Chucklers (Book 1): Laughter is Contagious

by Jeff Brackett

He climbed to the first landing and turned to face the first doorway. Still nothing. He looked back to where the rest of the group nervously gripped knives. They watched him, waiting for him to give direction. Still silent, he waved them up and moved to the next floor.

  They took it slowly, quietly, taking nearly ten minutes to climb two floors. Then Charlie rounded the landing to face the door to Deck Four and saw something he hadn’t seen before. The top of the stairs was blocked by a door. It wasn’t across the landing as they were for every other floor. This one blocked access to the landing itself.

  What the fuck?

  Then he saw the card slot beside the door. Pulling Chris’s key from his pocket, he slid it into the slot. There was a beep followed by a click as the door unlocked, and Charlie pulled it open. The landing beyond was still empty. He held the door open and waved everyone up. As they passed him, he let the door close quietly. The sign on it read NO ENTRANCE — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  He turned and found everyone waiting for him. Taking ownership of the key had evidently advanced him to de facto leader of the group. He moved back to the front of the group, squeezing Felicia’s hand as he passed. Tabby waited at the head of the stairs and nodded silently at him. Her expression was still somewhat reserved, but he couldn’t tell if it was distrust or the tension of the situation.

  He crept around the next landing and approached Deck Five. Somewhere far above, a door banged against the metal wall and faint footsteps sounded. Charlie almost panicked and bolted through the door before him, but listening to the sound for a moment told him it was too far away for whoever it was to know he was there. He turned to the others and put a finger to his lips. Everyone froze. A few moments later, another door opened, and the sounds left the stairwell.

  Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and moved forward once more. After only a few more minutes, the group stood in front of the door to Deck Six.

  Charlie kept his voice to a whisper. “Everybody ready?”

  Nervous nods confirmed.

  “Wait here for a minute. I’ll see if we’re clear.”

  Felicia grabbed his arm, clinging desperately to it. “How long?”

  “Just a few… make it five minutes. I’ll be back in five minutes, all right, baby?”

  She nodded, but he had to gently pry her fingers off his arm. “I’ll be right back.”

  He pulled the door open slowly, peering through the small opening until he could see the coast was clear. As quietly as he could, he slipped through and closed the door silently behind him. Immediately across the corridor to the right was the entrance to the Stardust Theater. The doors were closed, and Charlie hoped they would stay that way. He turned right and crept to the corner of the theater. Peeking around the corner, he checked up and down the starboard corridor, for movement. When he was convinced no one was coming, he slipped quickly up the corridor toward the front exit. He heard a dull pounding coming from up the corridor. He licked his lips nervously and kept going. This close to the front of the ship, the corridor curved around so that he wasn’t able to see straight out through to the jogging track, though he saw the light of the doors.

  He also saw moving shadows. He pressed his back against the wall and froze, ready to run at the slightest indication that anyone was coming through those doors. After several heartbeats that pounded so hard he was convinced anyone nearby would hear them, he crept forward. As he got closer to the door, the heavy bass beat of a techno soundtrack was obvious. That was what he had heard. Swallowing hard, he inched his head out to where he could see through the door.

  His attention was torn between two items of importance before him. First, he saw a huge crowd of what appeared to be several hundred cavorting crazies staggering drunkenly about in a huge, open-air fitness area. There were all sorts of weight machines, treadmills, stationary bicycles, and other fitness equipment. And of course, the jogging track ran right through the middle of it.

  And all over the open deck, the crazies cavorted about, grinning, flailing about, and shoving one another as they danced to that heavy bass beat.

  You ain’t getting through there, boy. Not in one piece anyway.

  Charlie growled and slapped his fist against his forehead. “Dammit, old man, you need to shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

  As he was about to duck back out of sight, he caught sight of the second item of import. Past the horde of crazies, past the rail and the ocean beyond, he could clearly see land. The ship was headed through a break in the coastline, still under the guidance of Chris’s programmed course on the bridge.

  They were running out of time.

  * * *

  Charlie spotted movement back down the corridor as he trotted back to the stairwell. His hand went to his knife, then relaxed as he recognized Tabby. “What are you doing out here?” he hissed at her.

  “Checking on you. You said five minutes. It’s been almost ten.”

  He hadn’t realized how long he’d taken. “Sorry. I ran into a problem.”

  “Bad?”

  He shrugged. “Might be. I don’t really know how it’s going to affect us yet. There are hundreds of the crazies blocking our way through the forward exit.”

  “Crap. Now what?”

  “Let’s get back to the others. I have an idea.”

  They were back in just a moment, and Felicia moved to him and pushed her head into his chest.

  Clingy little thing, ain’t she?

  Charlie ignored his dad.

  “What’s the story?” Merl asked.

  “They’re all over the jogging track. There’s no way to get through.”

  Celina began her irritating prayer mumbles. “Oh, stop it, Celina,” Charlie snapped. “It’s just a minor hiccup. I have an idea. We’re going to have to go up one more deck.”

  “What’s up there?” Merl asked.

  Charlie pulled the key to his and Felicia’s cabin out of his back pocket. “My cabin.”

  Chapter 76

  Ross Mayfield

  Prophetic Words

  They had spent Thanksgiving night resting up. Alex was exhausted from his ordeal at home, both physically and emotionally. He wouldn’t talk about it, and Ross figured it wouldn’t do either of them any good to rehash whatever had happened, so he left it alone. Ross’s own sleep schedule was still screwed up from the drugs he’d taken the day before. All in all, they decided that it made more sense to rest and plan while they had a relatively safe place like his dorm room.

  So when they awoke on Friday, they spent the morning packing anything of value into a couple of gear bags. They spent the rest of the morning perusing the internet for more information. There really wasn’t anything new, and the social media sites became as much a source of information as any other place. Within hours though, the sharing of knowledge devolved into frantic and repetitious of pleas for help.

  Around noon, Alex stood from the desk chair beside Ross, rubbing his face. “This is getting depressing as hell.”

  Ross had to agree. “So how about I start making good on my promise?”

  “What promise?”

  “You wanted me to teach you some of the meditation techniques I use. This is liable to be the last free time we have for something like that. At least for the foreseeable future.”

  Alex shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He settled onto his knees and closed his eyes.

  “Sifu? What are you doing?”

  Opening his eyes, Alex cocked an eyebrow at Ross. “Getting ready to meditate.”

  Ross squatted on his haunches beside him. “Sifu, if you want me to teach you, then you have to accept it when I tell you that you have to throw some of your traditional stuff out the window.

  “You have to be able to maintain a calm state of mind no matter what’s going on around you. I don’t get the luxury of dropping to the floor and closing my eyes every time something distracts me.”

  Alex nodded. “All right. In this, you’re the teacher, not me.” He stood back up. “So what should
I do?”

  “You’re familiar with the breathing techniques, and the muscle relaxation and mental state you work for when you meditate, right? Well this is very similar, except you have to teach yourself to work toward them in everyday life.”

  For the next half hour, he talked about breathing and how it related to muscle contraction. He had Alex walk around the apartment, tightening and relaxing his core muscles while concentrating on his breathing, paying attention to things that his body normally did automatically. Then he had him do things that were contrary to what most people viewed as normal. Things like tightening his abdominal muscles when he exhaled and then, rather than relaxing as he inhaled, he had him concentrate on tightening even more.

  “And this is how you keep in the zone?”

  “This is just the beginning. You also have to become aware of your involuntary muscles, and eventually learn the mental techniques to control them as well.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “It takes a while, but there are tricks that I can teach you that might help.”

  “How long did it take you to learn all this?”

  “I’m still learning. I’ve been working on it for six or seven years.”

  Alex’s shoulders slumped.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t take you anywhere near that long. I started from scratch, piecing this all together from various disciplines. And I didn’t have anyone to help me. You already know basic meditation and breathing techniques, and you understand a lot of what that does to your body. That’s a huge advantage.”

  “So how long for me, then?”

  “At a guess? Probably just a few weeks to teach you the techniques I use.”

  “Really?” Alex’s eyebrows raised hopefully.

  “How well you learn to apply them depends on you. It’s like playing chess. You can learn the moves in several minutes. Mastery can take years.”

  He was distracted by the chiming of his phone. Alex and Ross looked at one another. Ross pulled the phone from his pocket and stared at the blinking indicator letting him know he had a new text. Oddly enough, the timestamp was a couple of hours old, and he didn’t recognize the number. Chalking it up to the unreliable cell network, he took a calming breath and opened the message.

  LOST PHONE. CHUCKLERS EVERYWHERE. HOUSTON UNSAFE. TRVLING W/ FRNDS. SAFE 4 NOW. CMING TO MONTGOMERY. TXT THIS # WHEN U GET THIS MSG.—ERICA

  Ross struggled to maintain an even heartbeat, taking deep breaths until he could think straight again. He replied.

  GOT UR MSG. NTWRK SPOTTY. WILL TXT U IN A FEW WITH PLAN.

  He hesitated before finishing the message with LUV U – ROSS.

  Alex looked at him. “Was it Erica?”

  “Yeah.”

  Alex was silent for a moment, and Ross saw him struggling with his own inner demons. He knew things must have gone badly for Alex and Jeanette, and he figured she had likely turned into one of the chucklers, or Alex would have brought her with him. Ross knew it must be hard on his friend, knowing that Erica was alive and well, and he almost felt guilty. But Alex recovered quickly.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you better make one if we’re gonna go get her.” He walked back toward the bedroom. “I’ll do another walk through and make sure we didn’t miss anything useful. You work on putting our route together.”

  Ross turned back to the computer, pulling up maps, plotting routes, and making contingencies for anything they could think of. Half an hour later, he had a plan. He snapped a picture of his planned route on the computer & texted it to Erica’s new number. He followed that with a simple text, in case the picture didn’t make it through to her. Eventually, convinced he had done all he could to put everything in motion, Ross shut the laptop down.

  “Ready?” Alex’s voice from behind called.

  Ross turned to see him sitting on the sofa. “Ready.” He disconnected his laptop and slipped it in a backpack. He grabbed the power cord and threw it in as well, then grabbed one of the duffels they had packed with as much loose cash, food, water, and drugs, as they could find. He looked up to find Alex already holding the other duffel. They looked at one another in silence for a moment, then Ross nodded at his friend. “Let’s do it.”

  Pistol drawn, Alex led the way as they slipped through the campus. Laughter and screams still sounded from the various buildings, and more than once, Alex waved them into hiding while groups of chucklers ran past. As stealthily as they could manage, they eventually wove their way through the campus to the visitor’s parking lot. Once they reached the car, Alex opened the trunk and they tossed the bags inside. Alex reached in and pulled out his jian. Ross held his dao tucked underhanded behind his left arm. He thought back to his words of just a few days before.

  “…when is knowledge of swordplay ever going to be important…?” What terrifyingly prophetic words those now seemed.

  Ross climbed quickly into the passenger’s seat of Alex’s Chevy compact. The car had definitely seen better days, and the door squeaked as Alex climbed behind the wheel.

  “So where are we going?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I know you said Texas, but Texas is a big state. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know if my car will hold up for a trip like that.”

  “You think it’ll get us to Mobile?”

  “Alabama?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It should.”

  “Good. Then for now, let’s just get to Mobile. If we can get to my parents’ place, I think we’ll be all right.”

  “They have a decent car there we can use?”

  “Something better.” Ross leaned back into the passenger’s seat. “Let’s get going, and I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”

  Chapter 77

  Erica Chapman

  Something You Don’t See Every Day

  The farther they got from Houston proper, the less wreckage they had to contend with. Erica had sent a text to Ross from Michelle’s phone, letting him know she had lost her phone and he should contact her at that number. She took over driving and let Matt relax in the passenger seat. He and the new guy, Linton, seemed to hit it off all right and the conversation flowed inevitably to discussion about the outbreak. Erica told them what she’d seen on the news, but Linton and Michelle had more in-depth information. They explained what Emmet had told them about Kampala Syndrome.

  “Emmet was an officer at the Office of Naval Intelligence. He was able to get us a little bit of a jump on things so we could get word out to our group.”

  “Your group?” Erica asked.

  Linton hesitated only a second. “We’re part of a survivalist group called the Bee Hive. Emmet was a member.”

  Erica looked at Matt, a little at a loss for words. He just shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know. You hear the word survivalist, and you think about all the crackpots on TV, right?”

  Erica blushed a bit. “Sorry, but yeah. Of course, the way things look now, maybe they were the only ones who actually had it right.”

  There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence as they drove. Erica broke the ice again. “Sorry if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, but where’s Emmet now?”

  Linton looked away. After a moment, Michelle answered for him. “Emmet turned into one of them a little while before you found us. We had just outrun a mob, and he…”

  “Started laughing?” Matt prompted.

  “Yeah. Attacked our driver and wrecked the car.”

  “Sorry,” Erica said. “The wreck killed him?”

  “No,” Linton finally turned back to face them. “No, it killed Lesslie, the driver. But Emmet lived. He was unconscious, still laughing inside that damned gas mask. But he was breathing.”

  Erica looked at Matt significantly.

  Matt cleared his throat. “He was wearing a gas mask?”

  “We all were until last night,” Michelle answered. “I lost mine while we were trying to get a
way from a bunch of those… chucklers, you called them.”

  Matt looked at Linton. “So what happened to yours?”

  Linton looked at his wife. “Sickness and health.”

  “What?”

  Michelle finished for her husband. “Until death, do us part.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

  Matt fell silent at that, and Erica recalled that he had just lost his own wife. Wanting to keep him from dwelling on that, she tried to steer the conversation down another path. “So you called the survivalist folks on TV crackpots. How do you mean? I mean, I’m not trying to start an argument or anything, but how are you guys different? You carry assault rifles and gas masks. You say you have a bunker stocked full of supplies. That’s pretty much what I saw on those TV shows.”

  “Maybe,” Linton agreed. “But the truth of the matter is that those shows were never intended to show the real nature of survivalists. That would have been too boring. They wanted people who were on the fringe. It makes for better ratings.”

  “So what’s different?”

  Linton had evidently been asked this question often enough that he had a ready answer without having to think about it. “I think it’s all in how you approach it. The people on the shows were planning on the end of the world. One week they’re talking to someone who’s planning for a nuclear war, the next week it’s someone who’s convinced that global warming is out of control and we’re all going to drown in a giant flood.

  “We got into it slowly, first planning for what would happen if I lost my job. How would we get groceries? Pay the bills? Stuff like that. When the hurricane hit a few years back, we saw the food disappear from the grocery stores in a matter of hours. When people realized that, there were riots and murders, and we realized how crazy things could get if the system broke down for a few weeks. So we got our concealed carry permits. And we figured if we were going to carry, we should get proper training.

  “Eventually, we met other people who were thinking the same way, so we started pooling resources… learning more about being self-sufficient. After a few years, we had a core group of about a dozen people, and others were asking to join up. So some of us turned it into a business. We started training other people and selling survival gear. It gave us a certain amount of freedom and let us get great discounts on our own gear.”