Chucklers (Book 1): Laughter is Contagious

by Jeff Brackett

  Judging from the speed and distance, Charlie estimated he had two or maybe three minutes before they found out whether the Bahama Queen or Fred Hartman would win the upcoming skirmish. He looked down toward the water. It was a tossup as to whether he would make it to the water before the collision. Licking his lips nervously, Charlie examined the controls. There was a single red button that drew his attention. The simplified boat symbol was accompanied by two downward pointing arrows. The bright yellow tag beneath it had the words EMERGENCY RELEASE on it.

  You got about ninety seconds to shit or get off the pot, boy.

  Charlie looked back down toward the water. It was hard to tell from his perch at the top of the lifeboat, but he estimated he was still ten or fifteen feet above the water. Would the lifeboat survive the drop?

  It sure as shit won’t survive crashing into the damned bridge.

  His hand hovered over the button.

  Do it, boy.

  Still he hesitated, looking ahead at the looming bridge.

  Do it!

  Charlie slammed his hand down on the button, and his stomach fell away in a roller coaster drop that ended with an abrupt splash as the lifeboat dropped the final ten feet to the water.

  Chapter 79

  Erica Chapman

  Looking Up

  Erica got out of the SUV and walked to the edge of the bridge. It was a surreal moment, watching a huge luxury liner pushing through the Houston Ship Channel, standing on what would normally be a busy bridge, bustling with traffic. But there was no traffic noise. In fact, the only thing she heard as she watched the deceptively idyllic scene was the wind blowing through the cables and across the bridge, and the trilling of seagulls overhead.

  Car doors closed behind her, and she was joined by Matt, Linton and Michelle. Erica spoke without turning. “I always wanted to go on a cruise. I was always too busy with school or lacrosse. I never even saw a cruise ship before now.”

  Matt grunted. “The way things are looking, it might be a long, long time before you ever see another one.”

  “That thing is huge!” Michelle said.

  Erica nodded, watching as the giant vessel continued toward them. It was close enough that she could see through the glass windows on some of the decks. She looked up at the upper decks, and suddenly her heart skipped a beat.

  Linton and Matt must have seen it at the same time. They began to draw back to the SUV, Linton pulling his wife by the arm. “Come on, baby. We gotta go!”

  “What is it?”

  Erica was already behind the wheel, pulling away even before all the doors were closed. Heart pounding, she floored the gas, weaving dangerously close to the few vehicles stalled or wrecked on the bridge. “Are we gonna make it?” she asked Matt, who had his window down, and was craning his neck out to look up at the ship.

  Crap, crap, crap! He’s looking up at the ship. Way up! There was no way that massive structure was going to fit under the bridge.

  “No.”

  “What!” She practically yelled it at him. “What do you mean? You mean we’re not going to make it?”

  “Not completely. It’s gonna hit the bridge before we’re off of it.”

  She pushed her foot to the floorboard, trying her best to shove the accelerator through floor, and the Xterra roared down the road. No one had to tell her when the ship hit. The bridge lurched beneath the tires, and Erica struggled to keep them pointed in the right direction. The sound of snapping cables giving way, sang through the air like ice cracking on a lake as she fought the steering wheel. The bridge would lurch and sway to the left, lurch again, sway to the right, back and forth, up and down and though Erica had never been in an earthquake, this was what she imagined it might be like to be caught in a big one.

  But she found a kind of rhythm to it, sensing when the bridge had reached the apex of its swing, bracing for the sudden change, steering to compensate for it. In fact, she was beginning to adapt to the new method of steering so well that when the tires hit solid ground again, she nearly drove off the road, anticipating another swing. The tires bit into unmoving concrete as she was wrenching the wheel back to the left, lurching forward so suddenly that she had to jerk the wheel back on center to keep them on the road. Realizing they were past the danger, she slammed on the brakes.

  Heart pounding, she took several panting breaths, staring straight ahead as the previously silent evening was filled with the groans and cracks of shattering concrete and twisting steel.

  Chapter 80

  Charles Griffe

  Raining Concrete and Bouncing Waters

  Charlie’s head flew forward with the sudden reversal of inertia and he barely kept from hitting his forehead on the panel before him. Dazed, he shook his head, then looked up at the towering cruise ship sliding through the water beside him. The wake of the larger vessel rocked the lifeboat, and spun it about fifteen degrees to starboard, even as it dragged the smaller boat through the water alongside it. Looking up and to his left, Charlie saw the bow of the ship passing beneath the huge bridge.

  “Oh, holy shit.” He looked back down at the pilot’s controls. He pressed the green power button for the engine and panicked as nothing happened. “Now what?”

  He hit the button again, and still nothing happened.

  A shrieking of tearing metal sounded across the water—the sound of Godzilla battling Mothra—and Charlie looked back at the ship. Its upper decks had collided with the side of the bridge, the concrete ripping through the ship. Chunks of concrete began to break off the bridge, splashing into the water around the lifeboat. Charlie pressed the button over and over, cursing at the lack of results.

  Turn the key, you damned idiot!

  Charlie blinked. The key had been in his periphery, just to the right of the control panel. He switched the key to the plainly labeled ON position and punched the button once more. “Yes!” This time, the engine thrummed to life, and Charlie slammed the throttle levers forward.

  He looked up to where the Bahama Queen was locked in her final battle with the Fred Hartman Bridge. The deadly rain of concrete increased as Charlie watched, and increasingly larger pieces showered down. Beside him, the Bahama Queen began agitating the water. Upper decks hung under the bridge, her momentum still pushing forward. The resulting vectors of force began to raise her bow several feet higher. As a result, the stern, having nowhere else to go, began to drop lower into the water.

  The lifeboat was almost directly beside the stern at that point, and the water around it began to seethe as if he were riding a toy boat in a hot tub. Green water turned brown as mud and silt from the bottom of the Ship Channel was stirred up by the huge ship’s propellers. Charlie recalled Chris mentioning that the ship would only have about five feet of clearance. Judging from the amount the bow had raised, he thought it was a safe bet that the propellers in back were cutting deeply into the muck at the bottom.

  Charlie cranked the wheel hard to the right, trying to get away from the raining concrete and bouncing waters, but the lifeboat seemed to have difficulty navigating in the swirling channel. “Come on, you bitch! Turn, dammit!”

  A huge section of concrete splashed a few hundred yards ahead. Charlie cursed. That one had been about the size of a bus, and would have crushed the lifeboat, had it hit. Slowly, the boat began to respond, inching away from the roiling water beside the ship. And all the while, over the sound of the straining engine, the noise of battling Titans clamored.

  Charlie pounded his fist on the control panel, willing the lifeboat to move faster. Finally, the engine seemed to find purchase and started moving steadily away from the ship. Within seconds, the water was smoother and progress was significant. He turned to look behind him through the rear windshield. The Bahama Queen drew farther behind him, and he watched as it began to shift its forward momentum to the side, beginning a slow list to starboard. He swallowed as he saw dozens of people falling or jumping overboard and wondered how many of them were crazy, and how many might be survivors like
he and his group had been. He also wondered how many of them survived the fall into the churning water forty feet or more below.

  You keep worryin’ about things that ain’t none of your concern, boy. Pay attention to keepin’ yourself alive.

  Charlie nodded. Dad was right.

  Dad was always right.

  Charlie steered the boat toward shore.

  Chapter 81

  Erica Chapman

  Irresistible Force Meets Immoveable Object

  They stood beside the Xterra, looking out at the huge ship struggling to pass beneath the bridge. There was absolutely no way it was ever going to make it, but Erica wondered whether it would be the ship or the bridge that would give way first. As they watched in perverse fascination, Michelle’s phone chimed. Erica looked at her as she pulled the cell out and opened the screen. She glanced at it, then handed it to Erica. “Ross.”

  Heart pounding again, though this time for totally different reasons, Erica struggled to keep her face straight as she read the text. Ross was alive! She read through it three times, making sure she had it memorized before she handed it back to Michelle. She wanted to smile. She wanted to laugh. Hell, she wanted to jump up and down, and sing to the skies!

  Instead, she walked back to the SUV and slammed her fist into the door hard enough that the pain overrode her euphoria. Wincing, she turned to find the others looking at her warily.

  Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason you feel the need to beat on our transportation?”

  Flexing her bruised hand, Erica shrugged. “Felt the need to smile, and I didn’t figure that would be such a great idea.”

  “So you decided to take it out on a metal door?” Linton raised an eyebrow. “You got an odd way of looking at things, don’t you?”

  “Look, from what we’ve seen, if you laugh, you go crazy. I don’t plan on going crazy.”

  “We don’t know that’s how it works.”

  “No, we don’t. We don’t know anything for a fact. But I’m not taking chances. Not when I’ve finally got proof that Ross is all right.”

  Linton took the phone from his wife and read the text. He whistled. “Erica? All due respect, but I think you might already be crazy. Houston was bad enough, but New Orleans? That’s gotta be even worse.”

  Erica climbed back behind the wheel as Linton and Michelle got in the back. “Everyplace is bad,” she continued. “It’s all just a matter of degrees now.”

  Matt interrupted their discussion. “Guys?”

  He was still standing beside the SUV, watching the cruise ship’s mighty struggle. “Guys, there’s a lifeboat coming this way.”

  Linton pulled some binoculars out of his pack and they all rejoined Matt. As Linton raised the binoculars, Erica looked at the mammoth cruise ship as its huge engines continued to propel it through the bridge. For a moment, she thought of the old koan; what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? The thought of koans in general led to thoughts of Ross and she flexed her hand, once more using the pain in her knuckles to distract her from the threatening smile.

  Erica sighed. “I suppose we should see if the people in the lifeboat need any help.”

  “They do.” Linton handed the binoculars to Matt. “They’ve got some chucklers running around on top of the thing.”

  “Huh.” Matt passed the binoculars to Erica.

  “What?” She raised the glasses to her eyes, adjusting the focus as she spoke.

  “Looks like one of ‘em has purple hair.”

  Bringing the view into focus, she saw Matt was right. Three chucklers cavorted atop the bright yellow shell of the lifeboat, dancing and beating on the top with their hands and feet. One of them had the left side of his head cut close, but as he turned she could see the other side had long purple hair. She lowered the binoculars to find the others looking at her, apparently waiting on her to make a decision, and she wondered how she had become the leader of their little expedition. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go give them a hand.”

  They climbed back into the Xterra, and she drove east to meet the lifeboat.

  Chapter 82

  Charles Griffe

  Time To Slice And Dice

  The sound of running feet on the roof above and behind him told Charlie he wasn’t alone, and he had little doubt that his companions were more of the crazies that had swarmed over the lifeboat. How they had managed to hang on during the wild rollercoaster ride off the ship was beyond him, but somehow at least two of them had done so.

  He looked down at where his knife rested on the console, nodding to himself. Okay. They want to play? He could play.

  Damn right you can, boy!

  He looked ahead through the forward windshield. The little channel he headed down ended up ahead in a series of beachfront homes with private docks and boats. If he didn’t slow down soon, he was going to make a mess of things. He reached for the knife and began to pull back on the throttle.

  Now, that ain't playin’ to win, boy. Think!

  He cocked his head to the side as he thought through the ramifications of what his dad suggested. There were only seconds to make up his mind and he watched the docks ahead draw nearer. Finally nodding, he threw the throttle all the way forward and checked to make sure his seat belt was secure.

  “All right, Dad. You asked for it. Hang on tight.” He braced his feet and gripped the steering wheel as the lifeboat glanced off the first dock. The boat lurched to the side, righted itself, and he jerked the wheel back toward the docks. The boat leapt forward to hit the cigar boat in the next dock, bouncing upward as the lifeboat drove over the lower profile racing boat, finally coming to rest, partly on the smaller boat, and partly on the wrecked dock. The prow of the lifeboat crashed down on the next dock, and Charlie’s seatbelt was tested as the vessel came to an abrupt halt.

  He pulled the throttle all the way back, shut off the engine, and grabbed his knife. The deck canted at about a thirty-degree angle to port and aft, and Charlie stumbled as he unstrapped and half-ran, half-fell toward one of the portside doors that would be closest to the dock. Unlocking the latch, he threw the hatch open and stepped onto the narrow, crazily leaning deck.

  Wheezing laughter warned of an attacker behind, and he spun to see the man leaping from the upper deck. Sliding to the side, Charlie shoved the knife out, impaling his attacker in mid-air. Blood ran down his arm as he deflected the dying man to the side and let him roll down the deck and under the railing. He spun, looking frantically for another attacker, even as he heard the first one splash in the water.

  He knew he’d heard at least two sets of feet running overhead, but it looked like his plan might have worked. Wrecking the lifeboat into the dock had evidently thrown the other crazy overboard.

  Moving carefully, he grabbed the portside rail with his left hand, keeping a tight grip on the knife in his right, and pulled himself up the deck toward the prow. He looked over the side as he went, scanning the ruins of the dock below, looking for a stable area to jump down. At first, all he saw was broken boards and lapping waves. But when he reached the front of the lifeboat and crossed to the starboard side, he finally found a relatively safe section of the dock. He jumped, landing clumsily, realizing that he’d gotten so used to the movement of the waves beneath him that dry land felt odd. He turned slowly, watching for any sign of movement, but still saw nothing.

  Stepping carefully over broken or missing boards in the dock, he finally made his way to dry land. Running footsteps sounded on wooden planks behind him, alerting him that a second assailant was coming even before he heard the gasping laughter. He spun, staggering a little, still clumsy on land, and held his knife before him, ready for the charging enemy.

  He gaped. The man rushing at him was huge! Charlie knew he was a large man, but this behemoth was easily a head taller and looked to weigh in a good fifty pounds heavier. Charlie swallowed nervously. Run? Fight?

  I didn’t raise no damn pussy, boy. Time to slice and dice
.

  Charlie took a deep breath and braced himself. He watched as the bigger man rumbled off the dock and onto dry land. Less than fifty feet away, and Charlie shouted at him, “Come on, you damn son of a bitch! Let’s do this!”

  The laughing juggernaut took two more steps and Charlie jumped as the crack of a rifle sounded from the right. He glanced that way to see movement, but didn’t want to take his eyes away from his attacker for more than a split second. One distraction at a time.

  Looking back toward the dock, he saw the giant drop to his knees. Blood dripped from a comically small hole in the man’s chest as he tried to get back up. Another shot rang out, and he fell to his face. He twitched once before laying still. Charlie looked wildly back to his right, back to where he’d seen movement a few seconds before.

  A man stepped from behind the pillars of a nearby beach house. He was joined by another man and two women, all of whom carried rifles. Charlie squeezed his knife nervously, watching for signs of laughter, but none of them appeared to be infected. They stopped a few yards away, watching him silently.

  “You planning to attack us with that thing?”

  Charlie looked down at his knife, then back at their rifles. “I don’t think it’d do me much good, would it?”

  “Not likely. Mainly wanted to make sure you weren’t laughing.”

  They stared at each other nervously, until Charlie finally asked, “So, are you the one who shot the big guy there?”

  “Yeah.” The man stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Matt.” He pointed to each of the others. “That’s Erica, Linton, and Michelle.”