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Patient Zero


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I'm a full-grown adult now, but that totally happened without my consent. I was never ready to be an a grownup and take responsibility for my own life. This would be particularly embarrassing if I were to admit my real age now -- which I won't. Let's just say that I was a child of the 1980's, and leave it that. Was it because I was an only child, born to parents who'd wanted a big family? And treated me like a baby for far too long? People think only kids are spoiled and that's certainly correct. Or at least it was back then. That status comes with a price, though. All of my parents' expectations were put on me instead of spread out among three or four siblings. I was pushed to read books before I was even fully comfortable with the alphabet. It was a confusing. I remember Dad handing me the evening paper when he came home from work and telling me to be prepared to discuss what I'd read at the dinner table. Pressure. Oh man. I couldn't decipher much.

"Well?", my dad would ask as he forked meat loaf into his mouth.

"There's a movie coming to The Twilight called "Tron". It looks good. Can we go see it?" His expression told me that we would not.  

"Did you read any of the news stories? We need to get you a tutor. I've already got some names. Meanwhile -- finish your plate, drink your milk and the go watch CNN. Soak up some real news for once."

For once? They were always watching that channel. None of it was very interesting to me. I gave no shits about politics or Reagan or any of stuff. But an emerging story did catch my attention. There was a deadly disease spreading around gay communities that they couldn't figure out. All they knew was that Africans had started it and it had something to do with monkeys. Possibly. I just wasn't old enough to dissect this information. As horrific as this story was, it did help me strive to learn more. My reading skills improved rapidly due to my interest in AIDS. It was a medical mystery that had elements of horror and sex. Gay men were getting sick and dying after sucking or doing other things with an infected dick. Sperm and blood seemed to be part of it. 

By sixth grade, I was going to the public library and poring through periodicals for more information. Would I get this disease? I was probably gay -- was that enough to doom me? I read the articles with a chill running up my neck and over my scalp. A year or so later, I read about the Patient Zero. He was supposedly the guy who introduced the disease to our country. His name was Gaetan Dugas...a Canadian flight attendant who had brought the virus to New York. He was handsome, blonde and athletic. I looked at his black and white photo over and over. He was responsible for this mess, but that didn't make him any less beautiful to look at. He died in 1983. His kidneys had failed because of the AIDS virus. 

I skipped Junior High altogether because the administration decided I was "advanced". If they only knew I spent all my free time lusting after an older blonde man who was dead now. You can only guess how hard it was to look ten years old and be in a classroom with teens who were developing adult bodies. I was made fun of and picked on every single day! Miserable...but I kept my head down and advanced. Most of the teachers seemed to dislike me too, but were still giving me good grades. When would I ever fit in anywhere? Never? 

The Summer before junior year, I grew into a man. My voice got deeper and my height increased by almost a foot. "Growth Spurt" was what hey called it. I don't think my spinal cord was ready for it because it started to curve a bit. You couldn't tell unless my shirt was off -- which it never was. I'd been lucky enough to miss P.E. classes. I spent my time reading or daydreaming. AIDS was of no concern to the kids around me. It was 'a fag disease', and it happened 'somewhere else'. I was still obsessed with it though. Maybe it was the sexual aspect of it. I sat in the library and read all the magazines that featured stories about the emerging epidemic. I remember one piece in "Newsweek" about the devastation in San Francisco. There was a black and white photo of a solitary man wearing only a white towel, sitting alone on a bench. It was taken in the city's only remaining bath house. I had no idea what a bath house was...it seemed like a big locker room. Was this the kind of place where sexy Gaetan had gone to first spread the viral load he had between his legs. I'm sure they had those kind of places in New York. 

Maybe he went to one of those gay bars...like 'The Dark" which was in our town. I imagined what it was like back in the early 80's. I knew a lot from reading, and I knew that over a decade had passed since The Stonewall Riots. Gays were fighting for rights and (slowly) becoming a presence in American culture. They didn't have to worry about unwanted pregnancy, they fucked with no worries. I imagined a smoky bar full of hot gay men, drinking beer from bottles and touching each other. Lots of leather. They'd think nothing of a dashing blonde walking in and ordering a drink. He was handsome, but there were probably a hundred handsome there. Competition. He had a ticking bomb inside him that would change gay life for many years. Inside of his balls was a virus that would claim so many millions of lives, but on that particular night he was just a face in the crowd. I thought about who he'd meet first, who would buy him a drink and flirt with him. Did he have a French accent like some Canadians do? 

Is it weird that I wanted to be the guy who found him first? If only I could go back in time and be 'Patient One'. I guess the responsible thing would be to kill the both of us afterward, but I don't know if I could do that. I was leading such a sexless life then that I would take whatever from whomever. You could say that I was a 'bug chaser' before the term existed. If only. Did death and disease turn me on? Possibly. 

Fast forward to my 18th birthday. I was in my third year of college and had changed quite a bit. I lived in one of those "progressive" dorms. You know --  artists, hippies, Wiccans. etc. I was smoking clove cigarettes and took a drink from time to time. My roommate was a 'performance artist' and was usually on a mushroom trip. We got along. I was working on a double major and didn't really pay attention to what went on around me. There was a smoking room in the school's giant library. and I'd go there every hour or so to get my fix. Of course there would be one or two gay dudes there. One of them would always make eye contact with me, but I wasn't into him. Not at all. I had a 'type' and he wasn't even close. I liked the menacing, dangerous type. He had a man purse, for Christ's sake.

I was coming back from the library when I first felt the pain in my chest. I thought it was from the cold air. I continued on back toward the dorms, but they were so far. Maybe if I just sat for a minute...

blackness

I remember feeling so much better a few minutes later, better than I'd ever felt. I remember bits and pieces of falling to the sidewalk on campus. I might have hit my head...or had heart failure. Whatever -- I guess I died. Right? Was there any kind of official confirmation from an angel or something when you passed on? Did God chime in with a "howdy-do"? Maybe that happened for normal people, good people. I was alone in darkness, listening to loud traffic and footsteps and crowds talking. Maybe if everybody shut up for a minute, I could hear the tiny voice of my deceased grandmother. Maybe...

"Oh, Honey! Did you start too early? Let me help you up, OK?" A drag queen in a blonde wig with shoulders like a linebacker lifted me to my feet. I was in a city that I guessed was New York based on the skyline. Yep. I was dead. This was too unreal to be not unreal. "Can you walk? Do you need a cab?"


I suddenly felt just fine. Perfect, actually. I was aware that I was dressed differently...very differently. I was wearing black leather boots with small silver chains across the tops of my feet. My jeans were grubby and torn -- as was my white t-shirt. I had on a leather jacket that was boss as hell. Yep. This was either a dream or a post-death illusion. I turned to the drag queen and 'her' companion. She was tall and dolled-up to the max. She might have been going for a Mae West look, but was too tall and thin to pull it off convincingly. Her friend was a short, dumpy little guy who looked bored and on the verge of a making a run for it. I just walked with them for a block or two.

"What year is this?" 

"Lordy! Are you that far gone?  Did you drink too much tonight?"

"No. I think I'm dead. I'm supposed to be in 1992."

Mae West stopped and grabbed my arm. "Dear me. Eddie -- we are in the company of a time-traveler here!" The dumpy dude just looked at his watch and sighed.

"No. I'm just a little confused is all. Please tell me today's date and I'll leave you two alone."

"It is May 1st, 1981. You are probably headed to 'The Eagle's Nest', right? You've got the look. We're going further up the block  to someplace a little more friendly. Come join us later if you get a chance. Here you go, Sweetie. That black door under the light bulb is your place. Do you still have your wallet with you?" Fuck if I knew. Yeah. I did. It was thick with cash, but no credit cards, no student I.D. . 

"Yeah. I'm good. Thanks for your help, Beautiful Angel."  She blew me a kiss and moved on. I was here the same night Patient Zero had arrived in town on a layover. I was getting my chance to be his first 'victim'.  I guess that was why I was here. To let the AIDS virus begin and end with me. He'd be sick and dying in a short tine and I was already dead -- so what would be the problem?  Once inside the door, I was immediately struck by how many hot men were there. New York. All the beauties migrated to this city. Where was Gaetan? Had he not arrived yet? I had no idea what time it was, but it seemed early. I got a beer from the bar and maneuvered through the crowd of men until I found a space to lean against the grimy wall. A handsome man - dressed just like I was - came up and offered me a cigarette. 

"Hi. I'm Tommy. Are you new in town?"

"Very."

"I thought so. You like it so far?"

"Yeah. I'm waiting for someone, but this place is so big. It's just important that we meet."

"Well..this place has four levels. This is the main bar, and there's a dance floor upstairs. The top level is completely dark and you can get into the heavy stuff. The basement is only open for brown or yellow parties."

"What are those?"

"God, you really are new. 'Yellow Parties' are for men who like to piss on each other and drink piss and stuff like that. 'Brown Parties' are pretty much the same except with shit instead of pee. It's invitation only, but I can introduce you to the guy who works here and makes the guest list." He arched his eyebrows and looked at me with some sort of flirty expectation.

"Uh. No. I don't think so."

He probably regretted buying me a beer. Did he do it so I'd later urinate it on him? Who knows. This was like being in a foreign country and dealing with locals who knew everything already. I decided to move more toward the entrance so I could catch a glimpse of Gaetan when he entered. I also needed to find the restroom. I'd drank that beer a little too fast. Jesus -- who knows what I'd find in there? I asked a big fat guy with a tattooed neck where the restrooms were, and he pointed me in the direction. My bladder was about to burst as I found my way inside the dimmest, grossest bathroom in the world. Was I in Hell now? I knew I was dead but that thought took a backseat to my my desperate need to piss. Normally, I'm one of those 'pee shy' guys who can't go if anyone else is near. Fuck that now. I let loose a long, thick stream in the only empty urinal and groaned a little. I knew there were men all around me...and maybe they had thoughts or comments about me...or maybe not. It was probably pointless to wash my hands, but I always did it back when I was alive. Habit. Then I saw my reflection in the smeared mirror. Who the hell was that?! I guess it looked like me in some ways, but I was older (28? 29?) and the shape of my jaw had changed. It was more square and had a cleft in my chin. I looked like a guy I'd be attracted to. The afterlife wasn't so bad after all.

I moved back through the crowd to find a spot close to the entrance. There was a table that looked like a strategic place to sit and watch for Gaetan. There was another dude sitting there, but the confidence I felt from my fake new looks. He wouldn't mind. He was a bearded big guy in full leather drag...including the cop cap. 

"Howdy. Mind if I sit here for a second?"

"Not at all. I've never seen you here before..are you new in town?"

"You could say that."

"I did say that. You don't have a drink....let me get you one. What's your brand?" His big brown eyes crinkled when he smiled.

"Anything. I'll have what your having." He stood up from the bar stool, looking all tall and massive. It occurred to me that I could suck this stud's dick and let him fuck me, and there would be no consequences...except maybe a few of those STDs that weren't life-threatening. I wasn't really here, so why not just have as much fun as possible? The music from the dance floor upstairs got louder all the sudden. Donna Summer...'I feel loooo-ooove' . 

My big grizzly returned with a two bottles of a weird beer I'd never seen before and two shot glasses. I knew how it worked. You downed the shot and the drank the beer. Right? I have no idea what the liquor in the shot was, but it had a nice burn. We sipped the brews and got friendly.

"I'm Burt. What's your name?"

"Ross. Nice to meet you. It's getting loud in here all of the sudden."

"Midnight. So I guess you've never been here before."

"Nope. I talked to some guy earlier who told me about all the levels. I'd like to check them out...but not the basement."

He grinned. "It stinks like an outhouse down there. There's black garbage bags covering the floor and walls...and weird stuff like random bathtubs and ...it's not my thing."

"Do you dance?"

"I LOVE to dance, but I usually don't because I look like a giant circus animal on the dance floor."

"Nah. I want to dance with you, Burt."

He warmed to the idea and led me up the stairs to where disco beats were still alive and thriving. And so loud. Blondie started cooing out an extended version of "Heart of Glass". Even though only about ten guys were there, I grabbed Burt's giant hand and led him out under the spinning lights.  Songs like that get inside your body and make it move for you. I was really enjoying myself, but felt like I was overheating. I moved my mouth close to his ear and asked if there was a safe place I could leave my jacket. He nodded. We both took our leather off and he carried them somewhere. Such a cool relief. When Burt returned he made a comment about my body. It seemed like he thought I should remove my t-shirt too. Uh, no. I was very shy in my old life and never exposed my underdeveloped torso -- plus there was that curve in my back. But what the hell? I was in a death dream or something anyway. My face had changed, and so maybe my body did too. 

"I will if you will." That's all it took for him to rip the shirt from my body as he also removed mine. He tossed them over his shoulder like pieces of trash. I might have been upset if not for the sight of his abundant body hair and impressive build. Big bulge as well. I'd forgotten all about Patient Zero now. I wanted to have sex with Burt. Soon. Sadly, the Blondie song smoothly transitioned into a thumping disco song I'd never heard. Burt said something I didn't quite hear. I gave him a look that was supposed to say "what?", but he just got closer and wrapped me in a big sweaty hug. Then the music stopped (or so I thought) and the room went completely dark...

  "Open your eyes, Ross. ROSS! Wake up and look at us!" My mother's voice.

  "I think his color is better today. A little. Open your eyes right now, young man!" Dad.

  Another voice mumbled. A woman. I'm almost certain it was my aunt Bev. Maybe. "Do they know yet? Do they know what caused this?"

  "Not yet. I thought for sure it was speed or some other drug, but I checked his computer at the dorm and his phone. No clues there." Good old dad.

  "His heartbeat is almost regular now and he can breathe on his own, but he won't wake up."

  "The doctor is supposed to check in before noon." Mom sounded hopeful.

Then it was back to the dance floor with Burt all over me. We weren't even dancing, just vertically humping.

"You stumbled. Are you wasted?"

"No. Just halfway between life and death."

"That's all of us, Ross." He grinned and I was now certain that I wanted to have sex with him...while this dream/afterlife lasted. 

"Show me the upstairs, Burt."

Another wide grin. "You sure? There's no light and usually crazy shit going on."

"Yeah, I'm not really here anyway. Lead the way." For whatever reason, Burt seemed to like my cryptic words. Or maybe he just thought I was drunk. Fine line.

"The stairs are a little steep...and completely unlit. I'll go first, but grab my belt so you you can follow safely."

"How about I just grab your ass?"

"That works, Buddy!"

Total darkness. I thought he was giving me further instructions, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

  "Ross! We know you can hear us, Honey. Your brain waves and blood pressure are almost normal. Talk! Wake up!" My poor mom. If only she would leave me alone for a little longer.

  "It was a heart attack," my dad said. "Apparently he's got a faulty valve. It has a name, but I can't remember it." Dad.

  "Can it be fixed?" That was my cool aunt again. I was glad she was keeping my joyless parents company.

  "He's gay, by the way. There is some shit on the laptop that confirms it. He was apparently obsessed with the guy who brought AIDS to North America."

  God love my aunt...her own brain waves were always amped to the max. "He may have been working on a term paper...and would have found out that the guy they called 'Patient Zero' was      not the real culprit. Apparently, HIV came to the United States in the 70's. and it sprang up in several cities at about the same time."

 "Who gives a good goddamn?! He's a gay kid in a coma. Don't say one more word for now, Bev." Count on Dad to always have my back.

"Damn, kid. You stumbled again. Are you sure you're up for this?" Burt grabbed my hand with his giant paw.

"Yeah. I don't see so well in the dark." 

"We're in luck. There's a little bit of light. Little camping lanterns or something. Too bad we're here already...I liked you holding my ass."

"The pleasure was all mine, Burt."

He wrapped a massive arm around my shoulders. "The bar is right up here in the front. I need something strong just now...you?"

"VERY strong." I heard all kinds of sex noises from every direction. 'Enjoy it while you can' was all I thought. Burt left me alone there in the semi-dark. That's when I saw him. Gaeten. I knew it was him because I'd memorized what his photos looked like. He was striking, with that blonde hair and mustache. He was standing (maybe shorter than I'd thought), right next to one of those little lanterns because I guess he knew he looked good lit from below. It made his jaw look stronger and sharper. He was not at all muscular, but his features were striking. I considered my situation. I had Burt - who was fetching me a drink, and who I was attracted to -- and I also felt as though I was here on a mission and had to do this...get his infected seed somehow. We locked eyes and I smiled in his direction. He responded instantly and motioned me over.  I went right to him like I was in a trance.

"Hi. I think I know you. You work for a Canadian airline, right?

He was taken aback a little...  "How did you know? I've only been to New York four times before, and I never met a guy that looked like you."

I was either drunk or cocky ... or stupid when I said "You're famous." That somehow made him feel good about himself because he put a small finger to my face,

"Ahhh. Thanks. I'm a real blonde -- just so you know."

I was about to say another flirty thing when Burt found me, and wrapped me up in his big,bare arm. He pulled me to the side a bit...

"He's a dud. I've fucked him twice -- and he fucked me once. Smallest dick ever. I barely felt it, but he does have that French passion. The accent was the only reason I let him fuck me a month ago. Twice. I don't like getting fucked, but I was okay with it."

So I guess I wasn't going to be 'Patient One' -- maybe not two or three either. Did this mean Burt was infected? It didn't make sense. Why was I here? Why now? I knew from some movie I watched once that little brain adventures like this happened for a reason. Was I suppose to learn a life lesson? What was the end game?

"Let's go somewhere and talk, Burt."

At first he grinned like 'talk' was code for 'fuck', but I think he could tell by my expression that I was troubled by something.

"What's wrong? Did you want the French guy to join us? I'd be open to just about anything tonight."

"No. Do you know what's going on? Are you part of this? I just need to know if all of you here are in on it."

"Uh oh. You're on something, right?"

"No...I mean...I'm not sure."

He took my hand and led me through a maze of guys getting blow jobs and doing other stuff. We were at the far end of the room with a little battery-powered lantern on the floor. "Guys always steal these things and take them home. That way they see some sponsor's logo every day. I'll grab one for you if I want."

"Sure -- but I don't think I live here in New York, or even have a place." I was about to elaborate a little more but I stumbled again. Backwards. I'd stepped on and fell back on a large gym mat. I remember these from P.E. class. Burt plopped down too.

"I think you need to just clear your head a little. Relax. At least this mat feels relatively clean. Rest for a minute, Ross. I'll be right back."

I was flat on my back, looking at dancing shadows and listening to grunts, moans, and "Fuck yeah!"s. I had to be dead. That was the only explanation for this. For all I knew there could be gateway to Narnia nearby. Then Burt was back down on the mat with me. He had two more beers for us and some things in a plastic baggie. 

"What's that?"

"I scored some lube and poppers from a friend of mine who works at the bar. Am I assuming too much? I just want to fuck the weirdness out of you, Buddy."

"Yeah. I want that. I've never done poppers before, but I know what they are."

He opened a tiny little bottle and sniffed the opening. "Sit up a little. There you go. Now inhale through your nose, deep. I'm going to take your boots off."

It reminded me of some smell from a mechanics garage. And then I felt my head spin...in a good way. Burt had taken off my boots, socks, pants and underwear. Good. And the he took off the rest of his clothes and it was a sight to behold....the lantern light made his naked body look otherworldly somehow. His big sweaty boner looked like some sort of beautiful monster from where I was viewing it. Hell, that thing made a long shadow that reached all the way to his chin. Wow. All man.

"Yeah. I knew it. You're an angel of some sort."

"Never been called that before. How do you like it? On your back?"

"However you want. I've never done this, Burt. Take over." I didn't need to say much more because already working a fat finger covered with lube into mt butt hole. My friend Arna from high school told me all about her first time. She said it was the same kind of pain as if you pulled your earlobe really hard. His big finger was already causing me some discomfort, and he was breathing heavily as he worked deeper into my ass. I think he had two fingers up there by the time I took my third sniff from the bottle of poppers. Maybe three fingers. I felt open and free of worry. 

"Lift your knees up as close to your chest as you can. Good. Just like that. Now...get ready." His full weight was on me and I was thankful for the cushion beneath me. Burt's erection was poking all around my hole, trying to find the prize. He found it. DAMN! It hurt when he snaked it in, but I didn't complain at all. 

"Ahhh. Wow."

"Damn, boy. You are so tight down there...it's like a fist is grabbing my cock. If you don't loosen up a little, I'm going to fucking cum too fast..."

"Do it, Burt. Get me pregnant!"

"You can't open a little? Just a little?"

As much as I willed myself to relax, it wasn't happening. Burt was thrusting and sweating as his shadowy expression told me he was close to an orgasm. Was he about to infect me? he had to..or this "journey" was pointless. He went all the way to the end of my insides and groaned loudly. He was emptying his load into the center of me. "FUCK! I....I hope I didn't hurt you too bad." I answered him with a deep kiss and let him rest on top of me for a minute.

We'd drawn a small crowd of guys in various stages of arousal. I can almost remember being shy and easily-embarrassed. They moved closer. As soon as Burt stood up, another dude was on top of me. I didn't agree to this, but I was in no position to fight back. I wondered if Burt would rescue me, but he seemed to not care. "Go ahead and get a piece of that...he's a mental case and probably high as hell."

A total of seven guys fucked me as the night went on. The lanterns were losing power and the room got darker, but I still recognized the face of the slender guy fucking me...it was Gaetan. He did indeed have passion in his hips. 

"Thank you for doing this."

He was confused. "Uh. My pleasure. Remember me when you get back."

That was an odd thing to say, but I was in an odd world. Then all the lanterns finally died out and I was in blackness again. I felt used and abused, but it didn't matter.

  "He's awake. His eyelids are fluttering and he looked right at me for half a second." Mom.

  "Ross? How do you feel? Can you speak to me, honey?"

  I tried to open my mouth, but I felt completely dehydrated and unable to form words.

  "You're in the hospital. You had an episode with your heart, but it can be repaired with surgery. You'll be good as new after that."

  Well, that was good. 

  "They have to wait to do the procedure until your fever comes down. Hospitals are so full of germs -- you never know what you're going to catch."

  "You have no idea," I thought.

 

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