Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) by Margaret Lashley (ereader for android TXT) 📕

flow, there’s good evidence that our bacterial ecosystem—the microbiome I mentioned earlier—can influence how we think and feel. In other words, bacteria can moderate both our brain and our behavior.”

I sat up, my anger evaporating. “Seriously?” I asked. “How does that work?”

Grayson shrugged. “No one knows for sure.”

“Great,” I grumbled, collapsing back into the booth. “We sat through all of that malarkey just so you can tell us there’s nothing we can do about it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Grayson said.

“Then there is something we can do?” Jimmy asked.

“Perhaps,” Grayson said. “As it turned out, during experiments with both mice and human subjects, we found we could improve their anxiety levels, obsessive-compulsive disorders, and even memories simply by giving them probiotics.”

I winced. “Probiotics?” I asked, not sure if I’d heard that right.

Grayson’s green eyes twinkled. “Yes! By increasing our subjects’ good bacteria, we were able to reduce their undesirable mental symptoms. So, extrapolating from that evidence, it seems plausible to postulate that bad bacteria could have been the cause of some of those undesirable symptoms in the first place.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you saying Earl’s under the influence of bad bacteria?”

Grayson gave a quick nod. “Yes. I believe so.”

I frowned. “But if that were true, wouldn’t we all be acting the same way he is?”

“We would indeed—if we’d all eaten one of these babies,” Grayson said, holding up the baggie with the donut hole.

“You think that thing’s full of bad bacteria?” Jimmy asked.

“Not only bad,” Grayson said, “but from a whole other galactic neighborhood.”

Chapter Forty-Six

I waved goodnight to Garth and Jimmy, then closed the RV door and looked over at Grayson and shook my head.

“I’m sorry, but intergalactic gangster bacteria taking over our thoughts and actions? That’s just too out there to believe.”

Grayson looked up from his laptop and shrugged. “Believe it or don’t—at your own peril. But the truth is, it’s already happened.”

I gasped. “It has?”

“Sure. Every year Earth’s bombarded by thousands of tons of asteroid dust. We touch it. Eat it. Breathe it in. Given those facts, microbial colonization by a more aggressive extraterrestrial species seems more than possible. It’s inevitable.”

I cringed and slid into the banquette opposite him. “Are you saying we’re doomed?”

“That’s one way to look at it. But in reality, like I said earlier, we’ve already been colonized by thousands of different types of bacteria. They’re such a part of us now that humans can be categorized into three separate enterotypes.”

“Enterotypes?”

Grayson nodded. “They’re like blood types, but instead of human cells, they refer to the types of bacteria inhabiting our microbiomes. What’s fascinating about that is the distribution doesn’t appear to be related to geography, sex, or race.”

“Seriously?” I said. “How is that possible?”

Grayson shrugged. “It’s a mystery. Perhaps we’re actually nothing more than advanced biological hosts for microbes.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There are a thousand times more bacteria in us than there are stars in our galaxy. And hundreds of times more bacteria in our bodies than actual human cells. One could argue the idea that our own consciousness is merely a passenger inside a bacterial bus.”

My lip snarled. “How romantic.”

Grayson laughed. “On the bright side, if we ever do get superseded by bacteria, we probably won’t be aware of it. We’ll simply become the hapless hosts of the invaders, shuffling along, doing their bidding, totally unaware of what we’ve lost in the exchange.”

I locked eyes with Grayson. “You mean like Earl ... and those other guys.”

Grayson sighed. “Perhaps.”

“But you said there’s a chance probiotics could cure him.”

“Not necessarily cure. But perhaps lessen the symptoms.”

I straightened my sagging shoulders. “I want a cure.”

Grayson rubbed his chin. “To do that, we’d have to rid Earl’s body of all the bacteria in it.”

I perked up a bit—a feat considering how beat I was. I grabbed Grayson’s hand. “How can we do that?”

Grayson studied me for a moment. “I think I know a way. Look, why don’t you stretch out on that side of the banquette and try and get some rest.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Grayson smiled tiredly. “I’m going to order some stuff on Amazon.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

I woke up with a crick in my neck and second thoughts running through my mind.

Bacterial mind control? Seriously?

The only thing that made sense was the pot of coffee on the stove and the note Grayson had left next to it.

In the shower. Keep eye out for Amazon delivery.

I poured myself a cup and flopped back into the banquette that had been my beddy-bye for the night. Considering some of the dives we’d stayed at over the past eight months, the old vinyl booth wasn’t all that bad.

And then I realized Grayson wasn’t singing. The shower was running, but his mouth wasn’t.

Then I remembered Earl was in the back bedroom. He probably didn’t want to wake him. I tiptoed down the hall and pressed my ear against the door. Earl was snoring faintly.

Maybe he was going to be all right after all.

I smiled and tiptoed back past the bathroom. Just as I reached the main cabin, someone banged on the side door. I sprinted over to it and yanked it open.

“Mornin’, Miss Pandora!” Garth said.

“Shh!” I hissed, raising my finger to my lips. “Earl’s sleeping.”

Suddenly, from the back bedroom, Earl bellowed out the now familiar “Cruller Holler.”

Garth winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Never mind. Y’all come on in.”

“Maybe these’ll make up for it,” Jimmy said, and handed me a bag.

“Donuts?” I asked. “Seriously?”

I WAS FINISHING OFF my second with Garth and Jimmy when Grayson graced us with his presence. Somehow, he managed to look neat as a pin. I couldn’t say the same for me. Running on two cups of coffee and four hours sleep, I looked like I’d just finished the night shift at a Waffle House.

“Gentlemen,” Grayson said, tipping his fedora at us as he passed the banquette and made a beeline for the coffee.

“Uh, Grayson, we were just going over what we discussed last night,” I said.

“Oh, good,” he said, glancing at his phone.