Mandemic Chapter 6

6. Concerns

Read on, or start at the beginning… Mandemic Part 1

It had been after midnight when Laura left and Alice hadn’t bothered to look in on her husband before going to bed. He woke up the following morning when he heard the front door shut as she was leaving for work. It was a strange development for Mark. Until now Alice had allways seemed to be concerned for his well-being.

Emerging from his room, it looked as though his wife and her friend had enjoyed quite a party. An empty bottle of wine stood on the table, another had been tossed into the bin in the corner of the room. Two wine glasses, their rims smeared with lipstick, stood on the table beside two shot glasses and an almost empty bottle of vodka. Mark couldn’t remember how much had been in it before but he was pretty sure they had only opened it a day or so before.

More disturbing were the signs of the entertainment the girls had enjoyed. He found a pair of his wife’s knickers discarded on the couch. Then, when he started to tidy up the room, he found a black satin bra that definitely wasn’t one of hers tucked behind one of the cushions.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and took it back to his room before he put on his hood and air filters back on, returned to the living room and set to clearing up, feeling annoyed at the way Alice was taking him for granted. He turned on the radio. The music was cheerful. It should have helped his mood but somehow didn’t.

The mid-morning news bulletin with its latest data on infection numbers, mortality rates and discouraging progress with a research programme that had been hoping to develop a vaccine, depressed him further.

Mark went looking for his wife’s laptop. Eventually he found it in her bedroom. The MensNet boards were busy. They often were mid-morning when women were out working and men had the opportunity for some time to themselves. One thread had half a dozen posts from two men discussing where it was best to head for if you decided to go on the run and take your chance. Colorado, Wyoming and Montana seemed to have the lowest infection rates but quarantine enforcement was pretty aggressive. Tennessee was a better bet according to one post, if you could find a way to get there. Fat chance of that, Mark thought, assuming he got fed up enough with the situation at home to make want to leave his wife and take the risk, unaccompanied men couldn’t use public transport easily and hitching or walking along country roads was likely to attract the attention of the police. Someone had said they had thought of stealing their wife’s car but then realised that they would have to drive in their hood and goggles and run the risk of being stopped and asked why they were driving alone or they’d have to put on a wig and make up and try to pretend that they were a legitimate female driver and take the risk of becoming infected. Someone else suggested trying to get overseas but nobody could point to a country that hadn’t embargoed all travel by American males to avoid importing the virus. He supposed Mexico or Canada was a possibility too but to the south what had been intended to keep immigrants out was now being used to prevent the infected or vulnerable leaving and to the north passage across the Lakes was hazardous and the 49^th parallel was well guarded too.

None of the possibilities sounded attractive to Mark.

Another thread was debating whether or not there was any progress on a vaccine. There were plenty who felt that there was one already but that it was being kept secret so that the women still had the excuse to control things. Mark didn’t really believe that. It was true, of course, that the longer things went on, the tighter grip women were taking on the economic and political world but that was just the result of the situation, Mark thought. He didn’t imagine there was any real conspiracy. Although, curiously since the main political offices had been taken over by women a lot of the chopping and changing on measures to control the outbreak had stopped. Those in charge said that was because it was easier now to implement a consistent set of measures. Some of the posters on Mensnet seemed to think it was because the international conspiracy of women had got what they wanted and didn’t need to do any more. It all sounded far-fetched to Mark. Plenty of those posting disagreed with him though. Of course, nobody had any idea of what to do about it.

Mark heard the sound of a horn. That would be the mobile shop, he thought. With men restricted pretty much to their houses and women out working, local delivery services had sprung up. He needed some food for the pantry and some cleaning materials after the mess he had needed to deal with in the living room. He checked his suit and gloves, fitted his hood, goggles and breathing mask in place, made sure his microphone was switched on and headed for the door.

There was already a queue by the truck. Three other men, all dressed like himself were standing waiting to be served by a fat women who looked jolly behind her own surgical mask. Mark joined the queue, keeping the required distance from the man in front. He turned around.

“Hi, Mark,” a metallic voice sounded.

Mark wasn’t sure for the moment who it was but then, recognising the slight tubby form of his neighbour, realised it was Jack from two properties down the block. “Uhh, Jack?” his own voice, distorted by his throat mike and speaker, sounded almost identical.

“Uh huh. How’s it going?”

“Not great.” Actually, thought Mark, ‘not great’ is an understatement. I’m confined to the house, forced to wear a rubber suit and all the rest of this stuff; at risk of a fatal infection; required to donate sperm on a regular basis; and my wife has just hooked up with a girlfriend as an alternative to having sex with me. “No,” he said, “worse than not great.”

The queue shuffled forward as the woman dealt with the first of them.

Jack didn’t say anything else but shuffled forward again and reached the head of the queue. He made his purchases and as soon as he had finished, he nodded at Mark and headed home. Mark did his own shopping and returned too.

When he got indoors, a message was waiting for him on the home answerphone. “Mark, darling,” it was his wife, “I’ll be late tonight. Laura’s heard about this party and we’re going straight from work. So don’t wait up and make sure you finish your chores.”

A few minuted later there was a knock on the front door. A woman in the brown uniform of the local delivery service was waiting when Mark opened the door. She held out a small square parcel and Mark took it from her in rubber gloved hands.

He knew what it was. The government sent them out regularly to all males to collect sperm deposits. The packages were unmarked but always the same, in the same wrapping and the same size. He knew that she knew what it was. She didn’t actually say, “Enjoy your wank,” but there was something about her smirk that made Mark imagine she was thinking it.

Mark put the box on the hall table. It would have to wait until Alice came back with the key to his enclosure. She would want to supervise the process anyway. The shielding scheme required that she sign off the donation as his and she was always one to do things by the book. Plus, Mark thought, she’d be wanting to make sure he didn’t enjoy himself too much.

Now read on with Chapter 7.