Chucklers: Laughter is Contagious

by Jeff Brackett

  She shook her head in disbelief, and looked up to see that Bill was staring at her also. Staring, and laughing as he yelled, “Not gonna bother you no more, Nell.” Then he started singing, “…no more, no more, no more, no more.” With herculean strength, he slung the screaming Francis up into the air like a gardener using a hoe, then slung him down face first into the concrete. Francis stopped screaming as Bill continued to sing to Nell. “Hit the road, Jack! And don’t you come back no more, no more…” The big wrestler slung the now limp Francis back and then forward this time shattering the plate glass window in the front. The glass flew across the floor of the lobby, and Bill flung Francis into the room after it.

  Nell screamed. Francis was a broken bundle of bones and skin leaking blood from hundreds of tiny cuts. His eyes stared at her, completely devoid of life. It was horrible, a terrible sight to behold.

  So why did she suddenly find herself laughing?

  * * *

  Suzanne Sargent began to giggle as she pulled into the parking lot. That crazy DJ always made her laugh. Tonight though, she couldn’t seem to stop. Eyes widening as she began to realize something was wrong, Suzanne was suddenly furious at herself for not being able to stop. Then she was furious at the first thing she saw ahead of her: the telephone pole at the end of her street.

  She pushed on the gas, accelerating her car over the curb, and into the pole. She laughed outright at the airbag that suddenly deployed in her face, shoving her head violently back into the headrest. There was a sudden pain in her arms, and she glanced down to find that the ultra-fast deployment mechanism had whipped open the steering column airbag cover at such velocity that it had scraped streaks of skin off her forearms, leaving small rivulets of blood running down to her arms. She laughed at the wonderful pain in her arms and neck.

  Electrical wires fell from the pole, whipping around like writhing snakes as they sent sparks into the air.

  And all the while, Suzanne kept her foot on the gas pedal. Though the car wasn’t moving, the engine was still rattling on. Smoke began to pour from beneath the hood, soon followed by the flicker of a small engine fire. She laughed as she watched the fire spread, even when it began coming through the dash in front of her. Minutes later, the exquisite agony of flames licking at her legs sent Suzanne’s screeching laughter to a new volume. It never stopped until her lungs quit functioning.

  * * *

  Morgan Powell cursed as another alarm went off. “Damn it! Georgie, we have another transformer out. That’s seventeen in the last hour. Can you check the grid on twenty-seven, four thirty-one? I’m afraid we’re getting close to another overload.”

  There was definitely something strange going on this evening, and she regretted switching shifts with Lanie. The power grid all over the Houston area was taking hits. She debated calling her supervisor. It would be just her luck that they end up with a major outage, and he would have her ass if that happened without her giving him a head’s up. Then again, he’d have her ass if she called him after hours, and it turned out to be nothing at all.

  No, the best course of action at the moment would just be to get more info.

  “Georgie, did you hear me?”

  Behind her, Georgie began giggling.

  * * *

  All over the continent, a tipping point had been reached. It was the same tipping point that had already been passed in Africa and Europe, as well as the few inhabited bases in Antarctica. It was infiltrating Asia and South America. The only place on the planet that was not yet overrun was the island continent of Australia, and the relief down under was destined to be but a brief respite. All over the world, people who were perfectly normal only moments before, suddenly erupted into laughter. That laughter was immediately followed by drunken, insane, violence. It was only a matter of timing that determined whether they found things funny and began to laugh, or were horrified at the actions of those who were laughing.

  There was only one place that was immune to the plague decimating the world.

  * * *

  “Houston, this is ISS.”

  SILENCE

  “Mission Control, this is ISS. Come in Mission Control.”

  SILENCE

  “Huntsville Mission Control, we seem to have lost contact with Houston. Can you confirm communications malfunction?”

  SILENCE

  “Huntsville, please come in.”

  SILENCE

  “Would someone please come in? This is International Space Station, calling on open frequencies. Is anyone there?”

  SILENCE

  Chapter 58

  Linton Bowers

  Smokey Joe’s Barbeque

  Linton turned to his wife. “Let’s hope that’s the worst of it. Just be prepared if it’s not.” He sped up a bit as they continued down the freeway. Streetlights showed wrecks all over the road, but so far, he had managed to weave the truck through them with little more than a few scratches. The real problem wasn’t the wrecks. It was the crazies wandering around on foot.

  The first of them had shown up as he wove past the first pair of wrecked vehicles. The truck had just cleared the wreckage when two men charged it as they passed. Michelle screamed, and Linton jumped. But he was going fast enough that the men simply bounced off the truck and fell to the pavement. Looking in his rearview mirror, Linton saw them staggering back to their feet.

  “Shit!” Michelle was breathing heavily in her mask. “They just jumped at us like they thought they could grab the truck. They’re…” She shook her head.

  “Insane? Crazy?” Linton finished.

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  They got past the worst of the plane wreckage within a few minutes, but the maze of wrecked vehicles spread up the freeway as far as they could see. It inhibited their speed, and Linton was in constant fear of boarders. That was the way he had come to think of the running people who kept leaping at the truck. So far, none had managed to get aboard, but it was apparent that this was their goal.

  “This is taking too long,” Emmet said. “We left the house hours ago, and we aren’t any closer to the bunker than we were when we started.” He tapped his mask. “At this rate, we won’t have enough filters to get there.”

  “Once we get out of town, things should move faster.” Linton tried to reassure his friend, but the truth of the matter was that he had been thinking the same thing.

  He swerved to the left as another crazy ran at them. He completely missed them, and Linton watched in the mirror as the man loped after them.

  “Look out!”

  Michelle’s scream drew his attention back to the road, and he swerved hard to the right as what looked like a wall of people ran at them from ahead. Before he could decide what to do, they were swarming over the truck. Linton had a moment of panic as he realized that moving forward, or for that matter, any direction, would now entail him running someone down.

  Michelle screamed as one of them slammed his head into the window on her side of the truck. Wide-eyed and bleeding, the man giggled and slapped the palm of his hand against the window, leering maniacally at Michelle through the glass.

  Emmet shouted from the back seat, “Let’s go, Lint. Get us out of here!”

  Still, Linton hesitated. Another impact on Michelle’s window shook him out of it. Us or them. He hit the gas, sickened as several people in front of the truck fell before them, and he felt the bumps as he moved forward. He refused to look in his mirror this time as the truck moved through the crowd.

  Emmet pointed to the right. “Exit ramp!”

  Linton floored it and made it to the ramp before anyone could get into the bed of the truck. As they made it back to the feeder, he finally let himself look in the mirror. Dozens of people still ran after him, running down the exit ramp in their vain attempt to catch the truck. Ahead, the lights of a business complex illuminated another crowd of people running toward them.

  “Where the hell are they all coming from?”

  Linton didn’t bother trying to
answer. He accelerated, trying to get past the crowd ahead before they got the chance to block his way. It was going to be a close thing, but he thought he could make it.

  He was wrong. It was close, and there was only one of them that got to the truck, but that one maniac didn’t bother trying to grab the side of the truck. He threw himself completely in front of it. Michelle screamed, and Linton tried to avoid hitting the man, but he was already hugging the curb in his attempt to avoid the crowd. The truck popped over the curb just as the front bumper mowed the man down.

  The next thing Linton realized, his side mirror was gone and his window shattered. There was a wall where his window had been, and he dazedly recognized it as the side barrier to the freeway. His ears were ringing, but he vaguely heard Michelle sobbing. He could also hear the engine of the truck. It didn’t sound right. There was a loud clattering that told him that he had a serious problem. He looked over at his wife and saw that her airbag had deployed. He looked back to see that Emmet lay unmoving in the back seat. No airbag back there. He realized with a start that he couldn’t raise his hands, looked down and saw his own airbag deflating.

  Michelle was screaming something at him. His head swam as he turned it to look at her again and he fought to focus. He looked past her and his blood ran cold. The crowd was almost on them. He shoved the airbag out of the way and hit the gas. The truck squealed its protest, but pulled forward with a loping gait. Steering was damn near impossible, and he could tell he had a flat tire at the very least. He didn’t care, though. All that mattered was getting some distance between the truck and the crowd chasing after it. He could worry about the truck after they were clear.

  There was a small restaurant about a quarter of a mile ahead. Linton stroked the steering wheel. “Come on baby, just a little bit farther.”

  Smoke began to billow from beneath the hood. “Michelle? You okay, baby?”

  She had stopped her sobbing when he had started moving. “Y-yes.”

  “Good. Emmet?”

  There was a groan from the back seat. “Still in one piece. At least, I think so.”

  Linton sighed in relief. “All right. See that barbeque shack up ahead? I’m going to pull on the other side of it, and you two get out and get inside.”

  “What about you?” Michelle protested.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you. I just have to keep the truck moving past you before I get out.” Flames began to flicker under the hood now. “The truck’s had it, and chances are that it’s going to attract every laughing son of a bitch in the immediate area. I have to make sure it’s going to keep rolling past where we’re going to hide. As soon as I get you guys out, I’m going to give it some gas and send it down the road.”

  Michelle began to protest again.

  “Honey, we don’t have time to discuss it. Grab your gear and get ready to jump!”

  She looked at the flames now pouring out from the engine. Linton swerved into the restaurant parking lot and around to the other side of it. As soon as they were out of sight from the crowd, he slowed and shouted at them, “Go!”

  They grabbed their bags and weapons and jumped out, not bothering to close their doors. Linton swerved, aimed the truck back at the feeder road and hit the gas. As soon as the truck was going in the right direction, he shoved his own door open, tossed out his gear, and rolled out. The impact was harder than it looked in the movies, and he fought to reorient. Through shifting vision, he saw his gear bag in the parking lot a few feet away and crawled toward it. He heard footsteps running toward him, and struggled to pull his pistol from its holster.

  “No need for that, brother. Let’s get you inside.”

  Emmet’s voice angered him, even as it reassured him. He was supposed to be inside with Michelle. “Why are you—?”

  “Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” He pulled Linton to his feet. “We’ll talk about it inside. Now let’s get out of sight before that crowd gets here and your brilliant plan to distract them is wasted.”

  Together, the two of them ran toward the barbeque shack, where Michelle and another woman held a door open for them. They got inside and had the door closed several seconds before the crowd came past the building. The truck loped to a stop on its damaged tires about a block up the road, flames now shooting several feet into the air. Linton sighed as he watched the fire began consuming the pickup.

  “All those supplies,” he groaned as he slid to the floor.

  Michelle knelt beside him. “And we’re still alive.”

  He looked at her. “Yeah, I guess we… your mask! Where’s your mask?”

  She shrugged. “Lost it when we jumped. Besides, it looks like we might not really need them.”

  “What?”

  She waved her hand, motioning to someone else in the darkened interior. “This is Lesslie. She’s been here this morning. No mask, but she doesn’t seem to be infected any more than we are.”

  The small woman wore a greasy apron with a Smokey Joe’s BBQ logo on it. She approached slowly, and Linton noted that her left cheek and eye were bruised and swollen, and she held a large knife in one hand.

  “Lesslie, this is my husband, Linton.”

  Lesslie nodded. “Lesslie Lamphere. Pleased to… ah hell.” She shook her head and turned away. She pulled a chair up from the nearest table and quietly lit a cigarette as she sat down.

  Linton understood. Normal pleasantries didn’t seem right. He looked again at his wife. No mask. He sighed, then pulled his mask off, too.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  He shrugged. “You’re my wife. We’re in it together.”

  She swallowed, and he saw a tear form before she knuckled it away. She cleared her throat and continued as if nothing had happened. “Lesslie works here. She saw us jump from the truck and let us in.”

  The end of Leslie’s cigarette flared as she inhaled. “First people I seen tonight that wasn’t laughin’ and tryin’ to smash something. Figured it might be a good idea to have some help with all this…” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the back door.

  Linton nodded. “Well, thanks for letting us in.”

  She jabbed her cigarette at their weapons. “Somethin’ tells me you would have gotten in anyway. I just saved my door from some damage, is all.”

  Linton saw Emmet peeking through the blinds. He got back to his feet and went to join him. Looking over his friend’s shoulder, he watched as the flames spread into the cab of his truck, and the mob danced and laughed around it. “Damn. That was a good truck.”

  Emmet let the blinds fall back into place. “I’m more pissed about all the supplies in the bed.” He turned to face Linton and his eyes narrowed as he noticed his friend was no longer wearing his mask.

  Linton shrugged. “Michelle lost hers.” As if that explained everything.

  And evidently it did, for Emmet simply nodded. “You won’t be offended if I keep mine on, will you?”

  “Nope.”

  “And since you won’t be using yours, you mind if I get your filters, too?”

  It would have been funny under other circumstances. But Linton didn’t think he would feel like laughing again anytime in the near future. Instead, he just sighed. “Take ‘em. At least one of us should stay protected.”

  “Thanks.”

  Silently, the two of them continued to watch the insanity outside.

  Chapter 59

  Ross Mayfield

  Dynamic Duo, Kung Fu Style

  Ross waited nearly two hours, and it felt infinitely longer. It was two hours filled with hooting laughter, gunshots, and screams. It was also plenty of time to work on his meditation, since his stress levels were being tested as never before. But by the time Alex knocked on his door, Ross had a good handle on himself, body and mind.

  He opened the door to find Alex standing there in obvious distress. “Sifu? What’s wrong?” Realizing how inappropriate that opening was, he backtracked. “Sorry, I know what’s wrong. I just mea
n—”

  Alex pushed past him, not even looking at him. “Shut the door.”

  Ross did, and locked it for good measure. Alex dropped a light backpack onto the sofa and went into the kitchen. Ross followed as his friend and teacher helped himself to the refrigerator. “Got anything to drink?”

  “Just what you see there.”

  Alex turned to him with a wild look in his eye. “Seriously? All you keep is water?”

  “I usually eat out.”

  “Yeah, well that’s probably not a good idea tonight.” He grabbed a water bottle and closed the fridge. He walked to Ross’s couch and sank into it. As he did, Ross noticed several things about Alex’s appearance. He saw the bloody scratches on the back of his neck, others on his wrist, just beneath the cuff of his jacket. That drew his attention to the jacket itself.

  “I didn’t know you had a carry permit.”

  Alex looked from Ross down to where his coat had sagged open to reveal the firearm. “Yeah.” He tugged his lapel to hide the pistol again. “That’s sorta the idea, right? Concealed carry? Emphasis on concealed.” He took another swallow from his water, and Ross saw how badly his hands were shaking.

  More laughter from outside caught Ross’s attention. He walked to the window and looked out. A dozen or more students ran through the night, illuminated as they frolicked from one lamp post to the next. The group laughed as they went into the dorm across the quad from him. Approaching the door, one of them snatched a rock up from the ground and flung it through a window on the second floor.

  “What’s wrong with them?” He turned to find Alex unzipping his backpack. “It can’t be gas, or we’d be affected, too.”