From Joke To Reality

I was filling up the tank of my 1988 Land Cruiser when I saw a run-down pickup truck pull up to the adjacent pump, towing a small camping trailer. I chuckled to myself as I could see they were hard-core preppers probably running to the hills to avoid whatever COVID-19 doomsday scenario they had concocted in their imagination. A man cautiously emerged from the driver's seat, yelling "stay in the car!" to a woman in the passenger seat and four kids packed tightly into the second row, as he tightened the straps on the elaborate mask he was wearing, which looked more appropriate to space travel than avoiding what was in reality a severe flu virus.

He walked around the car and clumsily began working the keypad and pump through thick leather gloves, cursing to himself as he looked left and right nervously. As he began pumping I coughed several times to toy with him; he eyed me suspiciously and slowly moved away toward the front of the vehicle, and I could see that he had a handgun tucked into the waist of his jeans, no doubt to protect himself from the virus-infected zombies he had imagined. As he warily watched me from the front of the vehicle against the constant background grumbling of tractor-trailers pulling in and out of the station, I saw the rear door of the trailer open and a teenaged girl emerge, sprinting around the side of the gas station convenience store with an awkward gait that suggested she badly needed to relieve herself. I smiled to myself as I finished pumping, and walked into the convenience store to pick up a soft drink and lotto ticket.

As I walked back out I saw the truck accelerating quickly onto the highway. I shook my head at the comical sight and settled into the driver's seat of my SUV, checking the text messages and emails on my phone before proceeding with my journey for a well-deserved long weekend at my mountain cabin. As I put the phone down and turned on the ignition, I saw movement in my rear view mirror and was shocked to see the teenage girl emerging from the back of the service station, briefly looking around frantically for her family before running back into the adjacent woods.

"Well, shit," I said to myself trying to make sense of the situation. It appeared they didn't realize she had left the trailer to go to the bathroom and were now cruising along at top speed toward their mountain bunker oblivious to the fact they had left her. I thought for a minute, and then turned the engine off and stepped out of the car, annoyed at the unexpected inconvenience. "Idiots," I muttered to myself.

I walked around the side of the gas station and looked around for a moment before I spotted movement in the bushes. "Come on out," I shouted, to no reply. I yelled again with a growing tone of annoyance in my voice, "I know you're in there. Come out so I can help you."

Eventually she stood up, some distance away, eying me with suspicion. She was wearing a fabric mask and hospital gloves, but otherwise looked like something out of Amish country, with a long plain dress and her hair braided tightly behind her. "Go away!" she yelled. "My family's coming back, and I don't want to get infected. You aren't even wearing a mask!" she said in disbelief.

"I'm immune," I responded sarcastically, and then tried to give her a quick reality-check. "Your family has no idea you left the trailer and they are long-gone, speeding into the mountains as we speak. I'm guessing they aren't stopping to sight-see on the way, and since your dad filled up the tank completely the destination is probably still hundreds of miles away, so it will be nightfall before they get where they're going and have any idea that you're not with them."

She stood with a blank look on her face, processing what I had just said. I sighed and thought to myself that the apple certainly hadn't seemed to fall far from the tree when it came to intelligence. "So do you want my help or not? Do you want to try to call them on my mobile phone?

"We don't have a cell phone," she replied. "My father says the government uses them to spy on people."

I groaned in frustration, as our options further narrowed. "Do you know where they were going? I could try to catch them on the highway, or drive you there?"

"No. My father said he knew someone who had a mountain compound where we would be safe. He said it was totally off the grid and there would be other families there."

I tensed up as I realized it might be more challenging than I had hoped to get her back with her family, but I didn't want to worry her further as she was clearly already petrified by the situation. "Okay, well in that case I think that leaves only one option: I'm going to my cabin and you're welcome to come along until we're able to reach your family," I offered.

She thought for a moment, and then replied with a simple "okay" as she warily stepped out of the bushes, following me back to my FJ and jumping into the passenger seat.

We pulled onto the highway, and after a few minutes of awkward silence I said "My name's Mark; what's yours?"

"Sarah," came the muffled reply from under her mask.

"Nice to meet you Sarah. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," came another muffled reply.

I paused, briefly wondering if we would ever make it past awkward silence and one-word answers. "I'm 35, and I live in Savannah. Where are you from, Sarah?"

And like clockwork, another nervous, one-word response: "Alabama."

I moaned in frustration. "Sarah, we have another hour and a half to go on this car ride, and then I'm guessing we are stuck together for the night before your family is able to come back for you. It's going to be a long time if we can't have conversation. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

She turned to me with a curious look in her light blue eyes and asked "How are you immune?"

I nearly spit out my drink, realizing she had believed my earlier joke. I was incredulous at her innocence and gullibility, but realized that changing the story at this point might be a bad move, so I followed up the earlier lie with even more BS. "I have antibodies from exposure to an earlier coronavirus years ago. Since these all come from a government lab, they engineered in the ability for the military to develop blanket immunity to all strains."

"So you are military?" she responded, clearly falling for this false narrative.

I thought quickly and then replied "I was when I was younger but quit when I realized what the government was up to. I don't like to talk about it." I figured she would accept this line of thinking but wanted to cut off the conversation before it spiraled further.

She nodded with approval as she removed her mask, clearly impressed that I knew the "truth" about the government and had rejected its nefarious hidden agendas, and comfortable with the story behind my immunity.

I offered her a water from my cooler in the back, and she eagerly accepted. As she gulped down the water and gazed out the window at the surrounding mountain slopes, I gave her a closer look. She was tall and slender, although it was difficult to assess her figure in the conservative dress she was wearing. Her dirty blonde hair appeared to be fairly long judging by the length of her braids, and with a few loose strands hanging over her face I could see it had gentle waves. She wore no makeup but her face was still striking, highlighted by her large, deep blue eyes; full, pouty lips; and tanned, flawless skin.

After finishing her water she suddenly looked back at me and asked "If you're immune why are you going to the mountains?"

"Jesus," I thought to myself, realizing we were back on my story again. I briefly considered how to dispense with this last query, and replied "You know this is about far more than the virus, right? We're talking about supply chains and markets shutting down, law and order disintegrating and anarchy in the streets; it will take months or years to get back to anything remotely similar to civilization as we know it. That's not something we want to be there for."

I wondered whether my response was too crazy and far-fetched, but sure enough Sarah sat forward attentively in her seat nodding vigorously as I spoke. "That's exactly right," she responded, "People need to find a safe place and hide out; live off the grid and go back to living the way we used to, the way God intended us to."

I was amazed by the fact that the crazier I spoke the more Sarah seemed to be comfortable with me, but it provided an intoxicating thrill and I was having fun yanking her chain, and seeing how far I could push it. "I'm glad you understand what's really going on," I said approvingly, and she grinned proudly at this affirmation that she was smart and really "got it."

Apparently I was now inside the "circle of trust," I thought to myself as I chuckled and pushed down on the accelerator. For the next hour Sarah shared every detail of her life, elaborating on the closed religious community she hailed from, her strict and emotionally-closed off parents, the lack of options or opportunity available to her, and finally the whopper of a conspiracy theory they ultimately fell for as the COVID crisis emerged. This, of course, was my impression, not hers. To hear Sarah tell it was to learn about an idyllic world safely secluded from the evils and dangers of modern society, of rules and strictures that were either God-given or imposed by parents fulfilling their role of strict disciplinarians. Sarah seemed most enthusiastic when she shared with pride that she was now "of age" and anxiously awaiting her parents' selection of a husband for her; she spoke with excitement about the new life as wife and mother she would soon be assuming, and whispered scandalously that she had already spoken with older girlfriends about "everything" that marriage entails so she would be ready to for her duties. By the time we pulled off the highway and began to make our way through the winding country roads, I had learned pretty much everything there was to know about Sarah's life, past and future, and was anxious for a break.

The sun was setting as I pulled off the country road and onto the barely noticeable, rugged dirt path leading onto my property. It was a beautiful place that I treasured as a way to "get away from it all" when I needed to decompress- about 500 acres of natural beauty hidden away in a long and narrow mountain hollow, mostly wooded and far removed from the buzz of civilization. I owned the entire hollow and the adjacent mountain ridges bordering both sides, so between that and the fact that the bordering properties were similarly large it exaggerated the feeling of solitude and distance from society. At the west end of the hollow there was a beautiful waterfall, which emptied into a small river that meandered through the property, teeming with trout and with several good swimming holes. On the east end closer to the entrance to the property there was a small plot of land cleared in the middle of the forest, a patch of rich river soil with good sunlight that I allowed a local neighbor to farm on, and year after year he planted a variety of crops on the small plot for his own use. I had also planted apple, plum, chestnut and maple trees scattered across the property years before, which were now dependably producing fruit, nuts and syrup each year.

At the center of the property was a historic one-room cabin I had restored and updated into a cozy living quarters, adjacent to the river beside a small clearing. Further up the river was a smaller second cabin that I had renovated into an office. The structures were self-sufficient, with solar power, gas-powered backup generators, and ample supplies of fresh water, and the office cabin was wired with cellular high-speed internet from an antenna at the top of the adjacent mountain. Additionally, while exploring the property soon after moving in I found a prohibition-era distillery hidden alongside a creek in the mountain's folds, which I had fixed up and put to good use in recent years, with several spirits now aging inside.

We pulled up outside the main cabin and Sarah examined the surroundings eagerly as we stepped out of the car. There was an evening chill in the air and it was quiet aside from the sound of the river nearby and a breeze blowing through the trees overhead. As she walked toward the house I had suddenly had an idea and shouted "stop!"

Sarah froze in her tracks and I faced her with a concerned look on my face. "I'm immune but you are not, and we want to be sure not to bring in any contamination from outside."

She stopped to consider my statement, and then shot me a curious look. "Okay, what do we need to do?"

I chose my words carefully as I proceeded. "First, I'm going to leave everything in the car for a few days; we aren't going to bring anything inside now."

She nodded in agreement as I continued, "Second, the virus could also be on our clothes, so we need to leave them with our other things in the car, and scrub ourselves off in the outdoor shower thoroughly," nodding toward a shower on the exterior of the cabin.

Sarah was clearly nervous about this, so I continued. "I'll shower first and then get some clothes from the cabin; then I'll leave you to wash up and you can join me inside for dinner." I began to strip and she nearly jumped out of her shoes, quickly turning around to give me privacy as I showered.

I stepped inside and threw on some clothes, then I rummaged through clothing in the dresser that an ex-girlfriend had left behind. My ex was considerably less conservative in her style, so it was difficult to find something Sarah would feel comfortable in, but eventually I chose a pair of soft, full length pajamas.

I returned outside with the pajamas and a towel and laid them on a bench beside the shower; Sarah was already under the water and I caught a glimpse of her upper body from behind as she soaked herself in the water. Her slender figure glowed in the warm late afternoon light as her soapy hands worked their way over her skin, and she had released her braid and her dirty blonde hair now hung halfway down her back. I went inside and began to warm up a stew on the gas range, and then loaded some firewood into the woodstove in the corner and lit a fire to warm up the cabin.

Minutes later Sarah entered, and I was momentarily floored when I saw her. I suddenly remembered that my ex was quite a bit shorter than Sarah, so the pajamas looked undersized on her lean figure. Additionally, I realized that I had forgotten to provide underwear, so in the dim light of the lamp I could clearly see the natural outline of Sarah's breasts- which I assessed to be in the range of a C-cup size- and her nipples pointing out, still erect from the evening chill outside. Her hips were perfectly contoured and her ass looked firm and pert in the undersized pajama pants, and her legs were lean and long. Finally, I noted the slightest hint of the outlines of her pussy through the taut fabric between her legs.

Sarah saw me staring and chastised me immediately, "Stop looking at me like that. I am a Christian lady and you should be ashamed to stare at me with such lust."

I was taken aback at her sudden assertiveness, before deciding to double-down and regain control of the conversation, responding with a somber expression. "I'm sorry. Those pajamas belonged to my fiancé, and she passed away a month ago from the virus. You looked so beautiful in them, and reminded me of her when you walked in."

My voice trailed off and I turned away with a pained look in my eyes, and Sarah rushed toward me and put her hands on my shoulders. "I'm so sorry; I didn't know," she said, "I should have never been so presumptuous and rude."

"It's okay," I said, reaching my hand up to place it on top of hers on my shoulder. "Thank you for understanding."

We sat down for dinner as Sarah looked around the cabin. It was small and cozy, with a kitchen in one corner with a two-person dining table, the woodstove and an armchair in the adjacent corner; on the other side was a bed and soaking tub, as well as a small water closet with a toilet that had been added when I renovated the cabin. I could tell what she was thinking, so I pointed to the bed and said "you can sleep there. I have a second cabin further up the path where I can sleep tonight."

She smiled warmly and said "Thank you; that is very kind of you."

"Tell me about your fiancé," Sarah said.

I proceeded to tell her a long and romantic story, completely disconnected from reality, of my imaginary fiancé and the love we shared. I was careful to weave in aspects of our relationship that fit Sarah's beliefs about love and relationships. I described my fiancé as devoted and loving, impossibly feminine and beautiful, and eager to take on her responsibilities of caring for our home and children someday. I was a firm but loving protector and provider, occupying the traditional "man's role" but with the appropriate degree of tenderness toward her. Sarah listened intently as she finished her meal, smiling in approval and no doubt absorbing the similarities to the ideals she had expressed about what love would mean for her.

Finally, I moved onto more salacious details and shared how wonderful it felt to hold my fiancé's body against mine, and how her deep and passionate kisses made my heart race, noting Sarah leaning forward with deep interest. I described the sight of her nakedness when we skinny-dipped in the river outside, detailing her every feminine feature and the arousal it stirred in me, and Sarah blushed. Finally, I talked about how much we had looked forward to getting married and finally making the bond between us complete, in a scandalous whisper sharing that I was especially looking forward to our wedding night. At this point my smile disappeared and I sunk low into my chair, looking despondent.

Sarah grasped my hands and tried to comfort me, and I softly said to myself: "I could have saved her. I could have saved her."

Sarah was puzzled and asked "What do you mean?"

I looked at her tenderly and shared the rest of my sad story. My fiance and I had gone into town for supplies as the virus was beginning its spread; I had tried to be cautious and since I knew I was immune she stayed in the car while I did the shopping. But on our way back we stopped to fill the gas tank and while I was inside paying she left the car to use the station's rest room. I was worried when I came outside and saw she had left the safety of the car, but we naively doubted that she would have been infected from such a brief exposure. "How stupid! That gas station must have held germs from every traveler in the entire southeast- thousands of people a day!"

I worried that the parallels would be too obvious, but Sarah at this point had an ashen face and expression of concern as she listened to my tale. She tried to collect herself and refocus on my story, "But she was the one who left the car. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have saved her!"

I shook my head and softly replied, "Yes I could have saved her. I could have given her my antibodies."

At this point Sarah nearly fell out of her chair, exclaiming "What? How?!?"

I took a deep breath, and then continued. "The virus has an incubation period of about two weeks before a person begins to show symptoms and fall ill. During this time it is replicating itself internally, with no immediate response from the immune system. If you were to introduce antibodies to the infected person's blood soon after infection, the body would recognize the antibodies and begin to reproduce them independently, allowing it to fight the virus."

Sarah looked utterly confused. "But how would you have given her your antibodies? A blood transfusion?"

I shook my head and replied "Of course not- I don't have the equipment here to do that and the nearest hospitals are both far away and already overwhelmed with COVID patients already. But there is another way."