Quaranteam: Project RED - Ch. 01

Thanks to CorruptingPower for permission to make my little contribution to the ever-growing world of Quaranteam, and thanks to the whole collective for their feedback on the writing, and keeping me on the straight and narrow when it comes to canon.

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Chapter 1: The Curtains Twitch

Project update 3, 2020-08-05

In vitro and animal model testing of the latest variation is extremely promising—full details in the attached report. Small batch production has been requested, and in vivo testing on project internal volunteers will be undertaken as soon as we have viable doses available.

I've authorised selection of potential study participants, and tests of an adjusted Oracle system are progressing well. Once we're happy with both, some of my juniors will start making contact. Then we can start working out what medical staff we'll need. Team dynamic modelling suggests that early additional members with a well-defined role may be beneficial to Team stability. We may be able to achieve a double benefit by including someone with a rehabilitation support role.

Professor Ramkissoon remains sceptical, but is definitely taking an interest in the science. We might even get him on board whether this works or not.

I remain optimistic on both counts.

Harold is keen for an update on progress for vaccinations for people who aren't suitable for the current process. Has there been any movement on that?

Keep me in the loop!

Dr Sarah Zedner

Lead Scientist, Project R. E. D.

PS: Drs Price and Collins CCed at their request. Jordan, let me know if anything here jumps out as useful for what you're working on.

* * * * *

7th August 2020, around 12:30 p. m.

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Each with sandwiches in hand, Rob and Kat were back in their living room, Kat reading on her Kindle, weighted blanket pulled over her legs, and Rob at his computer. He was determined to see what else he could discern from the unusual pattern of emails intended for magistrates working in the adult courts.

Yes, definitely multiple emails about the Single Justice Procedure. There! A message from the Senior District Judge… changes to prosecution policy and the SJP…

Just then, his phone gave a distinctive ping. Outlook. A new email to his magistrate's account. He quickly closed the document preview—he would get back to it later—to see what the new email was. It appeared to be from the Judicial Office, the central administration for the judiciary as a whole, but the substance of the message clearly didn't originate there.

— Dear Robert Brook JP

— We have been asked to pass on a message to selected Judicial Office Holders. You are one of those that we have been asked to contact.

— As part of a project to improve our pandemic response, a small number of carefully-selected people are invited to take part in a study. For the purposes of this study, both you and your wife will have to take part. It is of no value to the study if only one of you engages with the process.

Rob stopped reading at that point.

"Kat, something strange here," he said, glancing over to his wife.

"Yes, love?" she responded. "Something in those adult court emails you were going to look into?"

"No. Well, yes, probably, but I just got a new email and it's… different." He opened it on his phone and passed it across for her to read.

"A study… that they want us both to take part in?"

"That's as far as I got before I told you about it, I'm reading the rest now."

— At the end of this email is a personalised link for each of you. This will take you to a non-disclosure agreement required for participants in the study, followed by the survey itself.

— I strongly urge you, if you choose to participate, to complete the survey in an entirely frank and honest manner. I am assured that, while it is rather irregular, this study will be of great value to the UK's response to the pandemic.

— I have also been asked to encourage you to take part, but I leave it to your judgement, given your commitment to public service and the principles of your oath of allegiance, to decide that for yourself.

Rob looked over to his wife, who was ready to pass his phone back to him. Of course, she'd finished reading it first. Even though she'd probably read the first part as well.

"So, should I forward the link to you?" he asked. Kat looked thoughtful for several moments.

"No. I think you should open your link and see what this is about." She paused for a moment, thinking further. "Could someone have spoofed the Judicial Office email address?"

"No, it's a closed system," Rob affirmed, clicking on the link designated as his.

A straightforward, business-like website opened up. In each top corner was a logo, both simple, text-based designs; on the left, 'OracleH', and on the right, 'Project R. E. D.'. In the middle of the screen, there was an invitation to identify himself by confirming his date of birth and postcode.

Not the most useful information for a phishing attack. And the email was definitely legit.

The next screen brought up a click-through legal agreement. The button to accept wasn't immediately available, obviously waiting for him to scroll through the text as evidence that he had read it. It proved to be a relatively straightforward non-disclosure agreement. No tricky definitions, just an agreement not to tell anyone about the survey or what it contains. The only exceptions were people from the mysterious Project R. E. D., and anyone that he knew to also have access.

He blinked a bit at the provision that his information would be included in results provided to the UK government. Especially the fact that he apparently had to agree that he recognised that this sharing was something he wanted, not just accepted.

Given the email that led me here, I suppose I agree with that. Down the rabbit-hole, I guess…

Clicking accept, he was not taken to the promised survey.

— You will be able to access the survey once your associated person has accepted the project agreement.

"Well, there's an NDA, and then it tells me I can't go any further until you agree to it as well," he reported, turning his screen so Kat could see the message. "Sending you the link now."

Kat's brow wrinkled a little in consternation, but she opened her laptop and followed his lead, passing her own verification, reading the agreement and clicking through.

"It's giving me the survey", she told Rob. "A lot of stuff on health. Telling me to be as complete as possible." She ran her hand over the screen, scrolling through the first page of questions. "Hang on a moment. There's loads of stuff already here!"

Rob glanced at her screen, unable to see it in any detail, and refreshed his own browser window. It filled with a lot of boxes for medical information, and every one of them had at least something already filled in.

Narcolepsy, ADHD, vestibular neuritis… all the key points of my medical history.

"Yeah. Whoever's running this 'project', they clearly have access to our medical records." He quickly added some minor things they'd missed.

Maybe the GP didn't code the varicocele properly, and it's ended up not being caught by their filter. Probably only looking at 'current' and 'significant past', but the way the practice codes things, I'm surprised that they haven't got something random like 'gastroscopy' in there.

"I think they pulled major conditions from our GP record," he told Kat, "but it's clearly been filtered by a human to get rid of left-over nonsense that isn't actually relevant. Make sure you add anything they've missed."

"They've got everything I can think of off the top of my head," she replied. "Oh, no, wait, I suppose there's the nasal polyps. Not that they cause much of a problem."

"You saw the instructions. As 'frank and honest' as we can."

"Yeah. Okay. Well, that's done. On to the next page?"

They both clicked to move on to the next page.

* * * * *

They felt no need to comment on the surveys as they worked through the next sections. Education, work, interests. Some fairly unsubtle personality profile questions. Details of their housing. It was the final sections that drew them up short.

At first, it wasn't too bad. After all, sexual orientation is the kind of thing that a lot of surveys ask, and level of interest in sex kind of fit the health theme.

"Rob, why is it asking about polyamory?" Kat queried, her discomfort colouring her voice.

He made a puzzled, noncommittal noise in response. Kat did not find this reassuring. Nor, when she scrolled ahead and checked later pages, were the rest of the questions.

"What is axilism?" she asked.

"Something to do with armpits," Rob explained. "Given the other questions, probably something very strange to do with armpits."

"Oh."

The promise of confidentiality on the form wasn't very encouraging, either. It promised that the information would only be used 'for the operation of Project R. E. D.', before going on to explain that it may also be used for any subsequent connected work, and that it would be shared with project personnel and any others 'as strictly necessary for the purposes of' the project, and 'aforementioned connected work'.

"Is this… safe?" she asked, voice getting smaller. Rob blew out his breath before replying.

"I don't think the Judicial Office would have agreed to send it out if there were much question of that. They did seem to make a big deal about this being related to the pandemic and public service."

"Yeah." Kat was deeply uncertain, and knew it showed in her voice.

"And they said to be 'frank and honest'. Would you like to talk about the questions?"

She briefly scanned down some of the questions, and shook her head vigorously.

"Would you prefer we not be sat together when we do this?" Rob asked, seeing her discomfort. She nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

"Well, I suppose Google will be able to answer any other questions you have. I'm definitely going to have to look some of this up myself. I'll see if I can reopen this on my study computer."

Rob got up, carefully walked up to her sideways to avoid seeing her screen, and kissed the top of her head.

"If you don't think you can go through with it, that's fine. But at least this is a chance to do something. It said a small number had been selected, so if we don't, that could really limit their data. Though I still can't imagine what all of this has to do with the pandemic."

Kat shrugged, non-verbal for the moment.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." With that, Rob left the room, leaving Kat to the survey and her own churning thoughts.

* * *

Kat had no problem labelling herself as bisexual for the survey. Okay, so she'd never done much with another woman, but then she hadn't exactly done much with any men but Rob, either. She'd always felt it was just chance that her first serious relationship had been with a man, and her good fortune that it had turned out so well. This then opened up questions about what sort of women she was attracted to—age, physical features, background, attitudes, all sorts. Those weren't too hard either; there wasn't much that was a physical turn-off for her, and her preferences weren't that strong. Social attitudes and education were definitely a bigger deal.

The question about polyamory was a little more difficult for her to answer. It specifically asked how she felt about sharing a man with other women. Sharing Rob. It wasn't really a question that had ever come up, but the survey didn't allow her to say she had no idea. She hadn't thought about Rob being with anyone else; she'd not given a great deal of thought to being with anyone else herself, either. Rob and her fit. She found herself wondering how he was answering the question—assuming he had the same question—and tried very hard not to think about it.

Why do they want to know about this? There's got to be a reason. What isn't obvious here?

Interests. The previous pages were on interests, and personality. Details of their home—including beds and bedrooms. Now sexual preferences. Very, very detailed sexual preferences.

Like a dating site. Or a hookup site. Both at once. So they're matching people. Why are they matching people? And why is it only asking me what I find attractive in women?

There were plenty of possible explanations, but they all came down to one thing. Whatever was being planned in terms of pandemic response, it involved one man having sexual relations with multiple women; it seemed like they thought the woman having sex with each other would be preferable, too. And they were being quite careful about compatibility—they wanted to make sure that people were going to be able to get on, as well as having enough common sexual interests to have some fun together. They were considering stable groups of women with one man. That put the question on orientation in a whole new light, but it didn't change her answer.

Having realised the intention of this survey—even if she had trouble figuring out the full implications—she pulled her blanket further up her body and went back to the previous pages, reviewing all her answers on interests and for personality profiling. If this was actually going to be used, if someone was looking at adding other women to their marriage, Kat wanted to do everything she could to make sure that they picked people she could get on with. She added interests that she had skipped because she couldn't do them any more; at least they would give something to talk about. If there was another woman in their lives, she thought she'd enjoy watching her ride horses, even if she couldn't join in.

Her email pinged. Apparently, Rob had already finished the survey, and was going to play games on his phone until she was done. She replied to let him know she was still working through it.

Returning to the more overtly sexual questions, Kat reviewed the answers she had already given.

Maybe it's worth being a bit more picky on appearance. So long as there's enough overlap between my tastes and Rob's, that shouldn't cause much of a problem.

She tweaked a few things, aiming not to rule anything out, just hoping to nudge things a little. She did kind of have a thing for redheads.

Now for the really tough part.

It was hard to decide what answers to give, even for things she already knew about. Sure, some things the survey asked about excited her to think about, but did she actually want to do them? Still, she supposed that meant she was interested in them, and it was only honest to say so.

And, of course, there were some that were an easy yes. Not that her enjoyment of fellatio was likely to matter, given they clearly weren't looking at including any other men. As Rob's enjoyment of it was a big part of why she liked sucking cock, she supposed that going down on other women would be similarly exciting. She certainly liked the idea of it.

While she had to look some of them up, there were also some that were an easy no. Including the armpit one. She firmly believed in 'each to their own', but that was just weird.

Then there were the ones that worried her. Rob didn't know everything that turned her on. They hadn't come up, and she hadn't thought it was worth mentioning them—she was very happy with their sex life. Some she might have explored with him, but her arthritis made them impossible.

What if they match us with someone based on a kink she shares with me, not with Rob? How much will any of us know about why we matched? What will Rob think about… that?

She wouldn't even name it to herself, however much it thrilled her.

But if it turns out Rob's into it too, just we never told each other… will they let us know? Or will we get to discover it together with another woman?

The possibility was exciting. She glanced to make sure the door to the study was closed, slipped her hand into her underwear, and indulged her imagination for a while.

* * *

A little orgasm having cleared her head, she checked the time. She was relieved to see that her self-indulgence hadn't slowed her down too much. She returned to the survey, and decided to be completely honest. All the instructions said to do so, and she decided that she trusted Rob not to be too weirded out by anything, if he ever found out.

The system finally showed her a summary of her responses so far, with stark warnings about making sure it was accurate. The project accepts no responsibility, etc etc. She skimmed over it all, hesitated for a moment, then clicked 'submit'.

* * * * *

That night at dinner, seemingly from nowhere, Kat announced that they should catch up on laundry. This was not an entirely unusual suggestion; it did tend to build up a bit.

So it was that, after they'd eaten, they were in the bedroom. Kat shuffled around the room, scooping up clothes that hadn't made it to a laundry basket yet, passing armfuls to Rob as he sat on the bed. He then sorted them into piles, ready to go into separate baskets for different washes.

This was getting more unusual.

"Kat, sweetheart, are you okay?" Rob asked. "You seem a bit, well, energetic. Determined."

She looked at him intently. He was pretty good at reading people, his wife most of all, but he couldn't decipher that look. She wasn't upset with him, he could tell that much, but all he could really tell was that she was thinking—and thinking more intently than usual.

And that's saying something.

"I just feel like it's time to sweep the board clean around here," she told him. "You know, clear the decks a little." After a few minutes finishing sorting laundry, with three loads ready for the machine, she continued. "Do you have any projects going on in the study at the moment?"

He knew she meant his woodwork. He'd recently bought some more tools—and the wood for a few different projects—but hadn't started work on them yet, so he shook his head.

"Good," Kat concluded. "We can pack up your tools and materials. I mean, organise them. So they don't take up as much space."

And so Rob spent the rest of that evening in the study, sorting and putting away tools, materials, books that had been waiting to be reshelved, and anything else that Kat noticed out of place.

I don't know why she prefers it all sorted nicely—it's never long before it's in a mess again. I suppose it makes things a bit more comfortable for her as long as it lasts, and goodness knows we all need to feel in control of something right now.

His own tools were mostly organised already, otherwise he'd never have been able to find them. He was still missing an electrical screwdriver, probably put down wherever he'd last been using it and now buried under who knew what. The ones he'd last used were scattered about a bit, of course, but he knew where he was putting each of them. Kat's own craft tools and materials—threads, fabrics, sketchbooks, pencils, and so on—had been boxed up long since. On the rare occasions she got anything out, it went straight back in a box afterwards.

The next day, Rob found himself pushed, once the clothes were clean, to make sure all the spare bedding was clean, and change their bed. Kat pushed herself to clear all the detritus from the floor of their flat, and then insisted that he give the whole place a thorough vacuum while she mopped the kitchen floor.

When she tried to persuade him to clean the bathrooms as well, he near enough begged for mercy.

"Love, we can only do so much in one day," he said, "and I really need to lie down now. Assuming that the building hasn't actually started pitching around like a boat in a storm."

Her intent look softened.

"Sorry," she offered placatingly. "I just feel like we should, you know, get the place sorted. It's a long time since we've had a really good go at it."

"We've never tried to get it all done in one day. Not since, you know." He was referring, of course, to his loss of balance and the worsening of Kat's joints.

"I know." She suddenly looked tired herself, smiling wanly. "It's just… I just feel like this is something we should do. Now. Humour me?"

"I'll humour you to the end of the world. You know that. But if you don't want me to throw up, maybe I should finish doing it tomorrow?"

She laughed, and hugged him, and left him to rest.

He decided to do the bathrooms after dinner.

* * * * *

That set the tone for the following days. Laundry and dishes were cleaned, books fully categorised and shelved, CDs, DVDs and Blu-Rays were all in their own cases and neatly organised. Most importantly, to Kat's mind, their spreadsheet was fully up-to-date, so they actually knew where everything was.

Rob continued to humour her, and the floors were the clearest they'd been in months. Every spot of carpet was vacuumed—except the bits under furniture. Even Kat in this mood wasn't going to have him move all the sofas and bed to complete the job.

Both bathrooms gleamed, and every empty bottle of shampoo or shower gel was ready to be recycled. Kat had even ruthlessly sorted through the half-empty ones, disposing of those that were clearly never going to be used.

Tools and materials were put away. Kat's old crafting equipment was neatly packaged, but kept accessible. The junk scattered around the study was sorted and filtered, and a tidy pile of rubbish was made to be taken to the tip—just as soon as there was any way for them to do so. The sofa bed was cleared, with the guest bedding neatly folded in a storage box beneath it.

Every kitchen tool and gadget was clean, and put neatly away. The kitchen sides had been scoured of every mark, every sticky patch of God-knows-what. Every ingredient, every condiment, every packet of noodles was sorted, racked, and out of sight. Every strange container that had made its way to the back of the fridge and been forgotten was brought into the light, and cleaned up or thrown away as befit each item.

Kat even pushed her hands to put all the missing buttons on their clothes. When Rob noticed her eyeing up the pile of clothes needing mending, he threatened to hide her sewing kit.

The one area that wasn't so thoroughly reorganised and put to rights was their bedroom. Oh, the clothes were all away, and the floor was clean, but clothes had never been something either had particularly cared to organise. The things they wanted every day were in specific places, but everything else was crammed into drawers and wardrobes rather haphazardly. Indeed, to their chagrin, they discovered that they didn't actually have quite enough storage for their clothes and linens when they were all clean at once.

Four days after they had completed the survey, Kat pronounced herself satisfied.

Rob pronounced himself knackered, and went for a long soak in the bath.

* * * * *

12th August 2020, 10 a. m.

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The next morning, Rob found an email waiting for him from a Dr Rossi, at Project R. E. D., having arrived before he was fully awake.

"It looks like those surveys have led to something," he told Kat. "There's a message here from someone at that Project RED."

"Oh?" Kat replied, hoping Rob didn't notice her tense up. He didn't even look away from his screen.

"They want a Zoom meeting. Both of us—very clear about that. Asking us what time we'd prefer. They can do eleven, one, two, three…"

"Let's get it over with," Kat answered, unsure how much of the anticipation she felt was fear, and how much was hope.

Rob replied, and less than five minutes later his phone pinged.

"They've agreed. I've got the link. Where do we want to do it?"

Kat felt that maybe they should be a bit more presentable than they usually were when it was just the two of them around their flat, so suggested that they change, at least their top halves. She had Rob help her into a pale blue blouse, but couldn't persuade him into anything smarter than a polo shirt. She did manage to convince him to brush his hair; he always waited too long between brushings, so this was a good excuse to get him to do it.

They ended up setting up Kat's laptop at the dining table, tea at the ready, and joined the meeting a few minutes ahead of time. Shortly after 11:00, the waiting screen disappeared and they had their first look at Dr Rossi, who turned out to have well-styled, rich auburn hair, light olive skin and magazine-cover looks. She was also American.

"Hi, Robert and Katherine Brook, right?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm Rob," Kat heard him say, frozen in her seat. It was hard enough dealing with new people when she didn't have the implications of that damn survey going around her head. He looked at her, noticed her fixed expression, and continued, "this is Kat. You're Dr Rossi?"

The woman who seemed to have wandered straight from a film set nodded.

"Okay, so first of all I want to thank you for completing that survey," she began in a well-practised and inexplicably cheerful tone. "It's really important to our project, and we've been analysing all the responses we've had. We'd like to invite you to take part in our main study."

Kat was sure that her facial expression had become fixed. She just wasn't sure what it had fixed as. She saw Rob nod out of the corner of her eye, urging the other woman to continue.

"Right, before I say any more, I need to get your agreement to keep anything we discuss confidential. Is that okay?"

"Do you need us to sign something?" Rob asked.

"No, your verbal agreement will be just fine, just to confirm that you understand this is covered by your existing NDA. I'll also need to record that, and record the rest of our conversation, just in case, okay?"

"That's fine." Kat managed to nod along with her husband's statement.

"Thank you," the American woman said, making a few clicks with her mouse, before clearing her throat and settling into a more formal tone. "Do you agree to treat this conversation as confidential, and not to reveal its content to anyone outside of Project RED without express permission?"

Rob stated his agreement, then turned to Kat. She nodded, but the woman on the screen just kept looking.

"I think she needs you to say it aloud, love."

Kat mumbled something. She wasn't sure what, but it was obviously good enough, as Dr Rossi resumed her explanation.

"Okay. RED is a research project from Veraxiontic, a pharmaceutical company. I'm a biotechnologist, part of a research group working with them. We're working on products that will hopefully bring us through the pandemic. Some of what we've found might be really helpful for people who are, like, living with long-term medical conditions, and that's what our little project is all about. If you agree to take part, we're hoping that you'll help us learn more about the pandemic virus. We're hoping it will also help with any chronic conditions you're already living with; we expect it'll do some good to at least some of them. How does that sound?"

Kat was sure there was something odd about the way this woman was talking about the virus, something different, but she was too frozen to quite make it out. The fact she sounded unreasonably chirpy wasn't helping.

"Well," said Rob, "that sounds bloody wonderful. Too good to be true, you might say."

"I completely get you. I've been as surprised as anyone at the results of our work. But there's not much more I can tell you now. We're just kinda getting potential study participants together with our team in a few days, and we'd like to invite you to come along and learn more."

"What about lockdown?"

"Our project has approval from the British government. We'll be following strict biosecurity procedures for sure."

California. She sounds like she's from California.

Kat tried to focus on her actual words.

"And what's the catch?"

"Well, that is kinda complicated. I've gotta be level with you, there's more than one. Most of them you'll be told about at the meeting. The one I can tell you about now is that you might be away from home for a while."

"How long?"

"If you decide not to stick around, just a couple of days. If you sign up, at least two weeks, maybe longer."

Kat suddenly found her voice. There were practical implications to this.

"How much longer?" she asked, all at once sounding confident, challenging the imprecision of the information.

"Weeeeell, that's kinda hard to say. It's not that I'm not allowed to tell you, it's just that we sorta don't know."

"You can't expect people to commit to something that vague." Kat surprised herself a little at how curt she sounded.

"Like, the thing is, we don't know exactly what's going to happen," she explained, smooth veneer starting to show a little stress. "That's why it's a trial. We'd be asking you to stay at the project site until the study is complete, and if things go well that could be months."

"Months?! How can we pack for months?" Kat noticed Rob's attention on her, but with all the uncertainty around her, this was a question she could get to grips with.

"Oh, we'd suggest you just pack for a week or two," she assured them, seemingly regaining her composure all at once, as if the conversation were now back where she'd expected it to be. "If it ends up being a long stay, we can send people to your place and pick things up for you, or we will be happy to provide some things that you need. I should also mention that you will be compensated for your time, and if things work out the way we expect, you'll be much better off physically."

Kat was not entirely reassured, but the drive for answers seemed to have left her.

I'm sure there's more I need to know. Still, I guess we can work things out later.

"Thank you, doctor," Rob cut in. "I think it might be best if we signed off for a minute to talk about this. Will you stay on the line?"

"Of course! I'll be right here, you just come back when you're ready."

Rob nodded at the camera, and left the meeting.

* * * * *

"So," began Rob, turning to his wife, "what do you think?"

"I think we need to know how they plan to handle prescriptions," she replied, clearly still focused on the logistics of the proposition. "And laundry. And what are people supposed to do about any fresh food they have?" Her arms waved towards various parts of the flat as she listed her questions, gesticulations far more animated than typical for her.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down." He put an arm around her shoulder, rubbing her upper arm reassuringly. "We can thrash that out with them, but we need to think about the basic question first. Are we interested in this enough to go find out more?"

Kat's movements slowed, her expression turning inwards.

"What do you think?" she asked.

I can't let her just defer to me on this decision. If she's feeling a bit overloaded with this—and I'd bet anything that she is—she'll be trying to avoid deciding anything herself. I'm not sure she even knows that she's doing it.

"No, no, I want to know what you think first. I don't want you going along with whatever I think on something this important."

"I don't know." Kat paused before continuing, taking slow sips of her tea. "It's a bit vague, but it seemed like she was saying this could help us get back towards a normal life. Not just the pandemic—that would be helping everyone, which is a good thing as well—but affecting, you know," she waved one hand down her own body, the other down Rob's.

"And?"

Give me a lead, here, Kat… you know I tend to go feet first into anything interesting. I need you to make sure I look before I leap.

"Well," she blew out her breath, "it's bloody tempting."

"Isn't it just?"

"And we're not committing to anything by going to the meeting."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Well, I still want to know how things are supposed to work if we're there for long. But if you're tempted, and I'm tempted, I say go for it." She nodded her head decisively.

* * *

Back in the meeting, Dr Rossi was attempting to answer Kat's barrage of questions. Rob was glad he wasn't in her shoes. She certainly wasn't smiling any more.

"You'll get an honorarium for the initial meeting," she explained. "I don't have the figures on hand, but I'm sure it will cover the cost of any perishable food, so I think your best bet is to throw them away—unless you'd rather bring them in a cooler or something."

"Will the accommodation be accessible?" Kat continued her barrage. "I mean suitable for us—adapted bathrooms and everything. And where will we be staying anyway?"

"Yes, we're making sure everything's, like, appropriate for each study participant. All the participants need some adjustments for disability. And I can't tell you exactly where it is, but it's a holiday park in Northern England. If you're coming to the meeting, I'll send you an information pack."

"How much can we bring with us? How are we going to get there? What should we do with things we might want later?"

"That's all in the information pack. Please, can I just…" the American brought herself up short, schooling her exasperation back into an attempt at her original smile. Instead she looked, to Rob's eyes, like she was working in an American coffee shop and her shift had been dragging on too long. "How about I send you the information pack, and you can email me if you have any more questions?"

I have to admire her self-control there. She almost managed to sound cheerful again.

Kat's determined expression grew considering.

"Okay," she told the harried scientist. "How long do we have to pack?"

"We'll have someone there to pick you up on the 11th. Probably around ten or eleven in the morning, depending on who else signs up and traffic and stuff."

"That's less than two days! You do know my hands don't work and Rob will be sick if he moves around too much, right?"

"Like I said, you only need to pack for a week or two, and we can bring more out to you when you want them. I'll have someone bring boxes and tags straight over tomorrow so you can sort out things you might want later."

Kat paused again, looking stern. Dr Rossi just looked like she wanted to get off the call.

"Okay. Send us both the information pack, though." She rattled off her email address, repeating it more slowly when Dr Rossi all but begged her to slow down.

"Thank you, doctor," Rob cut in. "I think you've told us enough. We'll be waiting for that lift to wherever we're going."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, looking exhausted and sounding even more like she was working in a coffee shop. Rob wondered if she'd ever had such a job. "Have a nice day, and I look forward to meeting you in person."

Dr Rossi cut the connection herself, this time.

* * * * *

Kat was struggling to deal with how quickly the situation kept changing.

It wasn't too bad breaking our routine with the tidying; that's something we've done before, and anyway it needed doing if someone was going to be coming here. Now it turns out we're leaving, and we'll have to pack, and I just want to curl up and get back to normal.

Sadly, it was clear that that wasn't going to happen. She knew Rob wanted to do this, at least to find out what was going on. She shared his frustration at not being able to do anything with any impact, but she knew he felt it much more acutely.

She resolved to squash her feelings as much as she could, for Rob's sake, and distracted herself by poring over the PDF that Dr Rossi had sent.

"The place looks a bit like the one my brother and his family went on holiday the other year," she observed. "You remember, he sent us pictures."

"Yeah, I remember we thought we'd like to go somewhere like that, but we could never afford it. Not quite the same place, though. I wonder…"

Rob worked at his computer as Kat read on.

"Now that's weird," he said, hands returning to his lap. "Absolutely nothing on reverse image searches. Nothing specific, anyway. Just places all over the world that look somewhat similar. Most of them are in mainland Europe."

Kat nodded. She wasn't sure how it might work technically, but if they were keeping the location secret, they wouldn't provide images that would lead anyone to the right place.

"Chalets," she noted. "Well, they call them lots of different things for the different types, but they're chalets really. Most of them are pretty accessible, and they have plenty that are adapted in different ways."

It's an attractive prospect, in some ways. It would be lovely to see something other than this flat and the views from the windows. I've been stuck here for months. The park looks lovely, but there'll be other people there. I'm out of practice at 'other people'. I know I can find things attractive and scary at the same time, but it's still confusing. How can I feel so much like I want to go, and still feel like I want to stay right here?

"You'll like this", she continued. "Self-catering, 'fully equipped kitchens', which is a description I'm sure you'd take issue with."

Rob laughed. He was very fond of cooking, and liked to use whatever gadgets he could persuade Kat to let him buy.

And it's only gotten worse since he binged Masterchef Australia once lockdown started. Well, that's not fair. The food got better.

"We'd better work out some packing lists," she continued. "You'll need to type." He looked at her quizzically. "We need to work out what we're going to pack for them to bring down later. These are going to be long lists, and you know my hands won't stand up to that."

"Okay," Rob replied, opening their shared online lists. "I'm ready to take dictation," he affirmed, wiggling his fingers over the keyboard.

Of course, it wasn't really strictly dictation. Some things were subject to discussion, but they both knew that it was her job to think of the important things. Rob would think of plenty of them, but his list-making tended to be a bit haphazard.

"Clothes, obviously," Kat began. "We can work out the details later, but start with underwear for two weeks. And we should probably bring some bedding, we don't know what theirs will be like. If it were a couple of nights then we could live with whatever, but if it's longer we'll want what we're comfortable with. It could be months, and with the state of the world we can't rely on being able to get anything new."

The state of our finances, too.

"So, we're packing absolutely everything we might want over the next few months." Rob nodded. "We'd better triage that."

"In terms of things to have them bring up soon, you'll want at least one of your computers. If we're there long, I'll want my desktop as well—that has my programming projects on. Do you think we should pack up our books? I'll let you decide about your woodworking tools…"

After they had covered the most obvious things they'd want with them, or brought along soon, Rob called a halt for lunch. Kat grudgingly agreed, provided that he would keep typing up the list while they ate.

Three rounds of sandwiches and two hours later, they had initial lists for things they would bring with them, and things they would box or tag when the supplies arrived. In the end, almost everything except large furniture was on one of the various lists. Rob went to start sorting things in the study into piles while Kat went for a nap. It took her longer than usual to doze off, her thoughts busy.

More women… how many more? I don't think more than three people could live comfortably in our flat. Are we ever going to be coming back?

* * *

When Kat awoke, she found Rob in the study, surrounded by semi-organised piles of books, tools, materials, keepsakes, and vintage gaming consoles.

Gaming consoles had not been high on their lists.

She said nothing, waiting for Rob to notice her presence. He carried on digging through boxes of games and parts for his console collection. After a couple of minutes, she cleared her throat. Then she tried again, louder.

"Got distracted, did we?" she asked, trying to make it lighthearted. She had no idea if she succeeded.

Rob startled, guiltily.

"I just thought, I mean they aren't a priority—"

"Just put them all in one pile, or box, or whatever, and we can think about it later. How are you getting on with the rest?"

"I've been trying to get the books prioritised. Your egyptology stuff is in this pile," he said, indicating one of several piles that were neatly stacked. He continued, gesturing at each in turn, "Here's my cookery stuff—I split the cookbooks from the more theoretical stuff. And here's the programming books you were using to teach yourself, and your sewing and dress history stuff. Apart from that, I was checking the spreadsheet for ones that we don't have on Kindle, and then which of those we're more likely to want to read, but I wasn't sure."

Kat looked over the piles he indicated. There were three of them; one, reasonably sized, was clearly books that Rob wanted to have available. A much smaller pile looked like what he thought she would want available. The much larger pile was clearly the ones he hadn't thought to put in either of the others.

"So, I'll have a look through and add more to my pile," she said. "It looks like you've got most of the rest reasonably sorted—it can wait for tomorrow. You go to the kitchen and make a priority list for your gadgets, then do dinner. We can discuss the kitchen list after we've eaten. Then you can start on the DVDs."

* * * * *

13th August 2020, around 8 a. m.

------

Rob came to awareness, in a distinct change to the usual pattern, with neither Kat in the room nor any water being involved. What woke him instead was the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices in the flat.

Blearily, he pulled himself out of bed and looked out into the main area of the flat. Two hazmat suits were piling collapsed boxes, rolls of packing tape, and packs of cardboard-and-string tags in the living room.

"Right, luv, think that'll do ye?" one of the hazmat suits asked Kat. She confirmed that yes, she thought that would be enough now, thank you very much, and the hazmat suits filed out of the flat.

Rob stood there blinking until he decided that he was probably awake. There were people in the suits, most likely.

Kat was looking over the supplies that had been delivered, but shortly noticed Rob lingering at the edge of the room, leaning on the wall.

"You're awake," she noted with excitement. Or was it just nervous energy? She paused, looking at him more closely. "You are awake, aren't you?"

"I don't know," he half mumbled. "Were there people in hazmat suits in here a minute ago?"

"Yes, they were delivering the boxes and things that Dr Rossi promised. The lads that delivered them were just explaining that we should colour-code the boxes, put tags on anything that wants to be moved as-is, and make a note of what we used each colour for. Then they can come back later and get one or two colours at a time."

"Colours?"

Rob was having a little trouble following things.

"Sit down, I'll get you some tea and your meds, and we'll talk about it once you can remember the start of a sentence when I get to the end of it."

She had to repeat the 'sit down' part, but he caught on eventually.

* * *

Kat got as far as feeding Rob something resembling breakfast—chocolate certainly being food, if an unconventional start to the day—before he felt entirely with it.

"Now, we can both see the packing lists on our phones," she explained once she was reasonably sure Rob was taking it in. "I've been through it, putting things in sections with what colour they should be labelled. You go start on the study, box things up, put colour labels on them. Don't tape them up until I've checked them, or after lunch. We don't want you getting things wrong because you're still not completely with it. I'll sort out packing the clothes we need to take with us, and boxing up others we might want. I'll probably want you to come vacuum seal some of them later."

Rob duly followed orders, noticing with a smile that his vintage consoles had been moved to the second wave list, rather than the 'eventually' list.

They each worked at their tasks. Every time Rob passed the bedroom, he saw a different pile of clothes and linens on the bed, things disappearing into cases, rucksacks, and storage bags. At least his screwdriver had turned up when he was sorting out kitchen gadgets; that was something. He was lying down for a rest on the sofa in the study when he heard Kat call from the bedroom.

"Hey, love, could you come help me with something?"

He heaved himself up, balance almost back to its usual mildly-wobbly state, and ambled through to the bedroom. Expecting to be sealing and vacuuming some storage bags, he was surprised to see the bed clear.

"Kat?" he asked, unsure what was going on.

"Back here," she replied, behind the open door of a wardrobe.

Rob closed the door, heart suddenly hammering as he saw his wife, wearing quite, quite different clothes than last time he saw her.

She adjusted the set of her burgundy beret as she looked him up and down, giggling as she saw his obvious arousal. She had put on a stretch-waist black miniskirt she hadn't worn in years, with a strapless off-the-shoulder white top and a carmine satin choker with a crimson heart-shaped paste stone hanging from it. She'd even found some apple-red lipstick. He winced inwardly at the thought of how difficult the choker catch must have been, but did his best not to let it reach his face.

I think my heart might stop. God, she knows how to push my buttons when she wants to.

"I stumbled onto the choker," she explained, "and realised I hadn't, hmm, indulged you for a while. Then I thought it might be nice to indulge one another for a bit. You know, it could be a long time before we see this bed again. Maybe we should give it a farewell."

He growled and swept her up in his arms. Her face by his ear, she whispered, "I also took some extra painkillers about an hour ago. I think we can spread my legs a bit more than usual."

He took great pleasure in taking advantage of this, and spent long enough with his head between her legs, her skirt bunched around her hips, to bring her off twice. After the second orgasm, she pushed him away, then drew his face up hers, kissing him passionately, excited by the taste of herself on his lips. He ran a finger along the edge of her choker and slid his hands under her top, gently tugging on her nipples.

"You are going to fuck me," she breathed into his ear, "and then I'm going to get my lipstick all smeared on your cock, and you can come wherever you like. We can always run another load of laundry."

He was more than happy to oblige her, pulling her to the edge of the bed and pushing his trousers and underwear down, leaning against the bed to step out of them. Bracing his legs on the side of the bed for balance, he slid his length along her wetness, as usual more than sufficient after he'd had a chance to pleasure her properly. This drew sharp breaths from her; he grasped her legs, pulling her toward him as he thrust, and she moaned wantonly as he sank into her to the hilt.

"Oh, yes," she groaned, "that's it, fuck me. This is what I want. This is always what I want. Your cock fucking filling me, you gorgeous bastard. Oh, shit…" she trailed off, mumbling incoherently.

Rob judged his wife's reactions, pacing his strokes to hold off his own release, varying his speed or force occasionally and prompting more outpourings of nonsense from Kat. Her eyes were closed now, her lips moving almost continuously but very little sound escaping them. Attention on her breathing, he chose his moment carefully, and lowered one hand to her pussy, rubbing her clit with light, swift strokes, and her back arched up from the bed as she cried out, her orgasm cresting.

He slowed his strokes, ready to pull out, as she collapsed back to the bed. Anyone who didn't know her so intimately might have thought she was asleep, but he watched her chest rise and fall, knowing she wasn't done yet.

Presently, her head lifted from the bed, and he withdrew. The beret was now askew, threatening to fall off completely. The glaze of her eyes cleared; she smiled wickedly at him as she regained her focus.

"Get up here," she said, firmly, sitting up and straightening her hat. "I meant what I said, and there's still one thing left on my agenda." Rob climbed onto the bed, and Kat pushed him onto his back. He scrambled backwards to rest against the headboard, and she mantled over his cock like a hawk over its kill, a possessive gleam in her eyes as they locked onto his, her lips enclosing him. Now it was his turn to groan, the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, the pressure of her lips sliding back and forth, tongue swirling around the head before she drove back down, until he felt himself brush her throat.

Moving that fast, she's going to feel this tomorrow, should I really—oh, fuck!

His thoughts grew incoherent as her hand stroked his balls and she tried to swallow him deep, the pressure of her throat rippling around him as she breathed hard through her nose. She lifted her head, her hand taking the place of her mouth; she couldn't grip properly, but could still stroke, and his pleasure simmered, near to the brink.

"Well, lover, I said you could come wherever you want. What's it to be?"

Growling, he reached out to her, put his arms under hers and pulled her up the bed. Seeing his intentions, she put a leg either side of him, and sank onto his cock. Holding her tight, he rolled on top of her, thrusting frantically now, as she hummed in pleasure and satisfaction. He kissed along her neck, nibbled her ear, letting himself focus almost entirely on the sensations of his own body.

"You drive me fucking crazy, and I know you know that," he murmured into her ear. "I'm yours, and you're mine, and you drive me fucking crazy."

"Show me just how good I make you feel," she whispered back, "let me see how I make you feel. Come for me, love, show me how we belong together. Fill me."

He groaned, thrusting deep into her and releasing. His orgasm washed over him in waves, and he felt his mouth move with no idea what words came out. The moment stretched, seeming like an hour yet somehow still fleeting. He collapsed to the side, sliding off Kat and blinking at the sparkles that still seemed to be rippling behind his eyes.

* * *

Kat lifted his arm, wrapping it around herself and curling up against him. She felt his breathing slow, and felt a glow inside. Not just the ebbing feelings of her own pleasure, she felt the warmth of having made him feel so good.

After a few minutes, she moved to look him in the face.

"Hey," she said, grinning.

"Huh? Did we sort out the walrus?"

An extra thrill ran through her. It wasn't often she managed to break his brain like that.

"Come on," she said, getting up and pulling on his arm. "We should get cleaned up. Then we need to finish packing."