Matt Hults: Anything Can Be Dangerous

I wrote an introduction for Matt Hults’ wonderful debut novel HUSK, and made reference to a story he wrote called ‘Anything Can be Dangerous.’ Matt keeps telling me that he loves the intro and that it makes him laugh every time he reads it. At some point it occurred to Matt that he wanted the story I mentioned to be made available, and he asked me to put together a little one-story sampler, selling me on the concept that it would make a great promotional tool for his novel. Being the grumpy old fart that I am I tried to blow Matt off, telling him that I was far too busy to promote his book in any way, shape, or form. I think my exact words were, You promote the stupid thing… I’m tired and drunk; get out of my face. Of course, this didn’t go over too well and he successfully managed to twist my rubber arm and get me to do something intelligent.

I set aside the things I was currently working on, including the paperback version of Husk, along with the upcoming titles Zombie Kong, Living Death Race 2000, Into Hell, Best New Zombie Tales #3, Best New Vampire Tales #1 (paperback), the paperback version of my sophomore novel Terror Town, the ebook version of my first novel The Dead Parade, Best New Werewolf Tales #1, plus the re-release of Gary Brandner’s famous ‘The Howling’ trilogy—book one, two, and three.

When I told Matt I was busy, I’m sure he had no idea what I was talking about, or that I was so busy. But Matt’s one smart cookie, and I’m guessing that upon reading this little note he’ll be able to understand the spot I’m in. He’ll also figure out that a one-story sampler isn’t my style—so what you’re looking at here is a four-story sampler plus a preview for HUSK.

The first story is called Anything Can Be Dangerous. It’s a whole lot of fun and the only place it’s available is right here, inside this collection. Enjoy.

This must be what a kid with a normal childhood feels like on Christmas morning , Greg Shader thought as he opened the box containing his new laptop computer. He stripped off the shipping tape and tossed the Styrofoam packing material aside, exposing the long sought-after prize waiting inside.

The sleek silver machine was sealed in a clear plastic bag, which gave off the quintessential smell of new electronics when Greg pulled it out of the box, but his childlike smile of delight suddenly melted from his face when he turned it over and spotted the bold red-letter message written across its front side:

WARNING:

PLASTIC BAGS CAN BE DANGEROUS.

He stared at the bag silently, holding it in front of him as if his body had become nothing more than a lifeless mound of sculpted clay.

The label’s warning was followed by the advice that plastic bags should be kept away from babies and children due to the risk of suffocation, and even though Greg understood the obligatory legal nature of the notice, the phrasing of the first sentence triggered an outbreak of goosebumps across his skin.

To anyone else, the linkage of those particular words might’ve seemed normal, maybe even humorous. Greg knew that for every warning label ever made—especially the absurd ones—there was someone who’d done what it cautioned against and lived to sue about it. Consequently, everything needed a warning label these days, or a sign, or a sticker. What unnerved him about this warning, however, was how much it read like something his mother would’ve said when he was a child.

“Anything can be dangerous, Gregory,” she used to tell him, “so never let your guard down for an instant!”

The message on the bag struck him like her words from the grave.

But she was gone. Long gone.

As was her insane mistrust of everyday items.

Discarding his thoughts of the past, he cut through the seal at the top of the bag and unwrapped the computer. Living alone, he had no children or pets to worry about, so he tossed the empty bag on the floor, along with the box and its packing material. Those simple inanimate objects might have represented potentially deadly hazards in his mother’s eyes, but to him they constituted nothing more than trash.

He spent the next hour installing various office-related programs onto the laptop’s hard drive and transferring backup files of his second suspense novel from his out-of-date desktop.

As an unemployed insurance selection specialist turned author, the laptop represented a huge milestone in his new writing career, proving that his dream of being able to tell stories for a living and still pay the bills on time could soon become a reality.

Around four his cell phone rang, and Greg answered using the caller ID glowing on the display. “Hey, Jackass.”

“Ah, man, you changed my title,” Len Moore replied. “What happened to Numb-nuts?”

“Got a new bill collector. What’s up with you, bro?”

“Oh, you know, just reaping the benefits of working at a hospital.”

“Better health insurance?”

“No. Dating nurses. I’ve got a hot lead on two new RN’s down in Peds. I could set up a double if you’re game?”

Greg ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Let’s get some details first. What am I walking into?”

“Her name’s Mia, and I’m telling you, bud, this girl has the body of a goddess. You won’t regret it.”

“She isn’t like the last ‘goddess’ you set me up with, is she? You remember, the one who looked more like Zeus than Athena.”

“No, I promise. That was a one-time thing caused by radiation exposure. Won’t happen again.”

Greg laughed. He’d heard that one before. Despite Len’s track record as a matchmaker a date sounded like a good idea, even if it was a blind one. He hadn’t been with a girl for over a month, and the potential for sex was always appealing.

“Okay, I’m in. Where are we meeting?”

Greg took down the address. He still had a number of errands to run before getting ready, so after talking with Len he shutdown the computer and closed it up for the day.

Before leaving the room he collected all the trash from the floor, gathering the computer’s packing supplies into the box for safekeeping, just in case he needed to return it later, thus avoiding any restocking fees.

He found everything but the bag it had been wrapped in.

He stood where he was, looking left and right around the edge of the bed, finding nothing but clean white carpet.

He knelt down and looked under the bed.

Still nothing.

Plastic Bags Can Be Dangerous.

He banished the thought from his mind.

“Thanks a lot, Mom,” he said to the empty room.

He tossed the box onto the bed and went to find his car keys, not giving the mislaid bag another moment of his concern.

Greg got home after one in the morning.

He parked in the driveway of the detached garage then walked to the front of the house to unlock the door, smiling to himself while he strode through the summer night air.

Mia was spectacular. Beyond spectacular. Far better than Len could’ve ever described, because her personality was as intoxicating as her appearance.

And what an appearance: red hair; green eyes; slim body; pert breasts. Greg had always possessed the looks and wit to win the ladies’ attention, but Mia’s charm and beauty had actually made him second guess his ability to entice her. For the first time since high school he’d actually felt awkward around a girl.

They’d started the evening off at a bar on the riverfront, staying only long enough for a quick drink and a round of introductions. After that, they relocated to a racetrack just north of the city, where Len’s cousin was driving in a demolition derby. There were live bands and plenty of food and drinks, but the show’s entire atmosphere reeked of redneck testosterone. Mia hated it, and so did Greg, and their mutual distaste of the event made them instant allies. About twenty minutes into the first melee of eardrum-splitting automotive battle they ducked away and took Greg’s car back to Minneapolis. By then, his initial bout of shyness had passed.