The Red Cough

by E. J. Loveson

  This digital edition published in 2016

  First published in North Carolina in 2016 by

  N8KD Media Publishing

  Bladenboro, North Carolina

  Copyright © N8KD Media

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, stage production or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This digital book was published exclusively in part by Kindle® for Amazon®

  BOOK 2

  The

  RedCough: Cordyceps-a Fungus that attacks a colony. It kills from within growing rapidly. Finally sprouting out of the body and releasing new spores. It is said that Cordyceps exist due to overpopulation.

  1

  Louie sat at the small kitchen table, and kitchen meaning a small table dividing the space between kitchen and bed/living room, finishing his two-day old salad. The TV and AC blurred in the background. The Half smoked blunt suggested that Louie had the munchies. After dropping the fork onto his plate and sighing from satisfaction he noticed the time on the clock. “Fuck...” He mumbled, “I gotta get dressed.” he turned the television to a music channel, lit the blunt, PUFF. PUFF! He sits back taking a deep breath. PUFF. PUFF. He holds it in, closing his eyes. “SHIT!” He blurts out in frustration, stands and pounces across the room like a prized boxer, “I gotta make some money tonight.” He begins to throw his fist; a swing there and a punch here. “Welcome to Shenanigans,” Punch! “Do you need a refill?” Swing!

  Louie stood at five-feet, seven-inches; broad shoulders and a strong and beautiful dancer's physique. He fell to the bed and laughed hysterically, only to be interrupted by his cell. “Yo! Yeah, come up.” He hung up the phone and snatched a pair of green comic book printed underwear. They fit him tightly, not leaving much to be imagined, and a bulge to delight in. He checks himself out in the mirror as he pulled them up, pleased he smacked his ass. No sooner there was a knock at the door. On the other side stood a man of average height and build. He wore his work uniform for the restaurant they both worked. The man’s eyes grew wide as he laid them on Louie.

  “I see you’re not ready for work… as usual” he was unabashed by Louie’s display. He walked right past Louie and plopped right on the bed. “I got a blunt, but I forgot my lighter.”

  “You lose points bruh! Here.” Louie tossed him a lighter off the dresser and closed the door. “It’s funny how me in my underwear don’t do shit to you.”

  “Yeah, even those.”

  “Yo’ don’t talk shit about my underwear!”

  “Yeah, Yeah, they ya’ favorite pair. You know you could just buy more, Louie.”

  “Then they won’t be that special anymore, would they, Marc?”

  “Shad’dup an’ lem’me light this blunt, you fuckin’ up my concentration runnin’ ya’ mouf’...The fuck they special fo’ anyways?”

  “They have the covers from all the limited edition comics on ‘em! Can’t find these anywhere else unless they wearin’ ‘em! And that’s a few people.”

  “You such a fuckin’ underwear nerd yo’.” Marc took a long drag of the blunt after lighting it and passed it to Louie. he held the smoke in for a few seconds and exhaled. “Hurry up an’ get dressed before you make us late man.” Louie paced the hotel room, picking up and putting on his uniform. While putting on his work shirt he stops and looks at Marc, his grey eyes wide with temporary curiosity.” You got some molly?”

  “Yeah man. I’ll have it ready for ya’ in a sec. I gotta’ crush this shit up.” This was a before-work ritual for them. They’d smoke, then do some molly so when they’re at work, they would be hyped and more than ready for their guests. Ever since their ritual began, they’ve made the most tips out of all the servers at Shenanigans. It’s become their good luck charm.

  High, Louie Stared blankly at the food screen on the Expo line, and ticket times were an astounding forty-five minutes per table, including two top tables. “I’m too high for this,” he mumbled underneath his breath, as he apologized to his tables for delayed food.

  “Aye Bruh!” One the guest at one of his tables rudely yelled across the dining room, “Gem’me muh check!”

  Louie stood at the host stand chuckling at the disrespectful guest. “Dis motha’ fucka’! Not even in an open section.” He printed the check.

  “Bruh, you sitting over there talking. We need our check! Shit, we trying to leave.”

  “Here’s your check, sir.” Louie was polite.

  “Man, keep the change.” Handing Louie cash.

  “Thank you for coming. Have a good night. Do you know that left me change?”

  “The change?” the hostess asked.

  “No literally change.”

  “How much was the bill?”

  “$59.76… Gave me $60.”

  “Are you serious? Crazy night, huh? Can you believe we are on a wait? These kitchen times are terrible.”

  Louie Scoffed, “That Warren’s terrible management. I’ll fix this shit tho.” He had Shenanigan Bucks, and after adding the cash coupons his tip totaled $25.00. He continued on with his night. He watched table after tables come and go, and servers get cut. He cleaned the same table at least 20 times, but he was happy. He was making money, and with more Shenanigan Bucks his tips were higher. Louie, Marc and the bartender began their closing duties. Al the guest has left the dining area, and there was one man at the bar. The bartender called ‘last call’. The guest at the bar stumbled to stand removing money from his wallet and slamming it onto the counter, took his last double and staggered to the bathroom. The three met at the host stand.

  “So, when is this guy going to leave?” Marc sarcastically asked aloud.

  “Man…” The Bartender started, “this motha’ fucka’s been here since 8 30, bruh!”

  “Well, he’s in the bathroom now.” Louie said sweeping the floor.

  “I’m going to finish the back,” y’all can handle this. He left.

  “Don’t look at me.” Louie continued to sweep. The bartender stood there. “What you gon’ do?”

  The bartender walked to the bathroom door “Sir, are you okay?” he pushed open the door seeing the main naked in the mirror covered in blood. He quickly jumped back closing the door, “Yo the fuck!”

  Louie hid himself behind a wall, “I am not in the proper mindset for jokes. What the fuck man?” The naked man stumbled from the restroom. From the waist down, and underneath his armpits he was covered in mushrooms protruding outward. “Oh my Fucking GOD!” Louie ran to the front of the store, the bartender quickly followed behind him. the man slowly walked to them, giving the rest of the crew enough time to see what was going on.

  “Help...me….” the man said as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

  “What the fuck is wrong with this nigga!” Marc said as he jabbed a mopped at the naked man. His eyes rolling in the back of his head as he gurgled and drooling profusely, struggling to mumble incoherently. He and Louie’s eyes met, the man reached for Louie who was closest, and backed away quickly.

  “Help me... Please, help me!” He walked desperately reaching as far as he could, never meeting the hands of Louie, until he stumbled to the floor, grasping in the air. He laid there, silently pleading for helping, tears flowing from his eyes. This man needed comfort; maybe an escape from his torture.

  This man needs to be put out of his misery, Louie thought to himself. the man tried to crawl on the floor past the empty tables. “Sir,” the manager called, “The ambulance is on its way. Sir?”

  The man painfully roll
ed onto his back. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. and with his last breath he released a cloud of red dust in the air, covering the neighboring tables. Everyone covered their faces and back away as the cloud settled.

  2

  The sun crept over the city of Seattle as Michael stood in Victor Park in a slim grey one button jacket, fitted black button long sleeve shirt, darker shade of grey slacks and black shoes. His head and facial hair were neatly trimmed. He sipped from his cup of Seattle’s Best Coffee and looked at the foamy water separating him from West Seattle. The sun and city scape were at his back. He watched the ferry slowly cross the water, they were still running. The people of Bremerton and Bainbridge Island still worked in the city. There were no cruise ships docked, nor Navy vessels. The docks are closed. There are no birds flying in the sky. No Pigeons, Seagulls, or Finches. Most terrible of all, the air smelled fishy.

  People rushed about to work, card were filling the streets. The city has been encouraging people to return to work and stay resilient, as Seattleites are. How arrogant, Michael thought to himself, turning and walking towards the Public Market on Pike Street. The Public Market had less people there than it usually would. There was a small crowd here and there buying things, but no throngs of people. There were no tourists, no men singing and throwing fish about. just background noise, white noise. Almost dead except for the occasional sound of tires from the street and small conversations. He made his way down Western Ave, he had to retrieve his mail from the community mail room for the homeless.

  Michael no longer spends nights in shelters. He can thank Arthur and his wife for moving him into their guest room above the garage. Arthur also gave him his old clothes, the ones he could fit of course, Getting a job has been difficult with the Red Cough going around. Managers have wanted to hold onto whoever they could and have been reluctant to hire people. They fear the risk of infection is too great.

  The Public Market had less people there than it usually would. There was a small crowd of people buying things here and there, but no throngs of people, no tourists, no men singing acapella or throwing fish about. Just background noise, white noise. The sounds of the market were nearly mute aside from the occasional thumps from vehicle tires going over the cobblestone pavement and distant conversations. Michael made his way down Western Ave, he had to retrieve his mail from the community mail room for the homeless.

  The building sat on the corner near Occidental Park. “Accidental” Michael called it. He walked past the closed shops, past the nearly empty park, bumping into homeless friends. “Stay away from the shelter, they lockin’ niggas in there! Once you go in they don’t let you out!” They told him. He walked past the Mission, the windows were covered on the inside so no one can see in. He stood a good distance away just to observe. No one had gone in or out. He smoked his cigarette, conversing loosely as he watched the streets.

  Downtown was relatively empty. There were posters littered about with pictures of people captioned with “HAVE YOU SEEN?” written in large bold letters below them. A few people dressed in suits moved the government buildings. Michael noticed a white utility van suspiciously cruising the area. Feeling uncomfortable, he decided to walk back towards the business district. A visibly homeless woman sat on the step of the Federal Building. She looked dirty, with an old tattered quilt worn as a poncho. There were plastic bags tied to various places of a shopping cart she had with her. She appeared to rock back and forth mumbling incoherent sentences. The white utility van stopped. Two men in hazmat suits quickly got out of the vehicle. Michael watched as the woman stood up trying to run away. ZAP! The man in the suit hit her with a Taser gun. The old homeless woman fell to the ground, smacking her face on the pavement, releasing what seemed like the rest of her teeth on to the ground. Without flipping her over the men pick her up by her wrists and ankles and throw her into the back of the van, close the door, and cruised away.

  Michael stood in complete shock and disbelief of what he just witnessed. He wanted so badly to say something, but he was afraid he’d be hauled away also. Those on the street who had also witnessed the scene walked by and pretended as if nothing had happened. As fast as it happened, it ended in seconds.

  ****

  “Yo! Get that muh’fucka outta hea’!” Louie exclaimed as he quickly created more and more distance between himself and the nude fungus covered man. His body ceasing to function as the red dust billowing from his mouth and ears as well as the fungal growths. The bartender gasped as he stepped away, inadvertently breathing it in. Marc rushed into the kitchen and returned with a fire extinguisher. He aimed at the man and blew the flame retardant spray on him, settling the dust and pushing him down. Marc looked around the dining room, at Louie, the manager, and the bartender. Everyone, including him, was breathless and in a state of shock.

  “What the fuck, was wrong with that man!?” The manager asked.

  “Iono’ bruh but I ain't’ touchin’ em’. Nah um na fuggin’ wid’ dat’.” Louie’s Louisiana accent was clearly heard.

  “I’m gonna go to the hospital, I think I breathed that shit in... I feel sick” The bartender said, grabbing his keys and running out of the door before anyone could say anything.

  Marc looked at Louie. “You ready yo?” Louie quickly nodded. “Lata boss.”

  “Y’all can’t leave! I’m calling the police!” The Manager exclaimed. After what we all just saw?? Hell no one's leaving! He yanked his cell phone from his pocket and hurriedly dialed 911.

  “Boss man, I don’t feel too good about doing that.” Marc said nervously.

  “Either way, that man may be dead. The coroner needs to come get him.” The Manager said as he covered the microphone with his free hand. “Um yes, Hi? It’s an emergency. well, I don’t quite know exactly how to explain. Well, there’s a man on my restaurant floor and I think he’s dead.” Marc and Louie took the opportunity and bolted out of the door to Marc’s car. “Hey! Get back here! God Damnit!!!”

  We gotta go to the room to get my things. I can’t stay there no more. That shit was crazy!” Louie jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop and dashed into the hotel. Because he’s always prepared to move at a moment's notice, his things were easy to grab. he threw his toiletries and food into bags, grabbed his drugs and left. He was living in an extended stay hotel, lucky for him, this was his last night before checking out in the morning., so no money was lost. On his way to the car he noticed the police arriving in droves, with white utility trucks, at the restaurant. He hurriedly threw his things in the car and jumped in. “Go bruh!!”

  “You can sleep at my place man.” Marc said as they sped off. They rode for a few minutes in silence.” That shit was crazy!” Louie exclaimed, shattering the silence. “Don’t even know what to say about it Lou…. for real”

  “I need to smoke. You got rillos? I don’t have any, I think I left em in the room. Louie fished the bag of weed from his backpack and brought it up to his eye for a closer look at the green, sticky strong smelling stuff.

  “We can stop at the gas station real quick, I need gas anyways. Yo put that shit down bruh you know cops be out round this time!”

  “Shit! My bad.” Louie put the bag back into his backpack.

  Two street lights ahead they saw a police checkpoint. It wasn’t your regular run-of-the-mill checkpoint though. In addition to the police presence, there was a white van and men in white hazmat suits. The suited men carried assault rifles. As the line of cars grew longer, Louie and Marc became nervous. They had just witnessed and left the scene of a bizarre death that police were called to handle, and Louie has an ounce of weed on him.

  “I’m puttin this shit up my ass...Not goin’ to jail tonight yo” said Louie, carefully fishing the large bag of weed out of his backpack again, keeping it down so it wouldn’t be risked being seen.

  “Eww nigga i'm not smokin that!!” Marc turned his face in disgust.

  “Nigga...shut the fuck up! It’s going to be protected. Louie grabs a condom
and lube from his backpack. “Gotta be prepared at all times, ya know?”

  “Yeah…” Marc watched with subtle interest trying not to let Louie notice him staring. Louie shapes the bag into a cylinder, rolls the condom on it, pulls down his pants to his bare ass, lubes his asshole and the now phallic shaped condom covered bag of weed, and slowly works it into his ass.

  “Damn, I haven’t been fucked in a while. My ass tight!”

  “Aww c’mon man!!” Marc cracks a smile that he quickly attempts to hide. “And you doin that shit all slow. Is your dick rock-fuckin hard?! Nigga did you just SHOOT precum!? Oh my GOD you’re so fuckin nasty!!”

  “Wha?” Louie moaned. It began to feel so good that instead of placing it all the way in, he uses the condomed ounce of weed to pleasure himself. “Fuck this shit feels soooo good” His touches his ass, feeling it creaming from the intense pleasure. He then places his fingers in his mouth, tasting himself. He notices Mark avoiding him nervously, and decides to turn his dripping wet ass towards Marc so he can get a better view. Marc stares as traffic sits at a halt and adjusts himself.