lady of the house and take care of some things."
"That's very nice of you," he said.
"I made breakfast, and I made coffee... cause I know you love it," she said, grabbing the steaming mug from the coffee machine. "And I made your favorite... French toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs."
"Oh my! You've been really busy," he chuckled.
"I want you to enjoy your breakfast and have a really great day today." Emmanuelle put the French toast, bacon, and eggs on two plates and carried them to the kitchen table as Patrick sat down. "You can start off the day right. I can take care of you two, just like you're taking care of me."
"It smells really tasty," he said grabbing the fork.
