When Elliot was a small child, he once contracted the stomach flu. Nothing quite equaled the misery he experienced in those weeks, living on the bathroom floor and ejecting his stomach every few hours, while his body ached and shook with constant pain. When it finally ended, he never imagined he would experience anything so horrible again.

And he was right, until that 'cold.'

Elliot couldn't say exactly what happened the next few days; sometimes he was awake, other times he slept. When he did wake, it was rarely to do more than toss and turn in Ruby's bed, drenched in sweat and shivering with cold he knew wasn't real. Sometimes he made it to the bathroom and drank something from the sink. Other times, he took whatever liquid was within reach and drained it, hoping it would help.

He thought about calling Ruby and asking for a trip to urgent care, since he couldn't trust himself to drive. But with a flu, was there anything she could do? Other than getting her sick too, and disrupting her final exams.

He sent a few texts whenever he was awake, simple things. "Still sick, hope your tests are going good!" Just enough so she knew he was thinking of her. Then he would curl back up, and go back to being miserable for another few hours.

Then came the first morning in a long time where Elliot didn't hurt. He saw sunlight streaming in through the window, and knew it must be early. But after how many days?

He stretched, sitting up without aches or shivers. Beneath him, Ruby's sheets were completely destroyed; covered with dry liquid, some of which had the brown look of blood. Yet the pain was gone now, except for a desperate hunger in his gut, days of appetite all crashing down on him at once.

Wonder what's left in the kitchen. He shifted atop the bed, ignoring the brief sense of disorientation that came with the motion. Was Ruby's room bigger than he remembered? No, obviously. He was just being paranoid. Who wouldn't feel a little on-edge after reading that notebook?

He reached the edge, then swung his legs out under him, and stood.

There was a brief drop before his feet found the ground, one that definitely shouldn't have happened. Sure, Ruby had to hop up, thanks to the storage blocks she had to give her room under the mattress. But he was too tall!

I'm just disoriented, that's all. I'll feel better once I get some food.

Sam wouldn't want to see him in a slime-covered t-shirt and boxers, and he wasn't particularly excited to smell himself this way any longer than he had to. So he shed it onto the floor, searching for where he'd hung his robe.

There, in a pile near the door! He must've put it on to use the bathroom at some point during his delirious fugue, and not remembered. It would work for right now.

Elliot brushed at his face, pushing something light away from his eyes. Apparently his bangs had decided to grow out just a little too far while he was out, too. More money for a haircut he didn't need to spend.

The robe was a little stiff and a little dirty, but better than the alternative. He shrugged it on with all the attention he had used to get undressed, and tied it off over his chest.

As best he could, anyway. The robe didn't fit as well as he remembered, trailing almost to the floor and requiring him to tuck it under itself almost all the way around to get it closed. Even then, it shifted when he moved, threatening to slip off his shoulders.

Doesn't have to last. Just long enough to make some eggs and get some oatmeal.

He shuffled out into the hall and found the lights on in the apartment beyond. The shower was running on Sam's side, with steam seeping out the hole in the bottom of the door. Good, he could be in and out before she noticed.

He reached the kitchen in a few moments, and found it more or less how he remembered. No fresh meals were in the sink, or bags of trash. Evidently he wasn't the only one who hadn't felt like eating. I should make something for Sam too. She's gonna feel as shitty as I do.

He made it to the fridge, and tugged the door open. There wasn't much, beyond the staples. Scrambled eggs it is.

He went to work with that simple task, draining what was left of the milk while he worked.

Everything felt subtly off while he worked, though he couldn't say exactly how. The floor was too slippery, the ceiling a little too high, the counters longer than he remembered. His arms smacked into things. He almost fell over at one point, knocking over his bowl of eggs and milk.

But he muddled through, focused on the tantalizing reward of hot food waiting at the end. He'd never be Ruby's equal in a kitchen, or skilled enough to take kitchen shifts at the diner. But he wasn't going to go hungry, either.

So it was he was finally eating when Sam came through the door, and slumped into the table opposite him, with far greater weight than Elliot might've expected. "You make any... extra?"

Sam had sounded bad before, but now; she didn't just sound raspy. More like a teenage boy, who had just dropped an octave but wasn't very confident in the sound of his own voice. How was she making it that deep?

Elliot nodded, looking up from his plate to pass the large tray of scrambled eggs towards the other side. Then he saw Sam, and his mouth hung open.

His roommate wore an oversized hoodie in nondescript grey, covered with various splotches of oil and other stains. She had the hood pulled all the way over her head, but that didn't cover the feathery strands of vivid yellow and black hair, somehow both emerging from the roots.

Violet eyes looked back from the hood, from a face that was sharper and more angular than it had any right to be. "Not a damn word, Elliot. Don't think I don't see you too."

Whatever he'd been about to say died in his throat. He swallowed nervously, then pushed the tray closer to Sam. He tried, anyway; his arms didn't reach quite as far as he would've liked.

"Hungry?" He might've said more, except--his voice was wrong too.

Not raspy or hoarse or aching, his throat felt fine. The problem was that he too was completely off, a register higher than he remembered. He flushed, running one nervous hand through his hair.

He brushed the hood of his robe away from his hair, following the strands with his fingers. It wasn't just his bangs, his hair now went all the way to his shoulders.

"Pass the ketchup, blue. And check the freezer, I should have some frozen breakfast sausages. Nuke those while you're up there."

Elliot stood to obey, retrieving the ketchup from the fridge. He set it down next to Samantha, eyes lingering on the yellow and black hair emerging from within. "What happened?"

No mistaking that voice this time; higher than Sam's used to be. A lot like his little sister's, though there was still something of the familiar left in that. "You think I'm supposed to know? I fix cars, Elliot. Maybe your girlfriend can tell us."

Elliot did what Sam asked, tossing the remaining sausages onto a paper towel to heat in the microwave. Then he smelled them, and he took a few steps towards the table. Good thing he had already eaten, because he suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore.

"What about the news?" Elliot asked. Something moved behind him, another strange sensation against the fabric of the robe. More he would try not to think about. "Is there anything--"

Sam waved her fork vaguely in his direction. "I dunno about you, but I spent the last few days not sure if I was gonna wake up. I wasn't watching the news. If you were, I'd love for you to fill me in."

Elliot took another few steps back, towards the bathroom. "Guess that's fair, I didn't either. Maybe Ruby messaged me. I'll check."

Sam shrugged, shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth. That didn't stop her from talking anyway. "Whatever, blue. Or... guess it's more of a cerulean. You know what I mean."

He didn't go to the phone first; no matter how crazy things might be outside this apartment, he needed to get himself taken care of first. He clicked the bathroom door closed behind him, then let the robe slip off his shoulders.

It was not a reflection Elliot had ever seen before, or ever wanted to see. Bright blue eyes stared back at him instead of hazel, and a body that looked nothing like he remembered.

His shoulders were narrow, lean muscle on his chest replaced with swelling that he'd never seen on himself before. The same story was repeated elsewhere, with muscles now hidden by smooth skin.

It could've been worse; he was still male technically, though even that seemed out of place compared to everything else.

He had a tail too, growing in the same blue-green as his long hair, falling from just above his legs in strands tangled and matted with sweat.

There was a similar story on his forehead, where something about as long as his thumb protruded from his forehead--a twisted, spiraling bone, easy to miss with messy bangs. But it was still there, ready to stab into his hand if he smacked it too hard.

There was nothing like this in the notebook. He told himself, while hot water blasted him from the showerhead. It wasn't like this. They were so small!

Once cleaned and fed, Elliot felt much better; almost healthy. All that remained was the subtle buzzing in his body that came of illness. But just because he could breathe clearly and didn't feel like collapsing didn't mean things were good. "This has to be connected," he told his blurry reflection, twenty minutes later. "Somehow."

Had the investigators lied to him? Someone died so fast it happened during a car ride? But if they weren't thinking about others, how had they missed his illness?

Elliot had a million questions, and no easy answers. Maybe I should just go to a hospital, see if they can help me.

He went straight into his and Ruby's room. His phone was on the ground next to the bed, long run out of battery. He plugged it in, and dressed while it powered on, tugging on some sweatpants and a hoodie. He had to roll the feet up a little so they wouldn't drag, and tie the waist extra tight, but at least they stayed on.

His underwear were a lost cause, and he wasn't going to do anything about the irritation on his chest. He had more important problems now.

Like the blaring his phone made as soon as it switched on, loud enough that his ears rang. There were no words of course, but a message waited for him as soon as he got the phone in his fingers.

THIS IS NOT A TEST EMERGENCY ALERT CDC/COLORADO DEPT OF PUBLIC HEALTH

CIVIL AUTHORITY HAS ISSUED SHELTER-IN-PLACE WARNING FOR AURORA CO AND SURROUNDING AREAS EFFECTIVE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

• HAZARDOUS DISEASE OUTBREAK REPORTED IN YOUR AREA
• REMAIN INDOORS AND AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH OTHERS
• DO NOT ATTEMPT TO LEAVE THE AFFECTED AREA
• CHECKPOINTS ESTABLISHED ON ALL MAJOR ROADS
• EMERGENCY PERSONNEL ARE RESPONDING
• MAINTAIN ACCESS TO COMMUNICATIONS

MONITOR LOCAL MEDIA AND OFFICIAL CHANNELS

TEXT "AURORA" to ###### FOR UPDATES

STANDBY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

The phone's typical service logo was missing, replaced with SOS on the top of his screen.

But that didn't stop the messages he had already received.

There was a long string from Ruby, expressing frustration and worry over his lack of response. According to the timestamp, the last message he had received was from the night before, at a little before midnight.

"This is awful. Please... help. Don't want to be here. Come get me."

He tried to send a reply, but the message refused to send. Though with service down, that made perfect sense. Of course it wouldn't go through!

He glanced out at the window, peering through the blinds. There were no cars on the road past the apartment, when he would've expected the typical morning traffic into town. The apartment's parking lot had most spots empty, though that was also typical for a work day.

He picked up the little tracking device he'd been given, removing it from the floor. At some point in his fugue state, he'd managed to get it plugged in, so at least he had that going for him. He tucked it into his pocket, then went back to his phone.

Elliot had to decide what to do.

1. Risk a trip to campus to rescue Ruby. If I'm infected, she is too. I have to get her out now!
2. Wait for dark, then try to make the trip then. If I'm going to risk getting arrested, better to do it when I can avoid getting caught. And I would have some more time to figure out what's happening.
3. Obey the order and try to make contact some other way. If the internet is working, I could try to reach her or her friends online.

Author's Note

And that's another chapter done! This one's poll: https://poll.horse/VNYRmPRm

I wanted to put this chapter up last week, but unfortunately my family got evacuated in the California wildfires, cutting into my writing time significantly. But everyone is back home safe, so things are back to normal. Just a scare, everything's fine for us. So the words go on!