Duck and Cover

I stared into infinity. How many times had I been here before?

"How many times have you been here before?" his impossibly deep voice rumbled out of the darkness. I opened my other eye and the blinding unhindered glare of the midday wastes washed away the infinity.

I was on the business end of the largest revolver I had ever seen. I could easily fit two fingers down its bore with room to spare. More a cannon than a gun, it easily fit into the hand of the giant that loomed over me. His face was hidden by the glare of the sun, but I knew what he looked like�I had been here before. I crouched in the dust, barely recovered from the impacts that had landed around me mere moments before.

I had been here too many times.

“Shit.� I decided I could not talk my way out of this. Two of my hired killers lay in the dust, oozing testaments of the overkill caliber of this mans weapon. I could see three of the five rounds remaining in its unusual cylinder. Rounds large enough to tear a man in half, and one of these was perched at the end of a too-short length of barrel, just waiting to visit my head.

“I know I promised your mother…� the rumbling voice spoke from the glare of the sun. He trailed off and I tried to swallow the rage down a dry throat. His gun still pointed at my eye, never shaking, never wavering from its rock-solid aim.

Where the hell was Murry? I wished he would stop fucking his woman up in the rocks and look through his ancient scope. He was one hell of a deadeye, but only if he was looking. A fat bead of sweat rolled down the side of my head, stubbornly refusing to evaporate despite the intense heat.

“But I can only stand you trying to kill me so many times before I lose my patience.� The last rumbling words was marked with a high whistle followed by a meaty thunk.

That was bad.

The wall of a giant grunted and dropped to one knee, swiveling around so he was crouched next to me. In the same motion his revolver cut through the air and pointed with inhuman steadiness at the outcropping of rock almost a kilometer away. A low peal of thunder began rolling in and was overwhelmed by two rapid explosions that threatened to split my universe in half.

“Impossible� I croaked. I knew better, I had seen him work miracles before. Murry and his bitch were dead now. I moved to get up but his free hand closed around my neck. I could see his blood running down the length of his massively hairy arm, but he seemed unphased. That was not a small rifle that Murry had been carrying around the last week, and I could see where the bullet had hit, oh-so close to his heart.

He pushed me down to the ground and loomed over me in the intense heat. Once again I was staring down the length of his massive handcannon. He thumbed the hammer back and the final slug wheeled into line. There was enough light reflecting off of my face that I could see to the end of infinity; down a spiraling tunnel of gleaming groves lay a dull certainty.

“One left.� I said. It was time to try and talk my way out of this.

The giant sighed. I had felt earthquakes before, I had even seen this man work miracles, but I had never heard him sigh.

I preferred the earthquakes.

I began to shake uncontrollably.

“Goodbye, old friend.� He rumbled through the glare of the merciless sun. The muscles along his arm tensed and his massive hand squeezed the trigger. With a click there was nothing.

Very nice. It begs elaboration.

Also Murray.

Very Falloutish

Part II: don't hold your breath.


Brother Firmin set the torch in a bracket next to the heavy oak door. Fire was not allowed below in the crypts and any light he would receive would have to come from the doorway. He lit a second torch and placed it in the bracket on the other side of the door. He stood back and examined the flames briefly.

At first the door would not give--this was expected, the door was not latched but would become firmly seated in place when closed. Firmin put his shoulder to the door and it finally gave with a groan. He pushed it all the way open and wedged it with a stone block.

Just off the main alcove down a brief set of stairs lay the chest he was after. Brother Firmin crouched down next to it and ran a careful finger along its surface, scribing a deep groove in the layers of dust. The crypts had been used for storage for a very long time now, so long that anyone he asked had only a vague idea of how much stuff had actually accumulated. Centuries was the best guess. He shifted his position and waited a little longer for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

The chest was not locked, the clasp was dogged with an ancient wooden peg. This was why he had returned. A firm pull and the chest was ready to be opened. Firmin eyed the layers of dust, took a deep breath and lifted the top of the chest. His actions kicked up a large amount of dust and he closed his eyes against it.

He held his breath as long as he could, and then some. Finally the dust settled down and he was able to look into the chest. He found some scraps of what must have been clothing. By the look of them they had not been in much better shape when they were still warn; coarse stitches and patches of leather were clues to a very lengthy maintenance. He was shifting the clothing around, looking for anything more interesting when he spotted a flat patch of tightly stretched leather.

A bound book! Firmin grinned in the darkness and gingerly extracted the ancient book from the chest. In his excitement he almost opened his new treasure, but remembered some of his teachings in time. Even though the binding looks to be in good condition the storage and treatment of the pages within might not have been good enough to keep them from turning brittle and useless. You had to be careful with an ancient book.

He looked carefully at it and decided he would bring it to Brother Kurt.


Clutching the book under an arm Brother Firmin knocked at the door.

“Just a moment!� Came the reply from within. Firmin knew he would have to try again shortly, but that he must be patient first. He looked at the cover of his new book, turning it over in his hands. There was no title or other markings that would give away what was contained within.

Firmin raised his arm and knocked at the door again.

“Yes, yes…� was the clipped response. A brief pause was followed by an invitation to enter. Firmin slowly pushed the door open. Brother Kurt sat in the darkness hunched over two large books surrounded by half a dozen brightly burning candles. The light illuminated his graying hair and a bobbing quill.

“Just let me finish this entry.� Mumbled Brother Kurt. Firmin shuffled into a better position where he could make out the pages of the think volumes atop the desk. Brother Kurt flipped a page in the book on his left and then precisely scribed a line in the book to his right. Firmin would have to time his interruption or Kurt would become quite angry. He would be angry anyways but Kurt would choose the lesser of two evils if he could. Brother Kurt turned the page, paused briefly and then scribed another line into his right-hand book.

Brother Firmin cleared his throat to attract Brother Kurt’s attention. The older man looked up and squinted. He put his quill down and frowned.

Brother Kurt looked at Firmin for a brief time and then straightened up from his hunch and stretched his arms, various joints protested his movements with loud pops.

“What can I do for you young Firmin?� He asked. His frown rapidly disappeared and was replaced by a much more scholarly expression. “Are you looking for another lesion this late in the night?� Firmin held out his new book for Kurt to see.

“I found this down in the Crypt just now.� Brother Kurt opened his eyes wider, he had not seen this book before. He carefully took it from Firmin and began inspecting it. He made a few surprised sounds to himself.

“A journal by the looks of the binding, and quite old I might add!� Firmin could tell that Brother Kurt was quite interested in this book. “Ah, it seems to be quite excellently preserved, too.� He opened it and rapidly scanned a few pages before placing it down on his desk. He looked at Firmin.

“Brother Kurt, I should like to read this book.� The older man nodded to Firmin and indicated he should take the book with a wave of his hand.

“I am quite busy, I see no harm in that. Now I must get back to my Indexes, the job is a mighty one and Loren the Elder was correct in charging me with this duty. I suggest you take this to Hagen the Elder, he would be very interested in this journal.�

“Thank you Brother Kurt.� Firmin bowed briefly and headed for the door.

“Hagen also will give you your list of lessons for tomorrow!� Brother Kurt called out. Firmin ducked as though he were cuffed and closed the door on his way out.


Hagen the Elder welcomed Brother Firmin into his chambers. He sat in his ancient chair with a hefty book open in his lap and several others perched atop piled of books serving as tables.

“Brother Firmin, I was just cross referencing these Tomes. They are each a different account of the same ancient battle. Quite fascinating comparing the differences. Your lessons for tomorrow are over on that table, I have included a well written account of this battle as an introduction. I will see that you receive a well rounded historical learning.�

Firmin looked over to the table at which Hagen the Elder pointed. Atop it lay a stack of books underneath a slip of paper.

“Hagen the Elder, Brother Kurt told me I could read this. He also said that you would be interested in it.� Firmin handed over his newfound journal.

“Oh my, fascinating.� Hagen was glancing through the pages. “Firsthand account. Hrmm…� He paused and turned a few more pages much more slowly. “Ah, yes.� He handed the journal back to Firmin.

“I will give you a revised lesson plan tomorrow. You may read this, but I expect you to give me a very through written summary.� He lifted an open book from its perch atop a stack and placed it in his lap. “It is late, and you youngsters need your rest. Return to me in the morning and I will have your list of lessons ready. Off you go!� Hagen the Elder went back to his studies and Firmin left the chambers.


When Brother Firmin got to his bedchamber he was to excited to sleep. He lit a few candles and opened the journal. The pages, though yellow with time were thick and strong. The binding was expertly made and the book was very solid.

The first page was covered with a uniform grid of precisely formed letters and rather sloppy letters. The alphabet, Firmin was wryly amused that the beginning of the journal was used to teach someone to write. Mostly likely the owner of the journal. Despite being amused there was nothing much to be learned or read. Firmin skipped to the back.

Blank. It was quite a thick binding with many pages so he was not all surprised. He began leafing quickly though the journal.

“…told me it was “Murry� not “Murray�…� jumped out as he turned the pages. Firmin stopped, this was the last entry. Much to the chagrin of many of his tutors, he never was one to read books in the order they were meant to.


August. Summer, I think. Who am I kidding, I have no idea.

It has been a while since last I wrote. The monster still haunts me, though I bet you can tell if you have been reading these.

I have no idea why anyone would want to read my words. Why? I ask you. Oh well, ramblings aside I healed up as usual. I hate him so. Sometimes I forget about it all, especially after he clouts me unconscious. Just like the other times I woke up and remembered his enormous face. No malice in it, but there never was.

Oh well, this time I will get him. I know which way he heads through the wastes to his special place. I followed him once without him knowing it. He never would let me go with him. Why? I have no idea. I managed to follow him till he hit a gorge and I lost him. I hired a couple thugs and some well-known deadeye. I got the reference in another town and had to hunt him down. Crazy bastard. I had his name on a slip and when I found him he told me it was “Murry� not “Murray�, oh well, who was I to argue how the man spelled his name�he carried one hell of a large rifle. And his woman! Whenever I see Murry she is all over him.

We will be heading out and setting up an ambush tomorrow. I have briefed my shitty crew on his tactics. Oh I will kill him this time, mark my words. I will make him pay.


Dawn chased away the damp of the night. Brother Kurt and Hagen the Elder walked the garden with their heads bowed in conversation.

“We are historians charged with an important task. If we do not train new Brothers, our mission will fail. History must not be allowed to be lost, you know this Brother Kurt.�

“But if what you say is true, should be boy be reading this journal?� Brother Kurt pulled lightly at his robe where it caught on a rosebush he was passing.

“Or lessons include an aspect that has taught the young Firmin the roots of the objectivity needed by our profession. He will take the words as they are: words. We have not neglected our duties to his education.�

“I will trust your wisdom Elder Haden. However I will make sure my future lessons reflect the need to understand and distinguish history and story. The boy is quite sharp and learns his lessons well and fast, but he is still very emotional. Our books can and do mean more to him than they should.� Their ancient stone Abbey came into view past a row of hedges. Brother Firmin was excitedly making his way out to them, his new book tucked under an arm.

“Here comes young Brother Frimin now.� Said Haden the Elder.

The two bowed greeting to Firmin who returned the bow with and enthusiastic “Good morning!�

“It is indeed and excellent morning Brother. I wish you both a good day, but I must be off, duty calls and those Indexes will not write themselves.� Brother Kurt bowed and headed towards the Abbey.

“No doubt you have questions, Brother Firmin. First I have something to show you back at the Abbey. I have much to say before we break our fast.�


Back in Haden the Elder’s chambers the volume of books could easily be seen in the daylight flooding through several windows. Books were everywhere, stacked on tables, shelves, desks, other books. Haden wove his way through the stacks of books and beckoned Firmin to follow.

“Up on that wall, do you recognize it now?� Haden the Elder pointed.

“Of course I do, it is that strange old cannon that has been there since I can remember.� Brother Firmin stopped and stared. It was impossible. His mouth dropped open and he began to stutter.

“Now you see.� Haden the Elder chucked to himself.


“But… but, how, it is to well preserved… Besides, it is just too big to be a gun! I couldn’t be real…� Firmin paused. “How?!�

“It has been cared for since Elder Kenneth brought it back from one of his quests. You must remember some stories of him even though he was well before your time.� Haden the Elder sat on one of his sturdier piles of books.

“You mean it is true? That is the gun the man who write this journal mentioned so frequently? They can’t be the same! I read some of the books written by Kenneth the Elder! How can the owner of this journal hate him for so long?�

“Are you so quick to forget all your lessons young Firmin? Kenneth’s words may be true, but he was too involved in his work. We can’t forget what happens when the power of a book of words clouds the judgment of the mind.�

“I understand Elder Haden.� Firmin looked down at his book and then up at the enormous revolver hanging on the wall. He counted each of its 5 breaches in the cylinder. The caliber was absolutely staggering. The Abbey had a couple revolvers that it kept in working condition for various reasons. They were much more modern and looked like toys compared to this monster.

“I think Kenneth the Elder would have been interested in the vastly different point of view in that book. It is hard to say what his exact reaction would have been, but perhaps his books would have been more objective.� Haden rubbed his chin in thought.

“It’s a shame.� Brother Firmin thought out loud.

“Oh?� Haden the Elder caught the words and prompted for more.

“I was just thinking, all I was able to get out of this journal was a decent account of the authors travels. He hunted the man that carried that gun. He called him friend early on, but wished him dead for as many entries as I could read. He followed him around and never stopped in his attempts to kill him. Each time he was beaten and spared, yet he kept trying. I don’t understand.� Brother Firmin shook his head slowly.

“It is a shame.� He continued. “The oldest entries are gone. The pages are torn from the book. All I have are mysteries!� Brother Firmin opened the book. “Let me read you an excerpt!

“When I mention his debt he does not deny! I could see the sadness in his eyes but it does not stop me. I screamed and him and threatened him. Usually his unwavering presence wears me out and we continue like usual. However this time I swore an Oath to his face that I would kill him. He let me go, and when I return I will kill him.

“That is one of the oldest excerpts I could find! I don’t understand why he would want to kill him. Kenneth the Elder wrote nothing but praises! Take the journal, I am done with it.� Firmin tossed the book on a pile.

“Indeed unfortunate. Let us breakfast then and the uneasiness of this journal will be forgotten over a full stomach.� Haden the Elder stood. “I have prepared your lessons for today.� He paused as he was heading for the door. “They can wait though.� He ushered Brother Firmin out the door.

“Elder Haden, I think maybe he was just crazy.�

“Perhaps young Firmin. You needn’t worry though, attend your studies or your fellow Brothers will not be pleased. Hrm, after breakfast why don’t you run into town and get me some of baker Fenton’s delicious bread. And make sure you say hello to his beautiful daughter Heidi for me. After you return you can get to your studies.� Haden the Elder chuckled to himself.

Firmin did enjoy the idea.