Alien Infection

by Darrell Bain

  I hesitated, glancing at the lone bed in the room.

  "Mike, stop worrying about offending me for goodness sake! You act like I'll break if you touch me."

  "I never wanted to have anyone think of me as a dirty old man. You're thirty years younger than me."

  She sighed as if I were dense as a doorknob and headed for the bathroom. She might even be right, considering what followed.

  I undressed down to my shorts and crawled under the covers. A few minutes later the bathroom light went out, leaving our room in shadows, lit only by the outside lights filtering through the thin drapes. Nevertheless, it was bright enough to see how thinly clad she was, wearing a nearly transparent nightgown. I realized I was staring and turned my head. Dirty old man, all right. But I didn't feel old, not like I had before becoming infected.

  "G'night,” Mona said, sliding under the covers. She sighed at the comfort of the bed and was asleep almost before I could answer.

  I wished that I could doze off again. It had been awhile since I shared a bed with a woman, not even counting our odd situation. Even with my eyes closed I could sense her presence and it was impossible not to have some erotic thoughts, even if I didn't intend to try carrying them out. I was past the stage where I thought I was still attractive to women that young. As a poor method of sublimating sexual desire, I turned back to thoughts of the-let's call it the bug-we had acquired. That didn't get me anywhere either because it was completely outside my experience, and before I knew it, sex was on my mind again. I cursed silently and rolled over to face completely away from her. Eventually I managed to drop off, but it wasn't easy.

  It was the old married feeling that caused me to wake up, the sensation of a warm body cuddled against me. I could feel the yielding firmness of Mona's breasts pressing against my back. Her hand was stroking my chest when I first became aware of her, but after she knew I was awake her hand moved confidently lower, already certain of my response. I surely didn't disappoint her. I rolled over and gathered her into my arms, wanting her with an urgency that I hadn't felt in years. Our lips met and our tongues wound against each other in a dance that was as old as time and as fresh as a bright spring morning.

  My erection was unbelievably hard and acutely demanding, like nothing I had experienced for a long time. Even Viagra, which I had tried on a couple of occasions, didn't compare with this. Apparently Mona was feeling much the same thing. By the time we had the covers thrown back and were completely naked, our bodies were responding like teenagers, sending and receiving signals that bypassed the brain completely.

  Mona's breathing became heavy and rapid. She pulled at me, urging me to hurry and I did, entering her just seconds later in one easy thrust that brought a long ecstatic sigh of pleasure from her-and from me. I began to move, slowly at first, wanting it to last and that's when it became something different than ordinary sex, no matter how good. I can only describe it inadequately as a merging of our desires. It wasn't like mind reading but nevertheless, I could sense her emotions and could feel her bodily sensations-and I knew she was experiencing exactly the same thing with me. I could tell exactly when she was approaching her orgasm, just as she knew when I was coming close, and—well, you know how it feels, the mounting tenseness, the exquisite, almost unbearable expectation. Think of that and multiply it by a factor of your own choosing, but make it a big one, and then multiply that again for the moment of release, like a pent up dam of boiling, passionate, utterly intense desire bursting from your body and mind with all the power in the universe and sweeping you up and over a precipice of infinite enjoyment, and all the while feeling the same thing happening to your partner, as if you were Siamese twins co-joined the whole length of your bodies.

  That's what it was like, and more. I had actually felt, or thought I felt, the twin areas of acute pleasure spreading in waves from her torso as the erectile tissue of her nipples rubbed against my chest and the mounting, almost desperate drive for release emanating from the friction of my body between her thighs-and at the same time those sensations heightened my own response in a feedback that reached heights of pure, burning pleasure that I didn't know existed or ever could exist. It took a long, long time to come away from the place where we had gone together and to regain our senses. I was collapsed on top of Mona with my elbows under her, taking some of my weight while her arms and legs still held me in their grip, though not nearly as fiercely as they had just moments ago. I realized with an acute sense of happiness that I felt closer to her than I ever had with any other woman.

  She spoke first, her voice hoarse from the frenzy of her orgasm. “Oh my God Mike, what happened? What was it?” happen

  For a moment I had disbelieved that it could have happened as I remembered it, but she renewed my faith in my own mind. It had indeed taken place and she had felt it as intensely as I had. And as much as I would like to believe it was the result of a newly discovered true love, I knew it had more to do with the bug than anything else. Not that I didn't care for her very much already, even as short a time as we had been together, but a really deep love has to build and develop over time. At least I guess it has to; I had never experienced it, not in marriage and not before or between marriages. Maybe I would find out what it was like now, if the sex and the sensation of closeness were any indication of the future.

  "Mona sweetheart, whatever it was, I think it would kill us if it happened too often."

  "Never. Nothing that beautiful could grow old. But—” Her voice trailed off, unable to analyze what had just happened.

  "But where did it come from?"

  "Yes.” She ran her hands up and down my back and finally let her legs fall away, freeing us to roll onto our sides, but still staying connected-something else I hadn't managed for longer than I cared to remember. It felt wonderful.

  "The bug,” I said. “That's the only thing I can think of. Mona, I haven't even been much interested in sex the last few years and now—"

  "Whatever. If that's what it was, I'm glad you infected me. But also if it was, why on earth would the government try to suppress something so great and beautiful?"

  "Don't want the proletariat to have it?” I suggested, then immediately discounted that idea. “No, the drugs for erectile dysfunction all made it to the market, even when they knew they would be used by normal folks too. It has to be something more than that.” I ran my hand over the curve of her waist and down the length of her thigh, enjoying the smoothness of her skin and the way she responded by pressing close and trying to keep us connected.

  "Mike, now that we've cooled off so to speak, think about what happened. Were we—were we reading each other's mind? That's almost what it felt like."

  I considered. “Well, we were certainly aware of each other's sensations and emotions. That's pretty close to mind reading. It's—for the first time in my life, I can appreciate how a woman feels having sex. It stimulated me even more than I already was. It was sensational, except that's too mild a word."

  "Uh huh.” She pulled at me again, keeping our bodies together. “So maybe that's it. Maybe it will go beyond sex before it's over."

  That made me remember the occasions at the hospital where I thought I had sensed the nurses’ thoughts on two different occasions, but then I discounted the notion. But what if it were true? I didn't like the idea and said so. “I don't know if we're ready for our thoughts to be read. Everyone has their own private world they wouldn't want anyone else to enter, not even someone they loved."

  "True. Well, I guess all we can do is wait and see."

  "Yup. Now I've got another question. How the hell did you know I was even able?"

  "Easy. I saw the way you looked at me. A woman can't mistake that. And Mike, you keep worrying about your age. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

  "Maybe we both ought to,” I said.

  We needed to get up anyway. And then we stood side by side, examining our reflections in the mirror over the basin and counter. I guess I had been trying to deny
the obvious, not wanting to believe it and then be disappointed. Before, I had looked all of my sixty some years, if not more. Now I could easily be taken for a man in his early fifties. My skin was healthier looking, not as dry or lined, and I could swear there wasn't as much gray in my hair as before. Were the brown hairs replacing the gray as they naturally fell out? My paunch, the one that older men almost invariably get had almost disappeared, though I hadn't had that much of one to begin with, having always been naturally slender. And my muscle tone, while hard to see, felt more like a younger version of myself, say about a dozen years younger.

  Mona ran her hands over her arms and chest. “I did have red lumps scattered over my body from the Lupus and I've had to wear makeup to hide the butterfly pattern for several years now. It's gone. My face looks like it used to. And—” She cupped each of her breasts. “See? Hardly a bit of sag now, and they were beginning to droop, partly from simply aging I guess, but also from the Lupus. There's more too. Systemic Lupus does horrible things to you that aren't usually obvious to anyone else, but a person with the disease knows. My joints and internal organs were in bad shape, or so I was told last time I was examined and I'm sure it was true. Some days I could barely get around without pain pills. I guess it could be just a surface phenomena but I feel different inside, like I'm—younger and healthier I guess. Does that make sense?"

  I couldn't answer for a moment for admiring her reflection. Her breasts were firm and more than ample, but as she said, they stood out proudly like a teenager's might and were tipped with rosy brown virginal nipples that drew my gaze like a little boy in front of a candy counter. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen with her dark hair no longer put up in a bun but tumbling in waves past shoulders and framing a face with such finely chiseled features that they immediately made you think of those regal, larger than life princesses of storybooks. I could find no fault at all in her. My only problem was wondering what she saw in me.

  "It makes sense to me. I feel that way too."

  "It's real, isn't it?” Mona whispered. I could tell how desperately she wanted to be free of her disease and be normal again.

  "At least for now. I just hope it lasts. And Sweetheart—this may be one other reason the government wants to suppress the bug. Can you imagine what it would do to the world if everyone started getting younger?"

  "The government couldn't suppress it for long, not if some politicians knew. They would almost have to try to use it to get votes. It's just their nature. I think it must be one of the agencies, maybe not even Homeland Security; they could be dupes for a false story. Possibly the military is the culprit and they're trying to pass it off as a terrorist thing to avoid suspicion of what it really is."

  "You're cynical for someone so young, but I agree with you. A politician could no more keep something like this secret than a banker could resist an increase in interest rates during inflation. But there's still more to it that we haven't figured out."

  Mona put her arms around me. “You said you haven't been very interested in sex lately. Neither have I, not since I got Lupus, and not much before then, not after what happened in New York. Shall we see how long it takes us to get caught up?"

  "I'm willing,” I said, “But can we get something to eat first?"

  "Men. They always want someone to cook for them.” But she laughed as she said it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We showered together, then Mona went out to get us breakfast. I still thought it was best for me to stay out of sight. She brought back sausage biscuits and rolls and coffee, which I would almost have killed for by then. We had forgotten to bring anything to make coffee with, and this particular hotel didn't provide. She also brought back a morning paper.

  One of the front page stories told of an escaped terrorist who had been killed “resisting arrest". The parentheses are mine. The paper played it straight, but give them the benefit of the doubt; they may not have known. That poor man with the mangled legs from the emergency room was undoubtedly dead by now. Chalk up one more for their side.

  * * * *

  We spent the next three days more in bed than out of it, truth be told. It was like a honeymoon where a couple love each other so much they can hardly bear to be separated, even for a minute. Or I suppose it was like that. Neither of my marriages had been that good, but if it were possible, this is the way I would have liked them to be. Better late than never.

  The sex couldn't have gotten any better than the first time I thought, but it turned out that it could. Anyone who has lived with a lover, whether married or not, knows that you gradually find out each other's likes and dislikes in bed, even without much experimentation. I'll confess, I've always been a bit reticent about sex, but the way our minds meshed (and that's the only real way to describe it) compressed the learning curve by magnitudes. The only reason it didn't go even faster was the inherent limitation of our bodies, particularly mine being male. Even so, Mona had no reason to complain. I managed as well as I ever had as a younger man, helped along by her attitude I'm sure.

  Once when we were simply lying in bed, propped up on our pillows, I asked her what it was about me that attracted her; a stupid question I suppose, but I couldn't help it. She was beautiful and thirty years younger than me. I'm not bad looking but certainly no Adonis nor Hercules either. Even if part of it was due to the bug, there had to be something else.

  "Mike love, you make me wonder why any woman would ever divorce you."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Women like honesty and you've got that. You're not a controller like a lot of men. You didn't try to push yourself on me, and if you've got a line of blarney, it's so subtle I haven't caught a hint of it."

  I chuckled mirthlessly. “You know, I've always kind of envied those type of guys in one way. They can talk women into bed with hardly any effort and it doesn't seem to matter whether they're sorry bastards or not. You know why my first wife wanted a divorce? She said I didn't excite her like I should, that I just wanted to work and stay home and be a dull old husband. And all the time, I thought that was the idea."

  Mona rolled on to her side and put her hand on my chest. “That's the instant gratification syndrome. A lot of women want to be wooed over and over again. I guess there's nothing wrong with it, but I like something deeper in a man. The way you took care of me when I was sick, and the way you offered to separate to make it safer for me when I know you wanted to stay; things like that mean a lot to me. And there's other little items I could mention if I wanted to, like being a reader and being considerate, but really, I like you for the very reasons that a lot of women wouldn't. They're the ones who wind up getting divorced because they thought they wanted excitement in a man, then find out that exciting men are usually too full of themselves to make good husbands. And believe me, that's something I learned the hard way."

  I kissed her and told her I shouldn't have brought the subject up and that I was sorry if I had brought back bad memories. She told me to shut up and make love to her again. I told her she was so beautiful I was scared she would break and she told me—well, use your own imagination. We got to know each other really well in just a few days and I found myself in love, really in love, for the first time in my life.

  * * * *

  I rode out with Mona one morning, waiting until most of the commuters had left for work and even then we went out the back way where she had parked in the alley, just to avoid questions from any nosy neighbors that might still be around. Ten o'clock was the first window I had given in my letter to Colonel Shell to call us. Mona drove back toward Dallas then east on I-20 to get well away from her home. Even disposable phones can be traced if an agency wants to put enough effort and manpower into it.

  I let Mona answer, then leaned in close so both of us could listen.

  "Hi Injun,” he said, a code phrase I had asked him to use. We had kidded each other for years about our common Cherokee Indian ancestry. “Listen up. Your friend is the damnedest thing I'
ve ever run across, just like you said it was. It's a parasite, or perhaps a symbiote in some cases. First run on human cell cultures showed it multiplying extremely rapidly, then killing the culture, every time. Same for other mammalian cultures. The type of cell didn't appear to make any difference. It also killed all the mice that were injected with it very quickly and the post on them showed it invading other organs from the initial blood infection that we started it from. I told the lab not to try it on any other animals yet. In the meantime, how are you feeling?"

  I decided to speak up, getting real close to Mona to be sure he could hear me. “Like I'm ten years younger, Jim. And I've got another bit of data. It appears to either have cured or is in the process of curing a case of advanced SLE.” There was only so much circumlocution we could use and I felt like that was important information.

  "Be damned. Tell me, do you look as young as you feel?"

  I glanced at Mona and grinned like an idiot. “He looks a dozen years younger. So do I, almost,” she said.

  "Well, that makes sense. Whatever it is invades every cell of the body in humans, like it did in the mice, if the male cheek swab you sent is any indication. The female shows a few infected cells but most of the basal cells probably haven't worked far enough up to show up in her yet.” He was talking about the fictitious names we had labeled our specimens with.

  "We suspected as much,” I said. “Anything else?"

  "Nothing, other than it's hard to kill, but not indestructible.” His voice was fading. I thought it was the phone and asked him to speak up.

  "Sorry, I'm weak. Mi-Injun, I'm going to try it."

  I knew what he meant. “You're sure?"

  I heard him start to laugh then it cut off abruptly. He gasped, then apologized. “Sorry. Damn, I can't even laugh any more without it hurting. Yes, I'm certain. I have nothing to lose."

  I didn't try to dissuade him. As he said, he wasn't risking much. And perhaps it would help. I certainly hoped so.