Al Macy writes because he has stories to tell. In school, he was the class clown and always the first volunteer for show and tell. His teachers would say, "Al has a lot of imagination." Then they'd roll their eyes.

But he put his storytelling on the back burner until he retired and wrote a blog about his efforts to improve his piano sight-reading. That's when his love of storytelling burbled up to the surface, along with quirky words like "burble."

He had even more fun writing his second book, Drive, Ride, Repeat, but was bummed by non-fiction's need to stick to "the truth" (yucko). From then on it was fiction all the way, with a good dose of his science background burbling to the surface.

Macy's top priority is compelling storylines with satisfying plot twists, but he never neglects character development. No, wait … his top priority is quirkiness, then compelling storylines, then character development. No, wait …

Contact Us by Al Macy

On May 22, 2018, every person on Earth sneezes. Simultaneously.

Hours later, an alien spacecraft appears over New York City and broadcasts a dire message of impending doom. The future of the human race will depend on the whims of a solitary extraterrestrial who appears in the form of Walter Cronkite. Yes, that's right, Walter Cronkite, the deceased news anchor.

Ex-FBI troubleshooter Jake Corby has faked his death and dropped out of sight, living like a hermit in a small town. But the president is convinced Corby's still alive. He wants Jake, with his unique problem-solving skills, added to the team that will try to defeat the strange but powerful alien. Jake needs to overcome his introvert tendencies if he's going to help save the planet.

The alien has some nasty surprises for the residents of Earth, and the race is on to figure out his true motives and the meaning of the sneeze event—before it's too late.

CURATOR'S NOTE

On May 22, 2018, every person on Earth sneezes. Simultaneously. Then an alien appears over New York in the form of Walter Cronkite. Al Macy delivers quirky, fun sci-fi with a retired FBI troubleshooter dragged back into action to save the planet. You'll chuckle, you'll fret, you won't want to put it down. – M.G. Herron

 

REVIEWS

  • "I enjoyed this story and look forward to reading the next book. Great writing that produced an interesting and different type of alien invasion"

    – Amazon review

  • "I enjoyed the plot, humor and twists that the book provided. This is something that I normally don't pick but I am glad I did...!!!!"

    – Amazon review

  • "You have to have a sense of humor to write a book where an alien invader looks like Walter Cronkite, right? I had no idea what to expect when I got this book and was pleasantly surprised with the results. The writing is funny and reading this has been a pleasure. From a Walter Cronkite alien to ray guns and an earth in turmoil, you'll enjoy this fun read and I look forward to the next in this series."

    – Amazon review
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

On May 22, 2018, every person on Earth sneezed. Simultaneously. It happened at twenty seconds after 3:01 p.m., Washington time.

Ten minutes pre-sneeze, Charli Keller had taken her seat directly behind the president of the United States. She was his top adviser and at thirty-four, the youngest person ever to hold that position. Wearing a pencil skirt and an open-necked blouse, she took her place in what she called "brain trust row." Time for another dull U.S. Cabinet meeting. She'd had a premonition that today's meeting would be different but she dismissed it—she didn't believe in premonitions.

Charli exchanged smiles with the other advisers. No daydreaming allowed here. President Hallstrom could turn to her at any moment: "What do you think, Charli?" One response like "Whoops. Oh gee, sorry, I wasn't paying attention," and her reputation as the smartest person in the room would fly out the White House windows.

She was paying attention to the latest economic figures when she, and everyone around her, sneezed. A-choo. Wait. Hold on. She froze with her head down and her sleeve against her mouth. Did everyone in the room sneeze at the same time? Impossible. She raised her head and looked around. The only sound was the tick of the antique clock on the mantel. The White House photographer snapped shot after shot of slack jaws and puzzled frowns. Everyone looked to the president.

Hallstrom scanned the room. Instead of his trademark smile and happy crow's feet he wore a deep frown. "Okay, folks, what just happened?" Silence. After a few seconds, he turned around. "What do you think, Charli?"

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and stood up. This job just got a lot more interesting. "Is there anyone here who did not sneeze?" Nothing. She stepped to the window, pushed aside the drapes, and looked out. Three groundskeepers stood together laughing.

She turned back. "Mr. President, it would seem that everyone in this room sneezed at precisely the same moment. Precisely. That wouldn't have happened if it were something in the air. Something truly strange has happened." She was standing right beside the president's chair now.

Hallstrom looked up at her. "Is it serious? Is it something we need to be concerned with?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Someone or something made forty people, in a high-security location I might add, sneeze simultaneously. Sure, sneezing is a funny, mundane kind of thing, but this is serious. Especially if, as I suspect, it didn't only happen here." The laughing groundskeepers suggested that it happened outside, too. Forty people sneezing simultaneously is stunning. Three people at once, just funny.

The secretary of labor, an angry bull of a man, rose out of his chair and placed his fists on the table. "Now hang on there, Miss …"

People who didn't know Charli saw only her limited height and slim figure. She had to constantly prove that she was more than that. Blonde woman's burden.

"We all sneezed. Biggus dealus." The old bull stared at her. Was that steam coming out of his nose?

Charli crossed her arms. A direct confrontation. Good! Time to put this guy in his place. Unfortunately, her cheeks weren't on the same page. The heat rose into them. Control it. Breathe.

"Mr. Secretary do you know of any person or machine that can make even two people sneeze at exactly the same moment?" She stared him down. "I don't believe in God, paranormals, or alien creatures visiting Earth, but there is something here that goes beyond normal. If someone could make forty people sneeze he or she could make them choke and could make them die. This could be a serious threat to—"

"Aw, give me a break. Serious threat to the country. It was just a goddamned sneeze. You—" The labor secretary jackknifed onto the table and convulsed into a rigid fetal position, clamping the table between his head and knees. A human Vise-Grips.

Every cell in Charli's body flashed with pain. Some around her grimaced, but others contorted and danced like marionettes in a hurricane. Then the misery stopped. Completely. The secretary of labor unfastened from the table and slid back into his chair.

Hallstrom jumped to his feet. "What the hell is going on?" He looked around, then at his pants, and sat down. Charli peeked over the edge of his chair before taking her seat. Yes, he'd lost control of his bladder. Hallstrom said it again. She could scarcely hear him this time. "What the hell is going on?"

Everyone was now talking at once, some standing, some sitting. Others who had soiled themselves were desperate to keep their condition secret. The dominant scent in the cabinet room was usually furniture polish. Not any longer.