Chucklers: Laughter is Contagious
Page 39
“Yeah.” The man stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Matt.” He pointed to each of the others. “That’s Erica, Linton, and Michelle.”
Charlie slipped the knife into his belt, then shook the Matt’s hand. “Charlie. And thanks for that. I’ve had about as much of this shit as I can stand.”
Chapter 83
August Grappin
Eastward
The first impact of the lifeboat threw Gus off the upper deck and into the air. There was a thrill of terror as he flew, followed by a brief, exquisite pain when his head hit the wooden deck of the cigar boat. Then all went black.
A loud noise brought him back to consciousness, a crack like sharp thunder, followed seconds later by another. Fuzzy memory told him he once knew what that sound was, but now it was nothing more than a noise on which to focus. As he began to gather himself, he noted with passing interest that he lay in darkness, in water that smelled of gasoline and rotten fish. And the water seemed to be getting steadily deeper. He tried to get up, but found himself trapped between the deck of the boat below, and a structure of wood and Styrofoam above. There was barely enough room to crawl on his hands and knees.
He heard voices in the distance, speaking of things that didn’t matter. What was important was the familiar tenor of one of the voices. It was the big man—the giver of pleasure and pain.
Gus scrambled to find a way out of his prison, and saw bright light streaming through the wreckage behind him. He crawled through the flotsam and water toward the light and began frantically clawing his way out. It took only a few minutes, but when he finally broke free, there was no longer anyone in sight. Waterlogged, he clambered up to the remains of the wooden dock above him and followed it up to dry land. One of his companions from the ship lay dead in the grass between the dock and a beach house, and Gus tittered as he ran past the corpse with barely a glance.
He rounded the corner of the house just as the big man got in the back of a bright yellow vehicle, closing the door behind him. Another man got in the front and they drove away even as Gus raced toward them. Chuckling through his raw throat, he came to a stop, watching as the yellow SUV carried the focus of his attention down the street, turning right when it reached the main road. Flashes of yellow through the bushes showed the direction they took as the man and his new friends left Gus behind.
There was disappointment at having missed the man again, but he was determined that this was only a temporary setback. Still laughing, he trotted up to the end of the street, turned right, and watched the rapidly disappearing speck of yellow in the distance.
He would find Big Man. He had no idea how long it would take. In truth, his concept of time had become fuzzy, so it really didn’t matter. But they moved away from the setting sun and Gus was determined to follow. After all, they had to stop sometime. And wouldn’t it be funny if he managed to catch up to them in the middle of the night? Wouldn’t it be hilarious?
The laughing teen with purple hair began to jog eastward.
SATURDAY
NOVEMBER 26
Epilogue
An excerpt from Presidential Proclamation 9437
…a national emergency exists by reason of the recent pandemic of unknown origins. The illness, currently called Kampala Syndrome, is believed to be responsible for the recent rioting and communications blackout in Uganda. Recent outbreaks in major cities in the United States indicate that the illness has spread to our shores, and constitutes a continuing and immediate threat of further attacks on the United States.
Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me as President of these United States of America, and by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, I hereby declare that the Union is in a state of national emergency, and pursuant to the National Emergencies Act (50 U.S.C. 1601 et seq.), I intend to utilize the following statutes: sections 123, 123a, 527, 2201(c), 12006, and 12302 of title 10, United States Code, and sections 331, 359, and 367 of title 14, United States Code.
This proclamation immediately shall be published in the Federal Register or disseminated through the Emergency Federal Register, and transmitted to the Congress.
This proclamation is not intended to create any right or benefit, substantive or procedural, enforceable at law by a party against the United States, its agencies, its officers, or any person.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-sixth day of November…
Here ends Chucklers: Laughter is Contagious, Book 1 of the Chucklers saga.
Jeff Brackett is the author of "Half Past Midnight", "The Road to Rejas", and "Streets of Payne", as well as a variety of short stories and novellas published in magazines and anthologies. After having lived almost his entire life in and around Houston, 2014 presented several life changes that brought him, his wife, and two dogs (Bella and Cricket) to Claremore, Oklahoma. There, they found a nice little house with a much larger yard, and are all adjusting to the new lifestyle quite well. Jeff has even begun learning to garden.
His writing has won Honorable Mention in the action / adventure category of the "Golden Triangle Unpublished Writer's Contest", first place in the novel category of the "Bay Area Writers League Manuscript Competition", and was a finalist in the science fiction / fantasy / horror category of the "Houston Writer's Conference" manuscript contest.
His proudest achievement, though, is in having fooled his wife into marrying him more than thirty years ago, and helping her to raise three wonderful children. He is now a grandfather twice over.
And his gardening? Well, let's just say he still has a bit to learn in that area.
You can follow Jeff's blog and sign up for notification of his latest publications at http://jlbrackett.com
Author's Notes –
Much of what I would normally write into the Author's Notes actually went into the dedication for this book. But that little "What he said…" after the dedication really needs a bit of explanation.
You see, when the first draft of this story was complete, I sent it to Edward Lorn (if you've read the dedication, you already know why). He got back to me shortly after, asking if he could write an introduction for it. Well, I'm nobody's fool, so of course I took him up on the offer.
But after edits were winding down, I still hadn't received anything from him. I was going to let it go, thinking he'd gotten busy with one of his other projects, but as fate would have it, Ed called me on another matter just before I finished edits. I mentioned I was about ready to turn the manuscript back in and tentatively brought up the subject of the intro.
The conversation went something like this…
Me: Hey! You gonna do that intro or what?
Ed: Sure. But you were supposed to send me your dedication so we don't end up repeating each other.
Me: Oops. I'll send it right away.
So I did. We finished our conversation and hung up. Later, he hit me up in a chat window online. (We do a lot of "chatting".)
Me: So, are you okay with the dedication?
Ed: Yeah, but now I got nothing to add.
Wait! Actually, add this right at the end…
"What he said." —Edward Lorn, 2016
Seriously, do that. End your section with, "Now for a few words from Edward Lorn." Then add, "What he said."
I don't care who you are, that's some funny shit right there!
So there you have it. A brief insight into the deep musings and inner workings of a couple of modern day authors. How's that for disappointing? We're just like everyone else.
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