Chucklers (Book 1): Laughter is Contagious

by Jeff Brackett

  “Like I have a choice?” Charlie was getting tired of the constant criticism, but Dad had always been like that. And even a nagging partner was better than having to face the nightmare of this cruise alone.

  Well, you’re running in the wrong direction, dumb fuck. You’re supposed to be going downstairs.

  “Yeah. Well, why don’t you tell that to the kids chasing me? Maybe they’ll stand aside while I go past.”

  The noise below him sounded frighteningly close as he clambered up the stairs as quickly as he could. The flashing red LEDs was really not enough to make quick progress a possibility, and he had to concentrate on making sure his feet planted properly on each step. He had become very familiar with the stairwells since this nightmare had begun. There were fifteen steps between decks. He had it memorized, and this simple fact led to a process. Down eight steps, grab the handrail, jump and swing one hundred eighty degrees around the landing to the lower seven steps. Those last seven steps put him on the lower landing, just to the left of the exit. He had done it so many times over the last two days that the routine was instinctive by now—eight steps, turn, seven steps, door. This let him concentrate less on his surroundings, and more on where he placed his feet. It was like running on autopilot, and he was able to speed through the emergency stairs much faster that way.

  But the very routine that had saved him time before, was nearly his undoing this time. Eight steps, turn, seven steps, door. Lather, rinse, repeat. But that was the routine for going down the stairwell.

  So when his foot hit empty air, rather than an eighth step, he staggered for a second. It only took a second for him to realize his mistake, but it shook him.

  Autopilot off. If he’d had time, he would have taken a minute to gather his shaken confidence, but the shouts, laughter, and clambering footsteps behind him gave him no chance to regroup. He turned around the landing and scrambled up the next seven, no eight, steps to the deck above.

  His foot tripped on the edge of the eighth step and he fell to his knees. Scrambling on hands and knees, he moved to the door on the right. But the door wasn’t there. And the raucous sounds of pursuit drew closer. Charlie climbed quickly to his feet and spun in the darkness. The red emergency light blinked again and he saw stairs before him.

  No time to think about it. He headed up as quickly as he could, repeating his mantra under his breath. “Eight steps, turn—”

  No, you’re going up now, stupid.

  The old man was right. “Seven steps, turn. Then eight steps, door.”

  Only the door won’t be on your right if you’re going up, will it?

  “That’s right. It should be right in front of me at the top of the stairs.”

  That’s my boy!

  Charlie grunted at his father’s praise. There was once a day when he would have reveled in it. Now it simply irritated him. His foot reached the seventh step, and he gripped the handrail tightly, used his momentum to maintain his speed as he pivoted on the landing just as the red light blinked back on, and confirmed his process. And still the sounds of his pursuers grew louder.

  “…five, six, seven, landing.”

  Sure enough, there was the door, right in front of him. He shoved his way out of the stairwell. The sign outside the door confirmed his dad’s words. He was back up on Deck Twelve. “Shit.”

  He ran across the causeway from the starboard stairwell, past the open staircase, over to the port side of the ship. He ran into the shadowy corridors on the opposite side from where he had been earlier. He had no sooner turned the corner out of sight when he heard the stairwell door slam open, and footsteps pounding up the main stairway. He stopped around the corner, peeking back the way he had come. Four teens exited the stairwell he had just been in, and half a dozen more ran up the main stairwell, whooping and hollering. A bang on the wall around the corner from where he was watching reminded him that there was a second emergency stairwell, and he was hiding right behind it.

  Charlie tore down the shadowy corridor as quickly as he could, stumbling on occasion over barely seen obstacles. At one point, he fell over something soft and rubbery. He looked back and saw an arm on the blood-soaked carpet. The rest of the body was nowhere to be seen.

  Charlie choked back the bile and scrambled to his feet. Peering back down the corridor seemed to show that he had lost his pursuers, but he couldn’t afford to take that for granted. He moved on up the hallway. His pace was like that of an elderly speed walker doing laps at the mall, but any faster and he would be running blind in and out of inky shadows.

  And through it all, the laugh track played.

  Ahead, the corridor opened into one of the wide public areas of the ship that offered restaurants, bars, or entertainment venues. It also offered a swath of bright sunlight from the open atrium above. Charlie hesitated at the edge of the sunlight. Moving forward would immediately expose him to anyone watching from the shadows.

  He spent several minutes frozen in place, watching the shadowy places between doorways for movement. Was there someone there, watching the shadows as he was, waiting for their prey to expose themselves? The longer he waited, the more nervous be grew, convincing himself as each moment passed that movement on his part would be tantamount to suicide.

  Was that a hand on the wall near the bar across the causeway? He peered intently at the shadow on the wall, watching for it to move.

  Dammit, you little pussy! Shit or get off the pot, for fuck’s sake.

  Whether or not he liked how Dad said it, the old man had a point. Standing around waiting on something to happen wasn’t going to accomplish anything. So where to?

  He saw a sign across the hall. Library. Yeah, that should do. He sprinted across the brightly lit open area and pushed into the darkened room. “Oh, shit.”

  His illusions of hiding among the books were dashed the moment he entered the room. Where he had imagined racks upon racks of tomes, the dim red light in the ceiling revealed the library of the Bahama Queen to be a relatively small study area with bookcases around the walls. It’s only furnishings were a dozen or so chairs, and a large table in the center. He turned to leave just as a scream sounded outside the door. He backed away and looked around the darkened room. The emergency light left most of the area in shadow, but there was an especially inky black space that seemed to blend into the far wall. Hoping for an office or other alcove, he quietly trotted across the carpeted floor of the library. Deeper in the darkness, he found another exit and opened it. His path was beginning to get pretty confusing, and he had some misgivings about getting any farther away from the stairwell, but a banging on the door at the other end of the library pushed those doubts aside. Charlie slipped out the back exit, easing the door closed behind him.

  Through the gloom, he saw the faint reflection of another frosted glass doorway about fifty feet ahead. Looking left, then right, Charlie crept across the open intersection to the doors, hoping for someplace to hide. Slipping quietly through the doors, he shook his head. “I think I might be spending too much time in bars,” he thought. The remains of a large mirror hung precariously behind the bar, a huge, reflective jigsaw of deadly shards. Stepping forward, Charlie felt something crunch beneath his shoes and saw that the carpet was covered with bits of glass. Broken bottles and mirror bits interspersed with slicks of various liquids that made his footing uncertain.

  When he saw the bodies, he almost turned and ran. The blinking red light illuminated the sight, making it all the more macabre. Only the sounds of laughter and screaming out in the halls kept him moving through the dark room. He slid his feet forward, trying to move as quietly as possible, minimizing the crunch of glass as much as possible, though the idea of anyone being able to hear it over the litany of curses, laughter, and screams outside was almost ridiculous.

  He crept through the darkness, looking for the exit that he knew had to be there, but his eyes kept flicking back to the bodies on the floor. Edging around a pool of blood that spread from the open mouth of a dead brune
tte, Charlie concentrated on getting out of the room as quickly as possible. His back to the bar, he stepped carefully over the dark stain and just as he set his foot, a hand snaked around his mouth and firmly shut off the scream that tried to erupt from his throat. A second hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him off his feet into the darkness behind the bar.

  Chapter 30

  Linton Bowers

  Is Your Understudy Any Good?

  It had taken several hours to make all the arrangements, but he wasn't too concerned. Michelle was in San Francisco, so her day was a few hours behind him. That, plus the late hours she put in when she was on the road, and he knew she wouldn't be awake until almost noon. That gave him time to call in to work sick, get back home and hit several internet travel sites. The holidays made his quest for a ticket nearly impossible. Nearly, but not quite. The gods were with him, and he was able to find a seat.

  He made the call. "Hi, baby. How's the show going?"

  "It's okay, I guess. Wish I was back there with you, though."

  "Funny you should say that."

  "Why? Something wrong?"

  "I'm afraid so. Is your understudy any good?"

  "Yeah, she's really good, actually. So what's going on? You're starting to worry me."

  "I think you need to get home right away."

  "What's wrong, Lint? Is someone hurt?"

  This was where things could go badly. "Sorry, baby, but it's your dad. He's taken a turn for the worse. They don't know if he's going to make it through the night." Linton held his breath, hoping Michelle wouldn't give it away.

  After a short pause, she replied cautiously. "Is it really going to happen that quickly?"

  "There's no way to know for sure, but it looks like it's going to be really soon, and I don't want you halfway across the country when he goes."

  Michelle sighed. "I'll see how quick I can get a flight back. This close to Thanksgiving, it's liable to—"

  "I've already got one for you. There's an e-ticket in your name in your mailbox. Your flight leaves at 4:20, with a connecting flight in Phoenix. You get into Hobby Airport at 11:30."

  She paused. "Lint, what's going on?"

  "You need to get home as quick as you can."

  "But—"

  "Sorry, baby. I have to go. Just promise me you'll make that flight?"

  A heavy sigh told him she was getting irritated. "Sure. I promise."

  "Thanks. I'll pick you up at the airport." As he hung up, Linton exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

  Chapter 31

  Gus

  Connection

  Laughter. Frustration. Confusion.

  But always laughter. Gus had almost caught up to the big man. He giggled at the memory of the man’s face as he had seen Gus. The big man recognized him. If only Gus could just get him to laugh, he would know how much fun they could have together. He had tried to let the man know as he had chanted at the cabin door. He’d waited for the man to get the joke. Waited for him to respond with “not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.”

  It would have been hilarious! The big man would have laughed, and perhaps he would have hurt Gus again. It could be agonizingly wonderful, that pleasure/pain. They would have been close again.

  No, that wasn’t right. They weren’t close before. So they couldn’t be close again.

  But they would be close like he had been close to his father. Gus shook his head, confused again.

  But it didn’t matter. There was a connection between him and the big man, Gus knew that. He would find him again.

  Chapter 32

  Charles Griffe

  I Think It’s the Slick

  Charlie thrashed about, kicking and pulling ineffectively at the hand over his mouth. His heart pounded, and all he could hear was his own muffled shrieking. He inhaled the scent of… peanuts? And he blew snot from his nose as all the air from his screams was rerouted to his nostrils. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. This is it. I’m gonna die. Some little fucker is gonna rip my throat out and I’m gonna…

  “Shhh. Come on, buddy. Would you please shut the hell up?”

  The words finally filtered through, and Charlie realized that whoever held him from behind was trying to get him quiet. More importantly, though, the owner of that disembodied voice wasn’t trying to kill him. He calmed himself, and stopped his screaming.

  “That’s better. If I take my hand away, can you keep quiet?”

  Eyes still wide in fear, Charlie nevertheless nodded. The hands eased off of his mouth and shoulder, releasing him, and Charlie scrambled away from the hidden stranger. He jumped from behind the bar, and spun to try and get a look at the man who had grabbed him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, grabbing me like that?” he shouted.

  “Shhh,” he hissed. “Keep it quiet, buddy! You want to attract those things in here?”

  Charlie had to squint to make out the faint silhouette of the man hidden in the darkness. “And how do I know you aren’t one of them?” He’d seen too much insanity tonight to trust a stranger, and he kept edging away from the other man.

  The man shook his head in the darkness. “I’m not laughing.”

  The apparent non-sequitur took Charlie by surprise. It tickled his brain a bit, seeming almost to make sense, but he didn’t have time to think it through. He had to get away from everyone. He had to get to safety. But the laughter reference tugged at him. “Laughing?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Haven’t you noticed? All the crazies are the ones that are laughing.”

  Charlie backed slowly away. “Yeah, well, I think you might be a little crazy yourself.” The back of his thigh brushed against a table behind him and he edged sideways toward the other doorway.

  “Think about it. Have you seen anyone that’s gone nuts that isn’t laughing?”

  It was true. “No.” He stopped moving for the moment, willing to let the man explain.

  “I think it’s the slick.”

  The slick? All right. He’d had his chance. Charlie began backing away again. The man might not be laughing, but neither was he making any sense. What the hell was the slick? “Yeah, well, I think you’re probably right. But I really need to go, so good to meet you and all that, but I think I’m gonna—”

  The man stood and held up his hands. “Wait a sec. I know how it sounds, but it’s true.”

  “Okay. But I really need to go.”

  The man stepped forward and Charlie panicked. “Keep away from me!”

  He froze and held up his hands. “Shh! Keep your voice down! You want them to—”

  But they already had. The doors back at the entrance where Charlie had come in flew open, and three laughing men squinted into the shadows at Charlie and his anonymous companion. One of the crazies, as the man had called them, pointed at Charlie and giggled with glee. Charlie didn’t wait. He ran to the door behind him and slammed it open, the other man right behind him.

  “This way,” the man shoved Charlie to the right, and without any better ideas, Charlie didn’t fight him.

  They ran a few yards and came to one of the wide, open staircases that flowed from one deck to the next. Bright sunlight lit their way, and Charlie got his first good look at the man. About a head shorter than Charlie, the man wore black slacks and a white shirt with some kind of emblem on the lapel. He pulled past Charlie and led him at a sprint down the open staircase to Deck Eleven. Charlie struggled not to stumble as they flew down the stairs. The commotion was drawing more attention, though, and more laughter sounded from the shadows around them.

  Charlie and his new companion ran into the shadows of the corridor between the port side cabins. Is it port? I’m too mixed up now, can’t tell where I am. Charlie heard more laughter from the staircase behind, and saw the three men who had chased them out of the bar coming down the stairs. The man shoved Charlie around another corner, and they plunged back into shadow. Almost as soon as they rounded the corner, the man stopped in front of a cabin door.
Nearly falling over his companion, Charlie hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

  But the man simply inserted a card into the lock on the door, and pushed through. Charlie followed and they closed the door behind them. Pressing their ears to the door, they listened as the laughter approached, and when it paused outside, Charlie held his breath.

  “Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh…” The incessant litany sounded less like laughter, and more like a small, engine, idling in park and waiting for someone to kick it into gear. After only a few seconds, the sound moved away from the door, gradually diminishing into the background noise of cackling and screams that occasionally sounded throughout the ship.

  Charlie sighed with relief and then glanced at his companion. Light from the balcony let him see that the man was staring intently at him, as if wondering if he had made a mistake. It began to piss Charlie off. “What?”

  He’s wondering if you’re worth the trouble you caused him.

  “Shut up!” Charlie hissed at his father without thinking. He backed away from the other man, eyes narrowed, unsure of what to expect from him, but the man made no move, as if aware that Charlie was on the verge of panic.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he said.

  “No, I…” Charlie had to ignore his father. Things were getting confusing. “Sorry, I must have heard a scream outside.” He shook his head. “All the damn screaming and laughing. The whole damn place has gone insane.”

  He waited to see if the man would accept his excuse. His eyes narrowed for a moment, watching Charlie quietly. Charlie stared back. He could see him more clearly now, and he absently glanced across the room to see bright sunlight filtering through the curtains at the balcony. He turned back and saw the other man’s eyes still on him.

  Man’s gonna try to stare you down, see if you’ll punk out first.

  Charlie clenched his jaw, determined to ignore his father this time, and backed to the middle of the room. They stood that way, simply staring at one another for a second, each assessing the other. The white shirt Charlie had noticed earlier bore epaulettes on the shoulder, and Charlie recognized it as a uniform. He guessed the man was with the cruise line.