Collaborative fan fiction - a parallel story

[conanjaguar]

First off, I would like to invite everyone who wrote for the original:

namely @Catlover, @upnorth, @Piotross, @piddy3825, and @Swippity_Swappity to join in. This will be a less “structured” story than the original, and occurs at the same time.

However, this tale will primarily focus on the events occurring on the Mainland.

[conanjaguar]

 It was a cold winter night, and the yet the inexhaustible disc jockeys of the
Stacy & Sons Oil Company radio station, boosted by strong, hot coffee (as well as some occasional barely-legal stimulants) continued with their monotonous task of switching between music and commercials, with intermittent announcements of their own mixed in. 

One of the men ended a cheery song to interrupt with the latest weather report. “This is Stacy Radio, on the air all day, every day.” He paused to clear his throat and grind out his cigarette and take a sip of coffee, then continued.
“Here’s the latest weather report of the day. It’s a clear night out there so far, but it’s a chilly -15 degrees out there. We’ve had some light snowfall in short flurries, but that’s not all there is to come. It appears that a major snowstorm, or even a blizzard, is brewing; temperatures could drop to as low as -25, and visibility will be almost nil. For those of you still on the road this time of night, I would suggest you return home, get a motel room, park the car and hole up at the nearest gas station, anything.” There was a note of urgency in his tone.

“I wo....t want .. b. cau... out .. . night ..ke th.s.” The voice on the radio was interrupted by bursts of crackling static. A short, stout man with a balding head covered by a warm toque pounded the dashboard of his truck in annoyance. “Stupid thing,” he grumbled under his breath. “There’s always some kind of interference.” 

It was then that his truck stalled, refusing to start, even after multiple tries. “Engine must have frozen up,” the man growled, digging around in the glove box for a spare bottle of antifreeze, finding it, and opening the door. “When it’s this cold, you- what the...?!” He had chanced to look up at the night sky. The heavens were ablaze with shades of unearthly light; shades of green, red, and violet danced in shimmering waves of color.

[conanjaguar]

Oh, and anyone who wants to can contribute to this tale, as long as it is in good taste and with fairly decent spelling/grammar.

[conanjaguar]

Sparks flew from every piece of electrical equipment in the radio station. The lights flared brightly; almost blindingly, and then every lights bulb exploded in a shore of broken glass, leaving the building in almost complete darkness. The only illumination was that of the moon and the aurora shining through the windows. 

“What the h*** just happened?” asked the burly man at the radio.

“Beats me if I know, Dave,” commented a thin, gangly man in a heavy overcoat much too big for him. “It must have been a power surge of some kind.” 

“Spike, look out there,” Dave gestured out the window. “Did you see a lightning bolt? Did you hear thunder?”

Spike shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that maybe a transformer somewhere down the line didn’t blow in a freak accident or something.” He pulled up the collar of his overcoat and shivered. “We’ve got more important things to worry about. It’s cold out there, Dave. Really damn cold. And I have a hunch that we won’t have electric heat for at least the rest of the night.”

[conanjaguar]

The stout man pounded in frustration on the hood of his unresponsive car. “Come on, you blasted stupid thing! Why don’t you start?”

His anger vented, he opened the hood of the car. Maybe one of the spark plugs is burned out or something, he thought. It was dark, but there was enough illumination for him to discern that the battery was dead.

No, he corrected himself. Not dead. Melted. 

 Indeed, what had once been the heart of the vehicle was now little more than a twisted, charred lump of slag. “What the devil?” he muttered to himself. Despite the batteries’ state, the “active” light was still on; apparently there was a current running through it. Tentatively, and bracing himself for a powerful shock, he found a nearby stick and tapped the battery. There was a slight “zap” of static electricity, but nothing more. 

 Perplexed, the man went back into the relative warmth of the car to call someone to tow him. As he grabbed his flip phone, he realized that it was hot to the touch! With a feeling of what he would find, he grabbed a nearby screwdriver and opened the battery case. As he suspected, the battery of his phone was slagged and fused as well. Taking the useless batteries out, he fumbled in the glove box for more. They were little more than slag, as well. He noted that, even though it had no battery, the screen of his phone was still on.

 Feeling a glimmer of hope, he tapped “911”. No response. He attempted to go to his messages, but there was no connection; the screen remained impassive.

“Ah, to hell with it,” he grumbled, tossing the useless phone over the backseat. “I’ll hike to town as soon as I catch my second wind.”

He closed his eyes, never to open them again.

[Admin]

Glad to see you continuing this. Thank you for posting!

[conanjaguar]

Dave poured himself another cup of hot black coffee, fresh from a pot by a clumsily-built fire, then offered some to Spike.

The thin man shook his head and made a theatrical gesture, as if to push the beverage away. “No thanks, man. I’ve had enough Joe in the last hour to last me a week!”

”Yeah, well, I don’t think the electricity is coming back on anytime soon. You know how it is out here; it can sometimes take a week for the linemen to get here and to fix the problem.” 

Spike looked out the window, his breath fogging the glass. “It really is kind of beautiful out there. I think I’ll go and get some fresh air.”

”Don’t go to far,” Dave cautioned him. “You’d be surprised how fast you can get hypothermia.”

Spike donned his jacket and opened the door. It was bitterly cold outside, but refreshing at the same time. The small cluster of buildings was dark; apparently the power failure had been widespread. ‘Guess I’ll go and fire up the generator,” Spike muttered to himself. “No point in everyone freezing because we’re unwilling to spend company money.”

As Spike walked over to the generator building, he spotted what looked to be Rusty, a burly who was husky the canine mascot of the small complex. “Hey Rusty,” he called. “Come here, boy!” There was no friendly bark or whine from the dog. Instead, there was a sharp, aggressive yap.

Wait, that’s not Rusty, Spike thought. That’s a wolf! Cursing under his breath, Spike slowly backed away from the animal, which he now noticed was glowing with an eerie light.

[upnorth]

Spike didn't take any chances, having nothing to defend himself with. He turned around and started to sprint back towards safety.

"Hey, back already, why are you so winded?" Dave asked as Spike quickly got in and shut the door behind him.

"There's!... there's!... there's a wolf out there! I thought it was Rusty so I didn't get away immediately. Damn thing almost managed to attack me!" Spike finally managed to get out while starting to recover from his winded condition.

"Ok, are you sure? I mean there probably are wolves around here but I've never heard of one running around near people" Dave replied with some skepticism.

"Yes I'm sure! The size difference alone makes them stand out!" Spike replied annoyed.

"Ok. Well, I think we might have an handgun around here somewhere. We'll wait for a bit and see if it leaves, but we're gonna have to get that generator going eventually..." Dave replied now slightly more concerned.

[Smol Alien]

Hey! Hope you guys don't mind me joining, I know I posted this on the other Collab fanfiction but I'd thought my character would work more here ))

 

As a light snow fell a young boy no older than 16 walked through the woods. He looked pale and tired but kept walking. He held a hatchet in one hand and a burnt out flare in the other.

 

Finn had been up the night before, looking for any signs of life or people. Day by day corpse by corpse he'd loose hope in finding another living being. 

 

The boy stopped upon seeing a trailer. The place he's called how for the last few days ever since the lights. 

 

Pushing open the door and slamming it shut he tossed his pack on the old bunk bed and sat down at his desk. Placing his hatchet on the table he looked at his left hand, now bloodied and torn from a wolf, his pinky and ring finger missing. 

 

Pulling the nearby first aid kit towards himself he opened it up to get the antiseptic and bandages. Wincing in pain and cursing as the antiseptic did it's work.

 

"Jesus that fucking hurt!" He said out loud to himself. Once the stinging sensation went away he wrapped the bandage around his hand, sighing in relief. 

[conanjaguar]

@Smol Alien

Thanks for the contribution! I sent you a DM a while back; we can talk about story ideas there if you like.

[conanjaguar]

“Found it!” Dave triumphantly brandished an ancient handgun in the air. It was a Colt M1911 semiautomatic pistol that his grandfather had brought home from fighting the Chicoms in the rugged highlands of Korea.

”Y’think it’ll still fire?” asked Spike. “Seriously, how is that thing not rusted shut? And how did you get in in here in the first place without Security busting your rear end?”

Dave grinned knowingly. “You’d be surprised at how knowing the right people can open doors for you. I even have a few extra clips around here somewhere.” After a few minutes of rummaging through his desk drawers, he came up with three full magazines for the .45. He slapped one in and, with a little bit of difficulty, racked the slide to chamber a round. “Now we can show that wolf who’s boss around here.”

”Wait a minute,” Spike said. “I’ll get us a bit of extra security.” He then proceeded to break the leg off one of the old-fashioned chairs, wrap a scrap piece of cloth around it, and doused it in whiskey, to which Dave returned a pained look. “Hey!” he complained. “I was saving that!” In response, Spike shrugged and stuck the tip of the improvised torch into the fire barrel. It caught fire instantly, blazing with a flickering orange light.

Nodding at each other, the two men drew their parkas tighter around themselves and opened the door. The wolf was pacing circles around the generator shack, seemingly trying to get in. As it noticed the two men, it growled sharply, then uttered a series of barks and charged at Dave, seemingly having no fear of the torch’s fire.

Dave brought up the .45 and squeezed off a series of shots. The first plowed into the snow, far off target. The second was closer, but still not a hit. As the wolf drew closer, Dave’s third round grazed it’s shoulder. It snarled and kept coming. Almost panicking, Dave shot a fourth round. It went true, catching the beast right between the eyes. Even though it was dead, it’s momentum kept it flying forward, to land at Spike’s feet, where it lay motionless.

”Damn,” Dave muttered as he ejected the clip and rammed in a fresh one. “Let’s hope that I get better at this, and that there aren’t any of his pals around.”

As if in answer, a long, mournful howl filled the night air.

[conanjaguar]

Rusty whines softly in a corner of the generator room. He too is feeling the itching, burning sensation, but it is not as bad for him as for the wolves outside. They know he’s in here, and they want him to join them or be eaten, he can tell it in the tone of their low growls.

There is a loud thump at the door, and Rusty hears splintering wood. It won’t be much longer now…

Now there is a succession of loud, explosive bangs, followed by whimpering sounds. There is silence for a few seconds, then hurried footsteps. Human footsteps.

***

The black wolf pricked up his ears at the gunshots. Under normal circumstances, the sound would have driven him further into the forest, but tonight, he was hurting like he had never hurt before. His fur was standing on end, and an annoying tingling sensation all along his skin was driving him crazy with pain. He needed to vent his rage on something. He just wanted to kill, and so did the rest of the pack. He barked twice, then made a low, menacing growl deep in his throat. Kill everything in our way; anything that moves. Especially if it has two legs.

As one, the pack howled their acknowledgment of the order. Tonight, the pack would feast.