The Fomite

By Becca

Captain Hank Stanley and his crew had taken their customary Saturday-night seats in the TV room of Station 51. "I love this show," Chet Kelly gushed as he pulled his chair a little closer to the television. "That Archie Bunker is one funny guy!"

Roy and Johnny exchanged exasperated looks. Neither of them shared Chet's opinion, but they knew this was the one show that they couldn't escape watching when Chet was on duty.

Johnny wasn't paying much attention to the TV anyway. He had been battling a bad sore throat since morning and felt even worse as the day wore on. Hoping no one would notice, he reached a hand up to his neck and pressed on his glands. Swollen and tender. He sighed.

"Be right back," he said to no one in particular, heading toward the locker room. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin from his locker, popped two tablets in his mouth, and cupped some water in his hand at the bathroom sink. He swallowed painfully.

Walking back into the kitchen, Johnny decided that some warm liquid might soothe his raw throat. He reached for his favorite cup, a dark blue mug given to him by a girlfriend, and placed a tea bag in it. After adding the water he had boiled on the stove, Johnny stirred a teaspoon of honey into the brew. His grandmother had always told him that honey was good for a sore throat. Cupping the steaming beverage in his hands, he settled back down on the dayroom couch.

Gage nursed the cup of tea for the better part of the next hour,grateful for the way it eased his pain, if only temporarily. Nevertheless, those first-day-of-the-flu aches had settled into his joints, he felt feverish and longed to hit the sack. Hoping for a quiet night, he set the blue mug on the coffee table, said a simple, "Good night, everyone," and headed to his bunk.

An hour or so later, Roy glanced at his watch. It wasn't that late, but he was feeling drowsy just the same and decided to turn in as well. As he stood, he spotted Johnny's mug still on the coffee table. He picked it up and deposited it on the kitchen counter on his way to the bunk room.

The other crewmembers retired for the evening one by one. Chet stopped to have a glass of milk before going to bed, but as he reached for a cup he accidentally knocked Gage's mug on its side. "Geez, Gage," Chet grumbled to himself, wiping up a small puddle of tea with his fingers. "Let me help you," offered Marco. He picked up the blue mug and placed it in the sink, depositing the used tea bag in the trash.

Mike passed through the kitchen next. He happened to spot Johnny's mug still in the sink, along with Chet's glass and a few utensils. He grabbed the mug and glass between his fingers and turned on the hot water. Swishing the dirty items with a soapy sponge, he set them in the dish rack to dry. "'Night, Cap," he said, as Hank Stanley walked toward the bunkroom. Mike followed behind him a few minutes
later, shutting off the kitchen light as he headed to bed.

Throughout the following week, every member of the Station 51 crew logged at least one sick day with the same symptoms Johnny had – except for Cap, who didn't know exactly who to thank for his good fortune.

Without realizing it, he was the only one who never touched Johnny's mug.

The End

Note: In nursing school I learned the definition of the medical term "fomite": a physical object that serves to transmit an infectious disease from one person to another. I thought it might be fun to try and use it as the basis for a story.