The Aphrodite Virus began, like most others in recent years, in a town in the corner of China. Some experts speculated that it was a government project gone wrong, while others theorized that fisherman had hauled in some unknown deep sea bacteria and unwittingly released it into the marketplace. Ultimately nobody really knew the truth, or if they did, they weren't telling.
Of course in those days it wasn't called the Aphrodite Virus, it had some other name that was soon forgotten.
It presented itself like an upper respiratory infection, starting our with congestion, a cough and a high fever. It seemed to run through the Chinese population over night, and in less than a week there were reported cases in France, Italy and Africa. By the end of week two it was working its way up both seaboards of the United States.
The first peculiarity of the virus was that it seemed to strike only women over the age of 18. The second was that it seemed to have a 100 percent saturation. Once it presented itself in a community, within days every adult woman had either been hospitalized or was under a doctor's care.
The third thing that struck experts was that there seemed to be no deaths associated with the pandemic, which was unusual considering even e coli outbreaks generally ended with a handful of deaths.
Then the media went silent. As Aphrodite was making its way into the heartland of America, all reports coming out of Asia stopped. Then one by one, each of the other infected countries went silent.
In the small mountain town of Broken Creek, Kentucky, it took the virus less than two days to run through the entire female population of the 4,000 person community. The Broken Creek Medical Center was filled to capacity as doctors tried in vain to treat what their colleagues from around the globe had been unable to treat.
By the third day, Broken Creek was like a ghost town. Sheriff Frankie Mullins was absolutely shocked as he drove his SUV through town and didn't see a soul. Businesses were closed down. Stores were boarded up. All that was missing was tumbleweeds blowing down Main Street.
He pulled into the only business in town he knew was open, The Busy Bee Cafe and parked in the nearly empty parking lot. Carl, the owner, had sent his last waitress home two days earlier, but he was determined that he was not going to shut down. Since he had been manning the counter and the grill...not that he had much business other than Sheriff Mullins.
"Morning, Frankie," Carl said as he stepped inside. The owner was leaning against the counter watching the Today Show on television. "What can I get you?"
"The usual," Frankie said as he sat down on a stool at the bar.
He glanced up at the television, surprised to see that Hoda Kotb had returned to her co-anchor duties alongside Al Roker.
"Hoda, I just have to say that its nice to have you back," Roker was saying. "I know we have all been very concerned about you since you got sick."
Before Hoda could respond, the door to the cafe banged open and the local high school principal entered. John Suttle had only been in Broken Creek for a few years, but he had been embrassed by the community like few outsiders, largely due to the fact that he had lost his wife soon after arriving in town.
A town of 4,000 people and only three single guys had managed to get out. Carl, like John was a widower. Frankie had been twice engaged but never married.
"Morning, Sheriff," Suttle said.
"John."
Suttle sat down beside him and for a moment the two of them made small talk about the upcoming basketball season, as if the entire world wasn't in disarray and the season could possibly go on as planned.
"What in the holy fuck!" Carl snapped as he came around the counter with Frankie's breakfast. He was staring at the television.
Frankie looked up at the screen in shock. Today Show host Savannah Guthrie was topless and had Al Roker's arms pinned behind his back. The jolly weather man was down on his knees in front of Kotb, who had her skirt hiked up to reveal a 1970's style bush. She had her hands wrapped around Roker's head and was forcing his face down into her pussy.
"Eat me, Al!" she was yelling. "Fuck yes. Who is the co-host now, bitch?"
"What in the hell?" John said aloud.
Frankie was still trying to find words to say when he radio chirped. He had a call. He stared at the graphic sex scene playing out on national television a moment longer before tossing a five on the counter and excusing himself.