The SSSS Scriptorium

[LooNEY_DAC]

Sorting the Last Bookshelf
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent” fanfic

Spoiler: show

Day 95
The lights flickered as he slipped the book into the plastic sheathing, neatly sealing it away from the elements. He had to work more quickly; there was only one shelf yet to go before his work would be complete. He’d been lucky that the power had held out even this long, and the irony of a librarian shuffling his books in the dark was not lost on him.

He had no idea why he’d started this undertaking, but it was nearly complete. Everything else was packed and sealed and stored away against the day the library would reopen; a day that might never come. Certainly, the library had seen fewer and fewer comings and goings, even before the Illness had flared up--was it only three months ago?

Around one in every twenty had failed to fall to the disease since its rampage began, but those were still far too few even to tend to the dying, let alone to try to keep everything running, so, bit by bit, things had stopped. No, it was more apt to say that they had all wound down, like a mechanical clock without a key.

As his fingers robotically went through the motions of securing the next tome in plastic, his mind replayed bits of dialogue from an old television show: “The Obsolete Man”, an episode from the old Rod Serling series “The Twilight Zone”.

“Since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian... You are obsolete, Mr. Wordsworth.”

He felt obsolete, if obsolescence brought with it weariness, loneliness, pain and hunger. The last book slipped into its sleeve, and he stood up both slowly and painfully. No one was coming. He was the only one left alive in the town, or perhaps the entire area. The despair of it all washed over him anew as the lights flickered again, until, just as they went out at last, another snatch from that show came to him.

“I’m a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I’ve been shoveled into my grave!”

Brave words, he thought as he made his way through the stacks, the emergency lighting all there was to guide him, but were they yet true? Could he, through this last week’s effort, actually have done something that had a life beyond his own? He’d never know, but he could hope, of course.

Briskly, he locked the doors behind him and set out into the snow. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about what he’d do now that he’d finished.

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

Suggested by this.

[Róisín]

Great, LooNEY! A beautiful little vignette. Thank you!

[Buteo]

Well done, indeed, LooNEY.
You seem to have an impressive feel for this world, and for what it would do to the people in it, and what they would do in response.

[Russet]

JOIN ME IN "SIGRUN KILLED BY TEAMMATE" HELL
we don't have cookies but we do have sin

SIN IS ALL WE NEED MY FRIEND
The funny thing is that Sigrun is one of my favourite characters...
Also, all the new works are amazing. You are all beautiful human beings(!!!).

[AquaAurion]

XD you basically just read my mind. That's a little scary.

Oh no, my psychic powers are showing! \（　ﾟДﾟ）/
I actually did the same to someone else at the forum a while back XD Our minds are fusing!

[Viisikielinenkantele]

Wow, LooNEY, I cannot express just how much I love your stories!

Solovei, this was so spot on! Thank you for sharing it!

[daiseerose]

Spoiler: show

Chapter two

 The ground was cool under Emil’s throbbing head, making his head numb, and soothing the pain away.  He got up and looked around, wondering how he got here and  not remembering what happened.  he tried to stand up, but a sudden burning pain in his head stopped him.
He forced himself to stand up, using trees and other things to support him.  After resting for a bit, he chose to go north, guessing  that that was the direction of the cat tank, and trying to remember how he even gotten here in the first place.  Was he sleepwalking?  He doubted it, how did he even get hurt in the first place if he was sleepwalking?  The pain was so overwhelming that Emil couldn’t even think straight. He had to use trees to support him,  his thoughts were muddled, but he was still trying to find his way back and figure out what had happened.

 He went on for about a mile until he stumbled upon a piece of cloth, which looked suspiciously familiar.  Emil stumbled towards it, letting go of his supportive tree, and crawling towards the scrap.  The piece of cloth was  highly durable, and was white, with black lining the outside of it . Emil turned it over, and  the  was red with blood. The blood was dried, but spots were still wet.

Then, he remembered.

Lalli

  In a rush, Emil remembered. He remembered the troll, the gun shots echoing through the sad deserted town, and lastly, he remembered the sounds of trolls coming.   He immediately thought of what happened, and where Lalli was.  He didn’t remember anything after the sound of the trolls, and he hoped Lalli was okay.  Emil carried on, using trees to support him, while also trying to think about where Lalli could be, which was hard when his head was hurting this much. He carried along for hours, going back towards what he thought they came from, hoping to find some clues- anything really- to find the mage.

  It was dawn before he found a place to rest at, still no signs that Lalli was anywhere near here. no foot prints in the damp ground, no grass that was smashed down by shoes.  Nothing.  Emil slumped down to the ground, defeated.  He had no idea where to look, for all he knew, Lalli could be prancing around in the forest, miles away. He wished that he could have left something behind, anything really. He had no idea where to go from here, all his military training was forgotten. 

  Everything in the Silent World looked the same.The same dead trees, the terrain, and even the few animals that he had passed looked the same.  With a sigh, Emil decided to just rest for the day, as he was of no use tired.  He gathered up some dry leaves that  had fallen from the trees, and pushed them into a pile under a tree to sleep on.  The sun was setting, making the air cooler.  The tree’s leaves were almost gone, leaving  the branches naked, reminding every living thing that winter was near. The  roots  were above ground, making little hollows, in which Emil decided to sleep in . Once situated, Emil laid down, his arms crossing his torso, trying to keep in the heat.  Sleep immediately took him into a deep slumber.


~
  Lalli stumbled through the woods, and for the first time in his life, he was frightened. He had never felt this way before, not when the trolls overcame their village, not even  when they were homeless.  Lalli had dumped Emil by a tree, and faced the troll, trying to lure it away from the Swede. That was hours ago,  and he was starting to feel even more tired.  He hadn’t slept in a day, on top of having to drag the heavy Swede away. 

  Lalli sighed, and stopped. He might as well stop, the Swede was probably not going anywhere.  He actually might already be dead, either from his head wound, or attacked by some rash monstrosity. The thought made Lalli uneasy for some reason.  The thought of him being dead was... unsettling. Lalli  shook the thought away.  If he was dead he would have to carry him back, and that would not be pleasant, because he would have to protect himself, and carry the blonde.  Lalli sighed again, settling down in the leaves, and curling up into a ball.

~

 eyes shifted through the night, making sure no one was near enough to see him. not that it mattered anyways, no one came near him. and if they did, ttthey would regret it.  he laughed silently to himself, watching his latest victim sleeping.  how he missed the taste of live flesssh! but he would have to wait, as his lunch has a companion sssomewhere, and he would lead him right to it, making it even better.  though, the other one would be lesss fressh, as hiss head wound let out all the fresh blood out, he mused to himself.  oh well, lunch was lunch.  and boy, would thosse two be good onesss!.

second chapter to my fanfic.

[Fenris]

Well, wrote up a thing. Just started out on it, but going to be a story set in north-western Russia in year 60, pretty much inspired by Ruth's Canadian one. Map in second page made by Ruth.

[LooNEY_DAC]

Uh, oh… I seem to have been inspired.

The Good, the Bad, and the Bestial
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/Western crossover fanfic
Part 1

Spoiler: show

The Gathering of the Band of Six

“Not a chance, Taru,” Onni Talks-to-Spirits said. “They’re not going.”

“Who asked you?” The question erupted from Taru Walks-the-World and Tuuri Face-Like-Baby simultaneously.

“Hi.” Lalli Ghost-of-Forest appeared with his usual stealth. With incredible despatch, Tuuri bundled him into the waiting stagecoach, climbing in after him.

“Look, I’m taking these two to Milwaukee, and that’s that.” Having tired of the stick, Taru extended the carrot. “You can come with us, you know. We can find something for you to do that won’t mean... mingling.”

For a moment, Onni looked tempted; then, he looked agonized. “I can’t.”

Taru nodded. “Then, farewell, Onni Talks-to-Spirits.” She nodded at the driver, who whipped up the horses.

“Don’t worry, Big Brother,” Tuuri called as they pulled away. “We’ll be back before the New Year.”

*

Milwaukee was the biggest, most bustling place Tuuri had ever seen; so much so that getting to the Westbrooks’ place seemed a nice respite, at least after the kids were sloughed off. This was one time when she was certain Lalli felt exactly as she did.

She was a little dubious about their new team-mate, Emil “the Dude”--the sobriquet had leapt into her mind when she first saw him and simply stuck there. Sometimes he was frightfully arrogant, but then he’d turn around and do something really nice. Lalli seemed to be warming to him unusually fast, too, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either.

Then they told Tuuri that they’d meet up with the two senior members of the team down in Council Bluffs before heading out further West to their “target”, somewhere in the depths of the Wyoming Territory, and she was a bit reassured.

“Captain Eide’s a woman. That won’t be a problem for you, will it, Emil?”

“Man, woman, red, black, yellow or white: if she’s as good as you’ve said, I’ll follow her.”

That settled, they went to the train station.

*

The first leg of their journey, to Chicago, had passed without incident, aside from Lalli displaying a peculiar reluctance to board their next train. After a bit of time to himself, though, he’d bounded to join them, and all was well.

They were only a few hours out of Chicago when the bandits attacked. The train guards had jumped right into action, though, and the few who’d boarded were quickly cut down, but not before Lalli & Emil had blundered into the middle of the shoot-out.

Oddly enough, one of the dying bandits had recognized Emil, going so far as to try to grab hold of him. Emil had promptly screamed like a girl--and decked the bandit like a man. He then herded Lalli back to their bunks and passed out.

*

When they reached Council Bluffs, they had to switch trains again, but on this next leg, they’d be joined by their leader, the fearless Captain Eide, and their medic, Doc Madsen. They were really, really, really tall; in fact, Tuuri had never met two people as tall as they were.

Aside from extreme height, though, the two of them couldn’t have been more different: where Sigrun was brash, decisive and talkative (Tuuri later concluded that Sigrun’s rapid chatter was really one of her best weapons), Mikkel was cautious, contemplative and very nearly as taciturn as Lalli.

Their mission remained a secret, though, until they finally left the train in Green River, ready to strike north.

*

“Two and a half years ago, the Westbrook family fortune was entrusted to a Wyoming prospector who had literally stumbled into a fortune--a fortune in sapphires and rubies. All he needed, said he, was the funding to start mining and the gems would flow like water from a pump.” Emil paused. “Now, the way tales like this usually end is that the ‘prospector’ vanishes with all the money, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of his false promises. Instead, he brought us all out to see the mine and to sign ‘a few unimportant forms appurtenant to the venture’. Those forms gave him everything and left us with a pittance--barely a cent on each dollar that had been invested. But that isn’t the worst of it. According to my uncle, the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] is using slave labor to work the mines.”

A gasp sounded outside their window. A six-shooter appeared in Sigrun’s hand, but before she could do anything else, a tall, gangly red-headed boy with a long braid crashed into the room. Through the shattered window, Tuuri could see Lalli looking smug.

“Great,” Sigrun commented grimly, “a spy.”

After some very fast talking by the lurker (Reynir Arnason, a runaway from the family farm just trying to see the world--who’d gotten stuck in Green River with no money, food, or prospects), Sigrun had agreed to bring him along “to help care for the horses”.

Well, at least they were on their way, moving north along the Green River as fast as they dared.

What awaited them, however, was more than they’d planned on...

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

This is all Sunflower’s fault; it’s her fault, I tell you!

[Buteo]

Looney, never mind trying to assign blame - keep writing!
Your fanfics are gems!

[Róisín]

LooNEY, you continue to astonish and delight me. 'Westbrook' heheheh! Should be fun! I trust you ARE going to continue?

[Sunflower]

Uh, oh… I seem to have been inspired.

The Good, the Bad, and the Bestial
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/Western crossover fanfic
Part 1

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

This is all Sunflower’s fault; it’s her fault, I tell you!

Spoiler: sunflower smirks and curtsies prettily • show

I love it!  I like how neatly you found Western parallels for our SSSS characters ("Taru Walks-the-World" and "Lalli Ghost-in-the-Forest" are priceless).  And I also like how you didn't hesitate to strike out into new territory, e.g. the prospective rewards and dangers in your crew's quest.

Only... where is Trond?  Scarred old veteran of the Mexican Wars, still lurking out there on the frontier?  Calculating banker, willing to provide *limited* funding for this venture as long as he gets to help plan it? 

[Sunflower]

Well, wrote up a thing. Just started out on it, but going to be a story set in north-western Russia in year 60, pretty much inspired by Ruth's Canadian one. Map in second page made by Ruth.

It's amazing!  A whole Russian epic novel in the making!  I can hardly wait for Chapter 4.

How did you get the ideas for your various survivor groups and cultures?
Also, were you always interested in Russia?

[LooNEY_DAC]

The Good, the Bad, and the Bestial
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/Western crossover fanfic
Part 2

Spoiler: show

To Add Munitions

Tuuri expertly brought the Conestoga and its team to a halt a few yards from the shack. “Very nice,” Emil admired. “That’s the kind of driving we’ll need once we’ve picked up our load of nitro here.” Tuuri’s eyes went wide and she swallowed hard, but Emil had turned away to talk to the Captain. Even Tuuri had heard of how volatile nitroglycerine was, and the thought of having to coax a full load of it down the valley was--intimidating.

At any rate, this was where they were to get Emil’s explosives, and Sigrun figured she, Emil and Lalli could handle that. Tuuri liked the idea of keeping as far away from the big pile of explosives as she could for as long as she could, and Reynir was a bit too bouncy for his help to be given serious consideration. Naturally, Mikkel would stay back to keep a watchful eye on the two of them, so that was settled.

“Mikkel,” Tuuri said, watching Reynir make the horse team’s acquaintance after Sigrun, Emil and Lalli had left, “I’ve been thinking, and something still puzzles me: who was that bald man with you when we met? And how (and why) did Taru get involved in this so as to bring us in on it?”

“The man was Trond Andersen, a militia general in the War. The Westbrooks found him and Taru when their funds came up just short of the amount they needed to get the mines running; after the swindle, the two of them were only too happy to recruit us and fund this jaunt to secure a bigger piece of the mines for themselves. The Westbrooks will still have what they were to when they put their cash up, and a bit more, so they’re fine with that arrangement. Trond mostly arranged for our supplies, like the ones they’re fetching now.”

*

“There’s something wrong,” Emil announced, his face puzzled.

“Good boy,” Sigrun applauded him. “I was wondering if you would see it.”

“Are we both thinking that the pile has been rigged to blow when we move it?” Emil asked.

Sigrun nodded coolly. “I was thinking the detonator is probably under there.” She gestured at a likely spot.

“Maybe--lemme get down for a better look,” Emil said. “Ah. Yes, and no.”

“What?”

“I think whoever set this up outsmarted themselves. They wanted multiple trigger points to be sure we would trip at least one, but they only had the one detonator, so they rigged up a nice little spiderweb here under the table. Now, if I can cut the web like so--” A soft snip sounded, and he smiled. “We’re clear to pack the stuff out.”

*

Lalli looked up drowsily at Emil’s yell. Well, that was amazing. For all his yelling, the fancy pants hadn’t jerked back or jumped or anything like that, which, while natural when you just trod on some dead guy, would mean disaster for someone loaded down with nitro like Emil. Sigrun calmed him and aided him out, and they called for Lalli to come with his share.

“We need to scout out this place,” Sigrun announced once Mikkel was safely loading the wagon. “That body was too fresh for my taste, and I’ve been itching to get my hands on whoever tried to blow us to Kingdom Come back there.” She gave Emil the main shack to look over, Lalli the back, and saved the front barn for herself.

*

“SigRUN!!!” Emil called, his knife buried in the goon’s shoulder as the bandit doggedly tried to get his hands around Emil’s neck.

Bare seconds later, Sigrun had stabbed the goon through the heart and pulled his body from Emil. “Let’s go!” she snapped, but Emil had something else in mind.

The first goon had shaken off the bash Emil had given him with the lantern and was coming at them, so Emil stuffed a kerchief in the lantern base, lit it, and threw it at the goon with a cry of, “Catch!”

The kerosene in the lantern all went up at once, the percussion being enough to set off what was left of the nitro in the other room.

*

KA-THUMMM

Mikkel was facing away from the shack when it blew up, so he didn’t get any serious hurts. “Tuuri! Reynir! Time to go!” he yelled before moving to meet the figures emerging from the smoke. Sigrun and Emil were propping each other up and coughing, but they didn’t look to be needing any doctoring. “Where’s Lalli?”

“Hi.” Lalli spoke from behind them, making them all jump. Then he glared at Emil and went back to the wagon. The other three followed, and Tuuri drove them away from the flaming wreckage as fast as she dared.

It wouldn’t be the last time...

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

That first part is AKA “Stuff I Couldn’t Fit in Part 1”, which hopefully answers Sunflower’s questions.

Has anyone guessed which Western I’m blatantly ripping off homaging here yet? The next part should make it obvious.

[LooNEY_DAC]

Aaaaaaand Part 2 was met with complete silence.

* LooNEY_DAC swallows nervously.

Well, here's Part 3 anyway.

The Good, the Bad, and the Bestial
A “Stand Still. Stay Silent”/Western crossover fanfic
Part 3

Spoiler: show

Wagons of War, and How to Employ Them

It wasn’t until they’d left the river valley at the point where it forked to strike along a well-traveled path leading north that they held a true council of war. This time, Sigrun did most of the talking.

“Russet and his gang--they’re the ones running the mines--use heavy ironclad wagons, each with a turret-mounted Gatling gun, to ship loads of gems from the mine and pick up fresh slaves from points south.” Sigrun paused. “We’re going to capture one and use it to bust into the mine area.”

“There’s a bridge across a ravine up ahead,” Emil put in. “Blow that while a wagon’s on it, and we can take it for ourselves.”

Sigrun nodded and continued. “When Trond discreetly contacted some of the Arapaho who live nearby, they seemed amenable to faking an attack on one of the shipments, if properly recompensed.” Tuuri snorted derisively, but Sigrun let it pass. “All we had to do was tell them where and when to strike, which I did when we were in town, and so the trap is set.”

“Seems simple enough,” Mikkel rumbled. Lalli nodded thoughtfully.

“With the wagon as our ‘Trojan Horse’, we should be able to gain entry to the mines with ease, where part two begins. After we get inside the main complex, Lalli, Emil and I will take out the guards, find this Russet and get him to sign some new papers, while Mikkel helps the slaves flee. Shortly afterwards, there will be a ‘tragic accident’ that claims Russet’s life so he won’t run squealing to his buddies.”

“Murder?” Mikkel queried, a bit sadly.

“Justice,” Sigrun hissed back. “Justice for all those he’s worked to death already, and for those he intends to.”

“He’s in bed with what ‘law’ there is hereabouts,” Emil pointed out. “That’s how he justifies his slaves--they’re ‘convicts at hard labor’, never mind that most were abducted and brought here by force.”

Mikkel sighed. “Have it your own way, then.”

*

Emil had only been away for half an hour or so when Lalli rode back furiously from his rearguard position. Something was obviously wrong, and perhaps disastrously so, for Lalli to leave his post like that.

Lalli slowed his horse as he neared their Conestoga. Tossing Reynir the reins, he leapt from the saddle and all but flew to the map table Sigrun and Tuuri were standing by.

Sigrun looked at Tuuri inquisitively. “There’s a slave wagon on the way,” Tuuri translated. “They’re coming fast enough to spring the trap early.”

Mikkel bit off a curse, and Sigrun frowned. Tuuri, however, had had an inspiration.

“I think we can take this bunch without killing the slaves,” Tuuri told Sigrun.

*

The morning slave run rounded another curve a mile or so from the bridge, only to find that a great mass of wood girders and trusses and such sprawled untidily across the road before it, making it impracticable unless cleared. The wagon perforce stopped, the turret swiveling to and fro as the driver and one of the guards exited to move the obstruction away.

Before the door swung shut, Lalli put a bullet through the turret man’s forehead, while a grenade from Emil took down the two outside and Sigrun forced her way in. It was over before it had really begun, but now there were a bunch of slaves to see to.

*

An hour or so later, Emil swaggered back to the camp triumphantly, and stopped dead in dismay when he saw the ironclad. “Wait. I just spent all those hours rigging that bridge to blow... for nothing?”

“It’ll keep anyone from following us?” Tuuri offered apologetically. Then she frowned. “How are we supposed to get across ourselves?”

Sigrun grinned down at Tuuri from her perch at the turret gun. “Just take it slow and easy and we’ll be fine.”

*

They had passed the halfway mark on the bridge when the horsemen rode in on the attack. “Wait, that’s not right,” Sigrun protested, her brow furrowing. “They’re coming from the wrong direction, and at the wrong time--Hey! Those [EXPLETIVE DELETED] redskins have turned traitor on us!”

“I told you we shouldn’t trust them,” Turri muttered. “Those pure-bloods--” she made it an epithet “--never keep their word. Not the Arapaho.”

“Whatever you do, make sure the horses don’t bolt,” Emil cautioned. “I’ll tell when it’s safe to spring ‘em.”

Tuuri gave him an amused glance at “spring ‘em”, but otherwise kept calm. The horsemen drew closer and closer as the wagon creaked ever so slowly across the bridge. Arrows were beginning to bounce off of the iron plating in earnest now, but the attackers seemed determined to avoid hitting the horses, mercifully.

“OK, now!” Emil yelled, and Tuuri whipped up the horses, just as two of their pursuers sped onto the bridge.

The explosion did exactly what Emil had meant for it to do: launch everything ahead of a certain point on the bridge back to the side they’d started on. The ironclad wagon would have more or less survived. The horsemen decidedly did not.

Tuuri barely managed to get the now totally panicked horses under enough control to get them on the road from the crumbling remnants of the bridge, but she did manage it. That was when Sigrun decided to vent her spleen by ventilating their attackers with a few judicious bursts from the Gatling gun.

“Thus e’er to traitors,” Sigrun growled as they pulled away.

Spoiler:  Authorial Notes • show

I was really surprised at how easily and well “The War Wagon’s” plot meshed with the events of Book One and Chapter Six (with some judicious rearrangement).

Next: Taking the Mine! (Which isn’t necessarily the end, btw.)