**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

And another unheathily long wait is drawn to a close by another dose of under-par
and underwhelming fan-fiction!  At least it's *long* under-par and underwhelming
fan fiction, complete with 50% more references no-one bar the author is ever gonna
get.  This lot might take a while to get through!  Once again, be aware there will be
stuff not everyone will find comfortable reading.  Only Sandy, Rusty, Falloner and
Carter are mine; all the rest have WB stamped all over 'em.  Comments, as ever,
welcome, and indeed craved.  And now...



A CERTAIN LONELY TOON - PART 3
by Foxy Fellow
(foxyfellowuk@yahoo.co.uk)

Chapter 4

Out of the Darkness



     "I HATE BEING KEPT in the dark," Babs grumbled, after a moment, though the
pun was half-hearted, and her voice not as strong as usual.
     "Maybe it's just a power cut," Buster suggested, his paw finding hers, and gripping
it tightly.
     "What, of the sun, too?" Babs chided him. "Not unless the animator's spilled his
inkpot again."
     "What happened the last time?" Falloner asked, not completely sure he really
wanted an answer.
     "Eh, no-one really knows," Buster answered, laconically, "and as I found myself
wearing a tutu when we could see again, I don't think I want to."
     "Eh-heh..." Babs was extremely glad no-one could see her face. "How
embarrassing."
     "I lived," Buster assured her. "Plucky almost didn't."
     "I'm not sure I want to know," Falloner winced.
     "Before lights out, he was standing between Shirley and Arnold.  When they came
back on, no Plucky, a big hole in the ground, and Shirley and Arnold shaking hands
before going their separate ways." Buster stated, succinctly, tone as dry as Groucho
Marx's martini. "It took almost an hour to dig him out."
     "Does he have any redeeming features?" Falloner wondered, in a spot-on
approximation of Buster's laid-back vocal manner.
     "Tell ya when we've finished looking." Buster answered, apparently not noticing
the uncanny echo of his own voice. "Talking of looking, best we find the light
switch."
     "I think it was in this direction..." Falloner's voice moved away, slowly,
accompanied by tentative footsteps.  They culminated in a firm thump of toon foot on
metal surface. "What's this?" A pause.  When he spoke again, he sounded just like
Yosemite Sam looking down the barrel of yet another cannon. "Oh, no...  Nice
knowing you."
     As the last word left his mouth, a crack rang out, followed by a disturbing rushing
noise.  The lights snapped back to life at that point, giving Buster and Babs a
wonderful view of the tidal wave of Acme Gazettes bearing down on them.  Buster
tied a blindfold round his eyes, and puffed at a cigarette.  Babs stood next to him in a
sombre black dress, hat and veil, holding a small wreath with 'RIP Babs' spelled out
across it in both hands.
     The typewritten tsunami broke over them, burying both bunnies under several feet
of old copy.  They pulled themselves to the surface in fairly short order, Buster
choking on the cigarette still pinned between his teeth, and Babs with the wreath
around her neck, and a paper wedged in one ear.  She pulled it free, and glanced at the
front page.

	NEW STUDY REVEALS THE DANGERS OF WEDGING NEWSPAPERS
IN YOUR EAR

     "Do tell." She flung the Gazette away, following it up with the wreath.  Looking
around, she noticed the still-shut window blinds, the twisted portions of filing cabinet
scattered about the room, and one entire panel embedded upright in the wall by the
door.  The paws and feet jutting out from it told a story all their own, particularly the
hand holding an Acme Gazette with the headline:

	SECOND STUDY SHOWS GETTING CRUSHED INTO A WALL BY A
PANEL FROM
	AN EXPLODED FILING CABINET ISN'T PARTICULARLY GOOD FOR
YOU EITHER

     "Could someone please pry me out of here?" Falloner's heavily muffled voice
asked. "I feel a little flat." Together, Babs and Buster pulled the panel free, allowing
the wafer-thin raccoon to topple forward into the paper lake. "Thank you."
     Once he'd popped back into shape, he joined the rabbits in surveying the remains
of the library.
     "Bugs is gonna kill us," Buster opined. "That is, if that shark doesn't first."
     "What shark?" Babs asked, then saw the grey-blue fin slicing through the sea of
gazettes, heading right for them. "Oh, that shark."
     A moment's silence, an exchange of steady nods, then three clouds of screaming,
toon-shaped smoke was all that was left.  The 'shark' stood up, revealing itself, as the
papers dropped away, to be an overweight, yellow-skinned man with bathing shorts,
only three wisps of hair on his head, and a fake fin strapped to his back.  He surveyed
the Babs-, Buster- and Falloner-shaped holes in the library wall, and the fleeing
figures some distance beyond them.
     "Silly talking animals!  Thinking I was a shark!" he giggled, in childish glee.  The
laughter stopped. "Talking animals?!" With a sharp, high-pitched yelp, he sprinted as
fast as his chubby frame could take him in the opposite direction, straight through a
window and far away.
     Eventually, the trio stopped running, if only because they'd run out of corridor.
     "This was no boat accident!" Falloner proclaimed, in a perfect American accent.
     "Quite the mynah bird, eh, Hoop?" Buster noted.
     "It's a talent I have," Falloner confirmed, in husky, feminine tones.
     "Hey!  A fellow mimic!" Babs beamed. "This could be the beginning of a bee-you-
ta-ful relationship!" She grabbed the raccoon by his waistcoat, pulling his face right
up to hers, their noses pressed together. "Use any more of my material and you'll be
up to your mask in lawyers!"
     "Point noted," Falloner gulped.
     "Good boy." Babs let him free. "Is it me, or is it quieter than one of Plucky's
parties in here?"
     "You know, you're right," Buster agreed, ears swivelling from left to right and
back again, but picking up no sound at all beyond their own voices.  His eyes took in
the pristine condition of the corridor around him from under raised brows. "And
Pete's been working overtime."
     Babs opened a classroom door, and peered in. "Empty.  Not a soul to be seen." Her
voice didn't sound quite as lively as normal.
     Buster took one more look around, then took Babs' hand. "Let's get to Bugs'
office."
     The toon trio broke into a jog, hustling along several corridors in succession, their
footsteps echoing around them.  As the Principal's office came into view, so did a
familiar green and feathered form.
     "Hey, guys!" Plucky called out, drawing to a halt. "Any of you seen Hammy?  Or
anyone besides yourselves, for that matter?"
     "Nope," Buster answered. "You're the first since the blackout."
     "Same here," Plucky didn't seem half as much a wiseacre as usual. "This is ringin'
the wrong bells."
     "I'm with ya there, Pluckster." Buster put a paw to the door handle. "Let's see what
Bugs thinks."
     "If he's there." Plucky's level of optimism remained the same, though.
     "Don't." His face set rigid, Buster opened the office door.  A solid, bulging wall of
Acme Gazettes greeted him. "Hmm.  Déjà vu."
     By the time the flow stopped, the four toons had been washed a full twenty feet
down the corridor.  Buster was the first to surface, almost instantly spotting a pink ear
with a lavender bow attached jutting from the drifts of printed paper.  He wrapped a
paw round it and pulled.  Babs popped out, looking ever so slightly irritable.
     "TWICE IN ONE CHAPTER?!" she seethed, smoke pluming from her ears.
     "Hey, everything else gets recycled." Buster pointed out, laconically. "Why not
violent sight gags?"
     "I'll tell ya why," muttered Plucky, pulling a sheath of Gazettes from his bill. "'Cos
it HURTS!"
     "You should know," Buster replied. "Hey, Babsie - is it me, or have your bows
changed color?"
     Babs bent one ear down in front of her face, and surveyed it. "Well whaddaya
know.  A ge-neu-wine continuity error."
     "Plenty more where that came from," Plucky put in, sourly, straightening his blue
vest.  Then he noticed the words "SITTING DUCK" were emblazoned in large
capitals across the back. "Oh, ha-ha," he groused, glaring at no one in particular. "It is
to laugh." Quickly, he reversed the vest, returning it to its normal white, then stood
up.
     "Sandy!" Falloner scrambled past the disgruntled duck, to wrap relieved arms
round the figure standing in the doorway of Bugs' office.
     The fox chuckled softly, patting his adopted brother's back. "Good to see you,
too." Letting the raccoon remain where he was for the moment, he gazed levelly
round at the others. "Still in one piece?"
     The rabbits answered with nods, while Plucky snapped "Just!"
     "Good." Sandy began ushering Falloner into the office. "Best come in here.  We
need to talk."
     Slightly unnerved by the fox's terse manner, the trio followed him in, to find Bugs
seated at his desk.  The Principal didn't seem to notice them immediately, a
thoughtful cast to his eyes.  When he did acknowledge them, it was with noticeable
relief in his brief smile.
     "Glad youse guys is still with us," he greeted them, eyes lighting on Buster.
"We've gotten much too thin on the ground for my liking."
     "The whole Loo's empty?" Buster asked, taking a seat.
     "Looks that way," Sandy told him, sitting next to Falloner, lightly holding one of
the raccoon's hands. "I had a brief wander up and down the corridor.  Quiet as...
Quiet."
     Bugs' eyes flicked toward the fox for a moment, then fixed back on Buster. "No-
one else in de library?"
     "Not even Bookworm," the rabbit answered. "He wriggled off before the lights
went.  The only person we saw before you was Plucky."
     "And they were the first I saw," Plucky put in. "When I heard class had been
cancelled, I decided to head for the Cafeteria.  Hamton went to drop his books in his
locker before joining me.  Only, he didn't."
     "We know what we need ta do, then." Bugs opened one of the drawers of his desk,
and brought forth a quartet of two-way radios, which he laid smartly on the desk.
"T..."
     "There you are!" Hamton bundled into the office, his almost overpowering relief
tinged with anxiety.
     Plucky gripped his friend's hands. "Hammy, you're all right!"
     "Where is everyone?" Hamton asked. "I go to my locker, the lights go out, they
come back, everyone's gone."
     "We were about ta try and find out," Bugs told him. "Now you're here, things add
up better.  I suggest we soich the Loo, find anyone else left, and bring them back
here, okay?"
     Buster nodded. "Pairs?"
     "Yep." Bugs handed his protégé one of the radios, his voice and manner extremely
businesslike, and a gleam of determination in his eyes. "You go with Sandy.  Babs,
work with Falloner.  Plucky and Hamton, you're the last pair.  I'll stay here.  Report in
every ten minutes, in order, and whenever you find someone, or something
interesting.  I'll confoim any arrivals, and speak out if anyone gets ta the office by
sheer accident.  OK?"
     Uneasy nodding was the simple reply from all quarters.  Sandy and Babs took one
of the remaining radios each, then the toon teams filed from the office, Bugs watching
after them, a pensive cast to his expressive face.

     "Almost time to check in," Buster noted, glancing at his watch.
     Sandy didn't reply, simply pushing the door to the next classroom open, and
pacing inside.
     Sighing softly, Buster followed, eyes more on the fox than the room.  He knew it
would be empty, would be free of any life, but he didn't know what was troubling his
companion.  His cursory reminder of their need to report in had been the first thing
either of them had said since leaving Bugs' office to scour the second floor.  Sandy
seemed almost to be working on autopilot, his mind toiling obstinately on a different
task to his body.  His manner had become withdrawn and even a little sullen, his
actions sharp and perfunctory.  It wasn't that he didn't care, Buster surmised, watching
him carefully, but that something was nagging at him, and wouldn't show any mercy.
     The room proved as silent and empty as all the others, so they swiftly took their
leave, stopping in the corridor to check in.
     Buster depressed the 'talk' button. "Buster here.  We're checking the second floor.
Nothing found yet.  Over."
     "Received," Bugs' voice answered.
     Then Babs' tones chimed in. "Babs calling.  First floor.  Nothing yet.  Over."
     "Received," Bugs repeated, his inflection indicating he was taking notes, both
physical and mental.
     "Plucky.  Nada on third, either.  Over."
     "Received," Bugs' voice concluded. "Over and out."
     Buster let the hand holding his radio drop to his side.  For a moment, he was
tempted to confront Sandy, ask him straight out what was troubling him, but quickly
changed his mind.  It could wait.  No point focusing on side issues.  Yet.
     Sandy was already entering the next room, so Buster hurried to catch him up,
trying not to let the tension building slowly inside him have any effect on his mindset.
The total lack of any sound beyond their own footsteps was starting to unnerve him,
as were parallels he didn't care to dwell upon.
     "Buster..."
     The rabbit sped up, noting the confusion in his companion's voice.  Stepping
through the door, he found Sandy standing by a desk next to the rearmost window,
one paw resting on its timeworn surface.  As he reached the fox, Buster followed his
gaze, to see a pair of rough lines scratched shakily across the dark varnish and wood.
They formed a letter, large and ragged.

	L

     A glance at Sandy, whose own attention was now fixed somewhere beyond the
window, then he activated the radio.
     "Buster.  Bugs, we've found something.  A desk in Math Classroom 3.  It's got a
letter etched into the top - 'L'.  Over."
     "An 'L'?" Bugs' voice crackled back. "Noimally I'd say dat was someone jokin'
around, but..." He trailed off.
     "...but as all the other desks are as new..." Buster finished for him.
     "Exactly." Another pause. "Keep lookin'.  Over and out."
     "Anything else?" Buster asked, turning back to Sandy.
     "No," the fox replied, bluntly.  He turned to leave.
     Buster remained where he was for a moment, tussling with two options.  Then,
with a quick glance out of the window, across the dormant expanse of the courtyard
to the silent monolith of the clock tower, hustled from the classroom.
     "Sandy," he began, moving level with his companion.  The fox paused and looked
at him. "Have we done something wrong?"
     Sandy looked a little puzzled for a moment, then a fragile smile and a half-hearted
chuckle broke forth. "No." He clapped a hand to Buster's shoulder. "Quite the
opposite.  I've just been going over some old ground."
     Before Buster could ask what he meant, Babs' voice erupted excitably from the
radio.
     "Babs.  We've found Daffy.  Over."

     "Where?" Bugs' voice asked.
     "Wild Takes 101," Babs told him, watching as the black duck headed at speed
down the corridor. "He deliberately stayed put after the lights went. His class never
showed up, though.  He's heading your way now.  Over."
     "I'll tell yas when he gets here," Bugs answered, a note of relief in his voice.
"Keep looking.  Over and out."
     Babs slipped the radio back into her skirt pocket as she moved towards the next
room, Falloner close to her side.  He'd been doing that constantly, never letting more
than a foot of distance squeeze between them, a definite lack of confidence and
security evident in his manner and movements.  Yet, should Babs move to pat him on
the back or squeeze his shoulder in an effort to reassure him, he'd instantly shy away.
The action seemed more instinctive than thought about, though.
     Pushing it firmly to the back of her mind, she led the way into the last classroom
before the end of the passage and the courtyard.  Her heart sank another notch as she
surveyed the same silent, pristine scene they'd found in every other classroom.  Not a
blemish to be seen, like the whole Loo had been freshly refurbished with a
perfectionist's attention to detail.  Not a blemish, except one.
     A single desk, by the rearmost window, as worn and battered as they came,
completely out of place amongst the sterility of the rest of the room.  Babs padded
over to it, Falloner sticking almost as close to her as her own shadow.  Together they
took in the ragged letter "E" scratched into the dulled, pitted surface.
     "Another," Falloner whispered, barely audible, the tiniest of shivers running
through him.
     Babs paused, looked at him for a second, then out of the window at the clock
tower and courtyard.  Seeing it so still and vacant sent a tremor down her spine, too.
She pulled out the radio.
     "Babs.  We've found another desk with a letter carved into it.  An 'E' this time.
Over."
     "Received," Bugs' voice answered. "Which room?  Over."
     "Advanced Chases," Babs told him. "Over."
     "By a window?" Sandy's voice butted in.
     "Yup.  Over." Babs blinked a couple of times, startled by his abruptness, but didn't
comment on it.
     "Okay," Bugs sounded as calm as ever. "Keep looking.  Over and out."
     Babs pocketed the radio, then grabbed Falloner's paw in hers before he had a
chance to resist. He jumped slightly, staring nervously at her.  The rabbit summoned
up the best smile she could, and even squeezed his hand gently.  After a moment, he
relaxed a little, managing a slight smile himself.  Inwardly, Babs heaved a small sigh
of relief.
     "Sandy sounded troubled," she commented as they left the room, still holding
paws.
     Falloner nodded. "He did, didn't he?"
     Babs opened the door to the courtyard, and led the way through. "Any idea why?"
     "Some," the raccoon admitted. "But there are things he won't even tell me.  Or
Carter."
     On an impulse, Babs slipped into the best Vincent Price impression she could
manage. "Don't tell me he has some skeletons rattling around in his closet?"
     "A bone or two, perhaps," Falloner answered, mimicking the horror maestro's
chill-inducing voice almost to perfection. "But not an entire skeleton." He dropped
back into his own tones, as a red and white face peeped cautiously out from the door
to the clock tower. "At least, not that I know of."
     Still operating under instinct, Babs changed the subject a little. "You're pretty good
at the voices."
     Falloner chuckled before answering, not a trace of conceit in his voice. "Don't ask
me how.  I only have to hear a voice a few times and I can usually mimic it quite
well."
     "What, any voice?" Babs asked, genuinely interested.  The infirmary loomed
before them.
     "No, no." Falloner shook his head. "I often struggle with female voices, for one
thing.  Joan Rivers is a great example - I cannot mimic her at all."
     Babs instantly dropped his hand, and span into a blonde wig, tight-fitting, bright
red jacket with huge shoulder pads, a white bow tie wider than she was, and a black
miniskirt. "Oh, oh, oh!  She's one of my favorites!  Oh, oh!"
     "And spin-changing is way beyond me," Falloner went on, warming to his subject,
and losing some of his nerves along the way. "I make Goopy Geer look like an
expert.  Still, one more try wouldn't hu..."
     "We'll have none of that, Mister!" Babs interrupted, her Joan Rivers still in full
flow. "There are things a girl should not have to see!"
     "Well, if you put it that way," Falloner replied, in a soft, throaty voice with a
strong Jewish flavour.
     Babs span back to herself, grinning. "I do, Mel.  Our rating's being threatened
enough as i...what the...?" Her gaze snapped from Falloner to the infirmary door a
few feet ahead of them. "I swear I just heard that shut..."
     "Me too," Falloner confirmed.
     Without a word they broke into a run, the unease returning in a rush.  On reaching
the door, Falloner brushed it aside almost recklessly, to be greeted by a quartet of
startled faces.
     "What in tarnation?" Sam bellowed from his bed, pulling himself into a sitting
position.  He looked more or less himself, beyond the slight fraying of the edges of
his extravagant moustache.
     Babs! Wile E's sign exclaimed, the coyote pausing in his restless pacing back and
forth alongside his bed.  His energetic brain seemed to be working overtime.
     "Gwacious!" Elmer put in, getting up from his seat by his colleagues' beds, and
hurrying over to the new arrivals. "Are we gwad to see you!"
     "Good to see you, too," Babs replied, letting out a long, relieved sigh. "How long
have you been here?"
     "Since before the bwackout," Elmer told her. "I came to check on the guys before
my next wesson, then the wights went.  We tried the door then, but we were wocked
in."
     "Locked in?" Falloner repeated, his gaze switching to the hunter for a moment.
     "Yeah," Sam confirmed, swinging heavily round to sit in the edge of his bed.
"Couldn't get it ter budge.  Couldn't see outside, neither.  We gave up trying purty
quick.  Then the lights came back, and a minute later she came in."
     He nodded his head towards the small red figure that had been holding Falloner's
attention since he'd barged into the Infirmary.  The vixen sat on a bed a little distant
from the others, legs loosely crossed, hands resting in her lap, watching them calmly,
her head cocked to one side.  Her attire consisted simply of a waist-length cotton
shawl, coloured a deep russet, and tied lightly around her neck, and nothing else.
     "And you are?" Babs asked.
     "Rusty," the vixen replied, jumping lightly to her feet, and padding over. "Pleased
to meet you."
     "And I you," Babs greeted her. "I'm Babs Bunny, and he who can't tear his eyes
from you is Falloner."
     The raccoon flashed a brief glare at the rabbit, then turned back to the fox. "A
pleasure."
     "Likewise." Rusty gave no discernible reaction. "Any idea what's going on here?"
     "None," Falloner admitted. "All we know is we now have a near-deserted school."
     "Is Bugs all right?" Elmer interjected.
     "Fine," Babs assured him. "He's waiting in his office.  We're gathering everyone
we find there."
     "Then we'd best get a-goin'," Sam decided, standing up.
     As Yosemite led the way to the door, Babs' radio crackled loudly into life.  Babs
and Falloner paused just outside the infirmary, focusing on the check-ins, not noticing
the vixen slow down considerably, ears pricked. The rest headed at speed for the main
building.
     "Sandy.  Still on third floor.  No sign of life.  Over."
     Falloner's concentration was fractured for a moment by running footsteps.  He
looked up to see Rusty sprinting to catch up with the three teachers.  He didn't dwell
on it, shrugging slightly as he focused on the radio again.
     "Received," Bugs' voice came back. "Over."
     Babs depressed 'talk'. "Babs.  We're by the infirmary.  Found Sam, Elmer, Wile E
and a vixen called Rusty in there.  They're just on their way to join you, Bugs.  Over."
     "Received.  Nice one, guys.  Over."
     "Plucky.  Still on floor 2.  No life, but we've just found another desk with a letter
on it.  An 'H'.  In English 2, and yes, it's by a window.  Over."

     "Received," Bugs returned. "Keep looking.  Over and out."
     Plucky lowered the radio from his mouth, and gazed at the desk. "'E', 'L', 'H'," he
murmured. "What's that all about?"
     "Maybe it's spelling something," Hamton posited.
     "Spelling something?" Plucky fired back, tone withering.  Then, after a pause, he
relented. "Thinking about it, you may be right, Hammy.  Sure makes more sense than
a lot of what's going on." He started for the door. "Time to check the next r...hey -
was that a tail?"
     "Looked like it," Hamton agreed, as both he and Plucky ran for the door.
     The corridor beyond proved utterly deserted, but they could just hear footsteps
clattering up the stairs.  As Plucky lifted the radio, Sandy's voice came out of it.
     "We've found a fourth desk.  Got a letter 'H' on it.  History 1.  By a window.
Over."
     "Received," Bugs' voice confirmed. "Elmer, Sam and Wile just got ta the office.
No Rusty, though.  Over."
     "I think we know where she is," Plucky interjected. "Just saw a tail go past the
door to English 2, and heard footsteps running up the stairs to the third floor.  Over."
     "What's she playin' at?" Bugs wondered. "You get ready for her, Sandy.  Over."
     "Already am.  Over and out."
     Plucky and Hamton started walking again, moving along the corridor to English 3.
     "I wonder what's gotten into that girl?" Hamton remarked. "Maybe something was
after her."
     "We didn't see anyone," Plucky replied, searching the room visually. "It's gettin' to
be a theme around here.  Hello - another one." He strode over to the nearest window,
and the desk that stood under it. "A second 'E'.  Best tell Bugs all about it."
     "And about this one," Hamton piped up, from the back of the room. "We've got a
'P'."
     "They're multiplyin'." Plucky activated the radio. "Plucky.  Two more letters for
the collection.  An 'E' and a 'P'.  Both by windows in English 3.  Over."
     "Received," Bugs' voice confirmed. "Dat makes six, half on de second floor.  I can
spell somethin' with four of de letters, but not all of dem.  They spell 'help'.  Over."
     "Not good," Plucky muttered to himself.
     "Plucky," Sandy's voice broke in, "can you see the clock tower?  Over."
     "Yes," the duck answered, clicking to the fox's train of thought. "We could from
English 2 as well.  Over."

     "Right." Sandy's mental wheels were spinning fast. "It may be nothing, but I think
we should check the tower quickly.  Buster and I'll catch Rusty, then head for the
clock.  Babs, Plucky - meet us there, OK?  Over."
     "OK," Babs' voice answered. "Over."
     "OK," Plucky's echoed. "Over."
     "Keep in touch," was Bugs' only comment. "Over and out."
     Sandy handed the radio back to Buster.  The rabbit's ears were swivelling from
side-to-side as he listened for their quarry.  A finger jabbed out, pointing down the
corridor.
     "That way."
     "OK." Sandy set off at a run, Buster right by his side.  Ahead of them, a face
peered fleetingly round a door, then was gone.
     "That room has a connecting door with the next one along," Buster informed his
companion. "I'll cover the far one."
     Sandy nodded, and the rabbit bounded ahead, reaching the further room only a few
seconds after he did the nearer.  A glance at each other, then both rushed through the
doors.  Both spotted the vulpine figure standing in the connecting doorway, her head
snapping back and forth, poised to run.  Both began cautiously pacing toward her,
ready and waiting for her to react.
     Several seconds passed in tense silence, then she sprinted straight for Sandy,
losing all her poise in the process.  Her fleetness of foot gave him no chance to dodge.
The vixen knocked him clean off his feet, sending him crashing to the classroom
floor, with her on top of him.  Reacting instinctively, Sandy had his arms clamped
round her back before they'd stopped moving.
     Oddly, the girl didn't struggle.  She remained lying face down on top of him, face
buried in his neck, body shivering violently.  As Buster knelt down beside them,
Sandy loosened his hold so his arms were little more than resting across her back.
     "You okay?" Buster asked.
     Sandy nodded. "Not sure about her, though."
     "Just...give me a moment," the vixen requested, voice slightly unsteady.
     A brief pause, then she lifted herself up, to sit astride Sandy's waist.  He propped
himself up on his elbows, and regarded her carefully.
     "So you're Rusty," he noted, levelly.
     The vixen nodded, looking a little abashed, eyes failing to focus completely on his
face. "I hope you're Sandy."
     "That's me," the fox confirmed. "And the bunny's Buster."
     "No relation to Babs," Buster added, automatically.
     "Noted," Rusty smiled slightly, seemingly in no hurry to move. "I guess I have
some explaining to do."
     "Just a little," Buster agreed, laconically.
     "You can tell all as we wa...not again." This last was uttered as the lights cut out.


Chapter 5

Inside Out


     "Anyone know where the light switch is?" Rusty's voice quavered.
     "Air...supply...cut...off..." Sandy's strangulated tones gasped.
"Wind...pipe...crushed..."
     "Déjà vu," Buster drawled.
     Bugs' urgent voice erupted from the radio. "Check in!"
     Sandy, with an effort, managed to sit up, and gain himself a little more breathing
space, then brought the radio to his mouth. "Sandy.  Still here - just.  Buster's with
me, as is Rusty.  Still on third floor.  Over."
     "Received."
     "Babs.  At the bottom of the clock tower.  Falloner, Plucky and Hamton are here
too.  We're locked in.  Over."
     "Received.  Stay put till de lights come back, then I'll join Sandy's group, and from
there head ta join Babs' in de tower.  Once we've checked it out, we'll head back to
my office.  Got that?  Over."
     "Got it.  Over." Sandy confirmed.
     "Got it.  Over." Babs echoed.
     "See yas shortly.  Over and out."
     "Now we wait," Sandy remarked, fully aware of the shivering of the vixen still
holding onto him.  On impulse, he looped his arms lightly round her.  The gesture
seemed to have the desired effect, for Rusty's trembling subsided fairly swiftly to
almost nothing.
     In nervous silence they waited, uncertain of how much time flowed past before the
lights flickered sharply into life.  Once their eyes had adjusted, they took stock of
their situation.  The classroom looked unchanged, as empty and sterile as before, and
yet...
     Sandy focused on Rusty, head tilted slightly to one side.  Again the vixen failed to
return his gaze directly.
     "You all right?" Sandy asked, levelly.
     "Better," Rusty answered, with a nod. "If a...little embarrassed."
     "Your seat doesn't seem to be," Buster observed, dryly.
     "I don't embarrass easily," Sandy replied, not taking his eyes from Rusty. "Well,
Bugs oughta be here right about..."
     "Now?" the rabbit himself finished, appearing as if by magic in the doorway.  One
eyebrow rose as he took in the scene. "Nice ta see yas getting on already," he noted,
with a grin.
     Sandy gave no reaction, even when Buster nudged his shoulder as he moved past
and up to his mentor, but Rusty's cheeks gained a little colour, her head tilted
downwards.
     Bugs put a hand to Buster's shoulder. "Ya can't hold on forever.  We've got a tower
ta investigate.  Shuffle this way if ya please." He dropped into a stoop, arms trailing,
and shoulders hunched up.  His ears trailed down his back, his eyes became heavy-
lidded and thickly glazed, and his mouth crooked and drooping.  Breaking into a
shambling, rolling run, he headed down the corridor, moaning "The tower!  The
tower!" in a thick, sloshing voice as he went.
     Three faces leaned round the door, watching him in wide-eyed surprise.  Then
three shrugs proceeded three more hunchbacks dragging themselves along the
passage.

     Thus it was that Babs, gazing impatiently out of the clock tower door, was treated
to the unforgettable sight of a quartet of comedy Quasimodos shuffling wildly across
the courtyard in a line towards her, dementedly determined to reach "the tower", as
they incessantly wailed.
     She beckoned the others over. "Here comes the cavalry."
     Plucky, Falloner and Hamton joined her, jaws distending considerably as they took
in the view.
     "They've flipped!" Plucky declared, shaking his head. "They're looney tunes!"
     "Property of Warner Brothers, INC," Falloner appended, in a dead-on Daffy,
pulling up his tail to reveal a large WB shield apparently glued onto the fabric of his
trousers.
     "What, not gonna kiss it?" Babs asked, grinning.
     "I have my limits," the raccoon answered, complete with full-force Daffy-style
raspberry on the 's'.  Aptly enough, it was the Professor's protégé who bore the brunt
of the resultant spittle fountain.
     "That's only funny when Daffy does it," Plucky opined, disdainfully, wiping his
face with one hand. "Or by a toon who actually is WB property."
     "Good point," Falloner agreed, in his own voice. He peeled the shield from his rear
end, then with a flourish slapped it onto Plucky's bill. "How 'bout you give it a
whirl?"
     In that instant of high-speed transition, it seemed to have acquired the stickiness of
jam mixed with industrial superglue, as Plucky found out when he tried to remove it.
It took both hands and a tearing sound that made all around him cringe to separate it
from his face.  Unfortunately, it didn't separate from his beak, which remained
stubbornly welded to the shield, but not his head.
     "That's you off my Christmas card list," it groused, nasally.  Then the duck
realised both his hands were still stuck to the WB logo, either side of his bill. "For the
next fifteen years!" he added, sitting down against a wall, then pushing mightily at the
shield with one webbed foot.  When that failed, the last limb tried its luck.  Net result:
glue five, duck nil.
     "Didn't Daffy tell you about dose tings?" Bugs asked, standing over the
unfortunate waterfowl. "Took him an hour to remove his after dat scene.  WB won't
let ya go easily."
     "Ya don't say," Plucky snarled, flexing and wriggling his limbs as much as he
could in a pathetic, heavily one-sided fight with the shield.
     Bugs shook his head in gentle exasperation. "Sandy - you pull the shield while
Falloner holds Plucky."
     The raccoon looked a touch doubtful, but did as bid, helping the fox carry the duck
to the middle of the small room.
     "Light as a feather," he quipped, wrapping both arms round Plucky's waist, and
holding him up so Sandy could grip the shield.
     Even with both of them pulling with all their combined might, it was several
seconds before the glue finally waved a white flag and set Plucky free.  Such was the
suddenness of it, all three toons were sent flying horizontally backwards.  Buster and
Plucky hit opposing walls head first almost in unison, their bodies compressing
slightly with the momentum, then dropped heavily to the ground.  The duck's fall
revealed two flattened legs in cream-coloured trousers spread in a perfect horizontal
line along the wall.  Above the hint of a concertinaed torso, a triangular and
wallpaper-thin muzzle jutted, ringed by wonky teeth.
     "Ow," squeaked Falloner, in falsetto, pouring slowly off the wall and onto the
floor, hands gravitating to his crotch as he curled into a foetal position, his face a
particularly violent shade of purple under the fur.
     "My thoughts exactly," winced Babs, as all the males in the room  (even Plucky)
crossed their legs and cringed deeply in sympathy.
     "You okay?" Sandy asked, redundantly, kneeling by his surrogate sibling.
     "Fine," Falloner assured him, at such a pitch it was a wonder no dogs came
running, the mask of exquisite agony his face was frozen into strongly suggesting
otherwise. "Just fine."  Slowly his face returned to its normal shade, and a barely
detectable melancholy crept into his eyes. "I suppose I deserved that."
     "Too right ya did!" Plucky called out, from behind a Hamton-shaped body shield.
     "Sorry," Falloner almost mumbled, ears drooping.
     "Forget it," Sandy advised, quietly, helping the raccoon to his feet.
     "All right." Bugs most authoritative tone silenced all.  He stood at the bottom of
the stone spiral stairs at the back of the small room. "Now we can get back ta
business."
     He started up the steps, leaving the others to follow.  Babs and Buster were right
behind.  Sandy held Falloner back by his shoulder for a moment, until Hamton and
Plucky had passed them, whereupon the raccoon quite literally stuffed one of his
paws into his mouth to stifle a guffaw.  The WB shield had somehow found its way
onto the back of the green duck's vest.
     "I just can't help myself!" Sandy grinned, arm now round Falloner's shoulder, and
left foot crossed over the right, resting lightly on its toes.
     "Nor can I!" Falloner responded, having extracted his hand from his muzzle.  He
kissed his brother just below his eye, then headed up the tower after the others.
     A satisfied smile ticking his face, Sandy brought up the rear. "I love it when a plan
comes together!"
     He kept within a step of Falloner all the way up, half his attention focused on his
sibling, the other half on what might be found at the top.  Most likely, nothing, but
some part of him insisted that wasn't to be the case.  The climb, he found, was the
only thing so far to match the level of 'taking forever' factor of an Elmer Fudd lecture.
When the stairs did end, it was simply at a door right on the lip of the top step.  There
was a noticeable pause before Bugs opened it and stepped through.
     Swiftly the other six filed after him, hustling into the room beyond with hearts in
mouths.  Sandy was bemused to find it was so small, a petite square of a chamber
with only one chair in the middle of it, and a selection of framed photographs spaced
around the bland walls.  He stationed himself to the side and just behind of Falloner,
resting one paw on the raccoon's back, then followed his gaze.  Silence settled over
him as he found himself looking at Bugs.
     The Principal stood before a black-and-white photo of the head and shoulders of a
man with light hair, a warm face and knowing, intelligent eyes, wearing a tidy shirt
and a neat bow tie.  Embossed on a tiny plaque at the bottom of the simple golden
frame was the single word 'Chuck'.  Sandy felt a quiet melancholy filter in as he
watched Bugs place a hand against the photo, the assured determination slipping from
the rabbit's face for a matter of but moments, a palpable sorrow taking its place.  Was
that a tear furrowing his ruff of a cheek?  Was that one furrowing his own?  The fox
closed his eyes, letting the glass-protected image hover in his mind for a moment,
then the reality of the moment reasserted itself.
     Opening his eyes once more, he found Bugs now standing right in front of them,
the slightest of smiles curving his mouth.
     "We'll keep him alive," the rabbit averred, quietly yet fervently.  Then he was
businesslike once again. "Anyone see anything of note?"
     "Not here," Sandy answered.  His gaze lit on a door opposite the one to the stairs.
"Maybe there."
     "What is this place?" Falloner asked, eyes still tracking round the photographs.
     "Where I come ta think," Bugs answered, stepping over to the door Sandy had
highlighted, and pushing it open.
     The first thing the group saw beyond was the back of the Looniversity clock, and
the complex, gear-based mechanism that kept it ticking.  The second thing they saw
was the sarcophagus.  At least, it looked like a sarcophagus.  Its shape was right, its
size was right, and the lid was carved into a figure swathed in the richest Egyptian
garb, as it should have been.  Yet the clothes seemed parodied rather than carefully
reproduced, and instead of an expressionless, enigmatic human countenance as the
focus of it all, the face of a young toon cat stared blankly up at them; a feline
Tutankhamen.
     No-one moved right away.  No-one knew what to do.  It was Bugs who
approached it first, examining the sarcophagus from every angle, but not actually
touching it.
     "It's padlocked," he reported, voice low.
     "How many coffins have padlocks?" Plucky wondered, in deep confusion. "How's
a coffin in our clock tower, for that matter?"
     His only reply was a row of blank faces, none of his peers quite able to compute
what they were seeing.
     "Can anyone read Egyptian?" Hamton suddenly asked, pointing at the wall next to
the door.
     Four large symbols had been scratched raggedly and deeply into the paint there - a
half circle with the flat side at the bottom, an elongated eye shape without a pupil, an
arm at a right angle and viewed from the side with the palm out flat, and an upright
rectangle split by horizontal bars varying distances from one another.  Incongruous
didn't seem a good enough word for them.
     "Is there an Egyptologist in de house?" Bugs asked aloud, in a crisp vaudeville
tone, effectively snapping the younger toons from their bewildered trances.
     "Do we open it?" Buster asked, not looking too enamoured of the idea, but feeling
duty-bound to suggest it.
     "Not here," Bugs decided. "We'll take it back to de office first.  Maybe we can
think clearer dere.  Gimme yer radio."
     Buster obliged, then stepped back to take Babs by the paw.
     Bugs finger depressed the 'talk' button. "Daffy - we're coming back, and we're
bringing something wid us.  We should be dere in five minutes at de most."
     "Understood," the duck's voice answered, crisply.
     Bugs handed the radio back to Buster. "Let's see how heavy dis is..."
     He and his pupil crouched at either end of the sarcophagus, eased their fingers
under the base, and lifted.  Between them, it proved manageable, so with toons to
front and back of them, they slowly made their way out of the clock tower, and out
into the courtyard.  There, Sandy and Falloner took over, porting the unsettling object
back into the school proper.  The last leg was taken by Plucky and Hamton, who were
more than glad to relinquish their load the moment they entered Bugs office, propping
it up against a wall.
     Daffy, Wile E, Elmer and Sam clustered round, staring open-mouthed at the
sarcophagus.
     "What in tarnation?!" Yosemite yelled, expressing at full volume what all his
colleagues were thinking.
     "It was in de clock tower," Bugs explained. "Along wid some hieroglyphs."
     "Hierogylphs?" Wile E repeated. "What were they?"
     "Didn't take 'em down," Bugs confessed. "Sorry, Wile."
     "I think I can remember them," Falloner put in, heading for Bugs' desk.  He picked
up a pencil, and sketched the glyphs as best he could on a small pad of plain paper.
     Wile sat at the desk, and picked up the pad. "Give me time, and I might be able to
work it out."
     "Take all the time ya need," Bugs told him, turning his full attention on the
sarcophagus. "Sam - think ya can open this?"
     "O' course!" Yosemite answered, pulling out a six-gun.  One shot from it, and the
padlock broke, clattering to the floor.
     Sandy was the one that moved over to the casket first, pulling it upright, and
opening it smartly.  A horribly rigid face rushed straight into his, giving him barely
enough time to register the body it was attached to, and no time to dodge.  He hit the
floor on his back, smothered by the lifeless bulk.  He fought his way out from under
it, heart thumping in his throat, blind to everything but escape.  Only when feminine
arms caught hold of him did he begin to calm.
     From inside Rusty's embrace, he fought to make sense of what his eyes were
showing him.  The inert form of a black-furred raccoon lay in front of the
sarcophagus, bound hand and foot, and a grotesque plastic mask of an orange cat
fixed by elastic bands to his face.  A slip of paper, seemingly left loose inside the
casket, had come to rest by his feet.  Sandy craned forward to read it.

	Got Carter.


6

The Dawn


     "Is he dead?" Buster asked, taking Babs' paw, and keeping his voice as level as
possible.
     "No," Sandy answered, sitting back, the mask in one paw, and two lengths of rope
in the other.  He spoke in a baffled murmur. "Just unconscious."
     The mood in the office improved more than a little, particularly when Falloner's
gentle shaking of Carter bore dividends, the sable raccoon's eyes flickering open, and
a paw moving to his forehead.  He swivelled into a sitting position, then grabbed an
ebullient Falloner up in a bear hug.  For a moment, it looked like a kiss would seal the
reunion, until both parties noticed they weren't alone.  A gentle nudge of noses was
all they allowed themselves.
     "If that had been her..." Buster whispered, under his breath.  It caught as he felt her
squeeze his hand, and move closer.  She must have heard him.  One eye glanced for
one microsecond in her direction.  A soft smile warmed her lovely face, and it was
directed right at him.  Yup, she'd heard.  He berated himself behind a flat face,
turning to listen as Carter spoke up.
     "Does anyone have the slightest clue what's going on?" he asked, getting to his
feet.
     "Some," Wile E answered, quietly, looking up from his pad.  Several hopeful
looks were directed his way. "Him first," was the coyote's response, his pen jabbing
toward Carter.
     "Well, Carter?" Bugs prompted, perching himself on the lip of the desk, posture
relaxed, and eyes fixed on the raccoon.
     "You know my name?" Carter's gaze moved to Sandy.  The fox nodded. "I see.
Well, I remember the lights went during a between-lessons break.  I was in a
classroom to myself at the time - trying to steel myself for the next lesson.  When
they came back on, the place was deserted."
     "You mean Perfecto?" Daffy interjected, leaning on the desk next to Bugs, one
hand at his hip, and one webbed foot crossed over the other.  A hint of distrust flashed
in his eyes.
     "Sadly, yes," Carter confirmed. "Not my choice, though.  I'd rather be here.
Anyway, I started exploring the Prep, trying to work out where everyone had gone.
Didn't find a single toon.  The lights went again as I entered a science lab.  I heard
footsteps, then something hit me between the ears.  Next thing, I'm seeing stars.
Twice."
     "I like him already," Daffy observed, his chest puffing up as a distinctly self-
satisfied look came over his feathered face.  He looked like he'd just been declared
Duck of the Year.
     Bugs rolled his eyes. "Hey, Daffy - what's tsurht backwoids?"
     "Er....thrust?" posited the duck, whereupon the end of his beak snapped upwards
with a painful crack, as if he'd been hit with something.  The glare he aimed at Bugs
around his right-angled bill could've burned through lead.  He pulled his beak back
into shape. "You think I'm thuch a jackath, don't ya?"
     Bugs simple response was to hold up a sign.

	JACKASS SEASON

     Daffy had just enough time to whimper "Oh, no..." in a uniquely doomed tone of
voice before a shotgun was aimed at him, Elmer affixed to the other end.  When the
smoke cleared, it revealed a Daffy with a face even blacker than usual, and a beak
perched atop his head, tongue drooping from the side.  The duck dropped his bill back
into place like he was lowering a visor.
     "Oh, no." He shook his head, taking a step away from Bugs. "Not thith again.  Not
thith little black duck."
     Bugs' sign changed.

	LITTLE BLACK DUCK SEASON

     Elmer, ever-dependable, responded exactly as expected.  This time when the cloud
dispersed, Daffy's beak was a spinning blur around his head.  It came to a rest a fair
bit further to the right than he would have preferred.  Two petulant hands straightened
it up.
     "That ceased being funny the third time we did it, Mac," he observed, darkly,
making sure to avoid letting any animals, furred, feathered or scaled, slip into his
phrasing. "I'm not getting into any tired retreads of worn material."

	NOT-GETTING-INTO-ANY-TIRED-RETREADS-OF-WORN-MATERIAL
SEASON

     Elmer's shotgun blasted into life.  Daffy's beak ended up perched upright on the
desk behind him, a selection of pens and pencils jutting from it.  The duck picked it
up, shook out the contents, and slapped it back onto his face.
     "Now you're reachin'," he told Bugs, sourly. "At least you ain't shooting your
mouth off."
     "No, he's shooting your mouth off."
     "I wish he'd shoot your mouth off."
     "But he doesn't have to shoot my mouth off."
     "Yes, he does have to shoot my mouth off!"
     "He doesn't have to shoot my mouth off."
     "Yes, he does have to shoot my mouth off!" Daffy was seething with righteous
indignation. "I demand he shoots my mouth off!"
     "Alwight."
     BANG!
     The dissipating smoke revealed Daffy with one arm stretched up and out, and his
bill pinned between his fingers. "You're too clever for my own good," it groused.
     His aggrieved mood faded on reattaching his beak, however, as he heard the
beautiful sound of seven young toons crying with laughter.  A smile breaking onto his
beak, he happily joined Bugs, top hat on head and cane in hand, in a perfectly
synchronous and sublimely smooth soft shoe shuffle.  As sliding offstage wasn't an
option, they, and Elmer, settled for bowing deeply, to two even more beautiful sounds
- cheering and applause.  There were even a couple of whistles.  But no crickets.
     "Encore!" several voices pleaded.
     "Maybe later," Daffy answered. "My beak needs to recover."
     "In the meantime," Bugs put in, noting with no little satisfaction the improved
mood in the room, "we can decide what ta do."
     "Go to Perfecto," Carter immediately suggested.  He held the mask in one hand. "I
want to know what Albert's got to do with this."
     Bugs' eyes widened.  He indicated the mask. "Dat's someone you know?"
     Carter nodded. "Fellow student.  Not suited to Perfecto at all.  Vanished almost as
soon as he'd started.  Only trace left is the word 'help' scratched into the back of what
was his locker."
     "Really?" Wile looked up from the pad he was scribbling on for an instant. "Well,
well."
     "Pardon?" Carter's face mapped out his confusion.
     Wile E laid his pen down. "It adds another piece," he explained, voice lacking its
usual smug superiority. "Though there are still a lot of gaps."
     "Care to explain, O Thuper Genius?" Daffy prompted, with an overdone
subservient bow.
     "Well," Wile answered, "I can work out how most of this could or would have
been done, but not who by.  Someone could easily have tampered with my desk hand
before class.  I wasn't there all the time."
     "Same with ma gun?" Sam asked.
     "Yes.  And Daffy fell foul of a portable hole, though getting it under his feet must
have been hard."
     "Very punny," the duck snapped back. "Tho this guy's got an ACME catalogue,
huh?  Not the brainiest of people, eh Wile?"
     The coyote studiously ignored the dig. "I even have an idea how the cinema stunt
was pulled."
     "But how, Poirot?" Falloner asked, his English accent gaining a clipped, upper-
class tincture.
     Wile allowed himself a brief self-satisfied smile. "The only way I can see of doing
it, was a theater that moved.  By that I mean whilst you were watching the film, the
room you were sitting in was moving.  Down, then along, until it reached that
building you came out of."
     "I can just about see dat," Bugs mused, one ear scratching the top of his head
thoughtfully, "but ta move it right across Acme Acres must have taken some doing."
     "So we weren't in the Megaplex at all when we left the theatre?" Sandy asked.
"We were in a building made to look like it?"
     "It's the only solution that makes any sense," Wile E confirmed. "There is no way
all those tricks could have been played in the real Megaplex."
     "And yet," Buster reasoned, "someone high up at the cinema must be in on it.  The
room couldn't have been made to move, otherwise."
     "Exactly." Wile nodded. "Where I come unstuck is trying to understand how they
could make the school so deserted so quickly.  Maybe with more information..." A
frown formed as he slipped back into deepest thought.
     "We need ta find out if we can get out," Bugs decided.
     "I'll go," Sandy offered, even as the last syllable left the rabbit's mouth.
     "Okay," Bugs agreed, the only one in the room not to react in some way to the
fox's apparent eagerness. "Got a radio?"
     "Yup," Sandy replied, patting a body pocket.
     "Then get goin'." Bugs turned back to the desk, laying another radio on it, then
picking up his telephone.
     The fox nodded, and headed without a word to the door, brushing Rusty aside as
he did so.  Hurt of more than one kind flashed in her eyes as she watched him leave.
It turned to a quiet embarrassment as she realised most eyes were on her.  Bugs and
Wile were the only exceptions, the two of them engaged in conversation.
     "You two know each other?" Sam asked, positing a question in a lot of minds.
     "Not at all," Rusty answered, quietly. "Today was our first meeting."
     "Then...why did you leap on him?" Buster wanted to know.
     "I...liked the sound of his voice...?" Even she didn't look convinced by that one.
     "You have strange taste," Plucky drawled, more cynical about her than most.
     "I was panicking," Rusty was looking more flustered by the moment. "I thought he
sounded comforting...reassuring..."
     "Yeah, yeah," Plucky sneered.
     "Leave it, Plucky," Daffy instructed him, firmly.
     "All right," the younger duck agreed, stung, lowering his gaze. "But I still don't
trust her."
     "I was expecting to have to earn people's trust," Rusty remarked. "Not sure where
to start, though."
     "By being patient," Bugs advised, replacing the receiver of his phone. "I've a bad
feelin' we all might have ta be.  The phones are dead."
     "This keeps getting better and better!" Plucky groaned. "No-one got a cell phone?"
     "We don't allow 'em in the school, remember?" Bugs told him, his tones wry.
     "Oh, yeah," Plucky snapped back, sarcastically. "I forgot." A reproving glance
from Daffy was enough to quench his ire, though. "You think we're gonna be trapped
here?"
     Bugs just nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.
     "I must agree," Wile chimed in, lifting his gaze from his notepad. "Especially
since those hieroglyphs in the tower seem to spell out 'trap'."
     "That's just swell." Plucky dropped into a chair. "Just swell."
     "At least we won't go hungry," Hamton pointed out. "We've got a whole canteen
full of food."
     Plucky's face turned a deeper green, and he made a show of holding back the urge
to retch. "If that was an attempt to reassure me, pal, it failed.  What's in that canteen
ain't food."
     The radios chose that moment to crackle into life. "Sandy.  Over."
     Bugs snatched his up. "Well?  Over."
     "Main doors are locked," Sandy's voice reported. "And someone left a note - 'stay
the night'.  Over."
     "Received," Bugs replied, crisply. "Get over to the canteen and bring back some
food.  We'll send someone to meet you there.  Over."
     "Understood.  Over and out."
     Bugs' gaze lit on Rusty as he put the radio back on the desk.
     "Could I pass?" the vixen requested, nervously. "I'm not sure he'd welcome me."
     "He'll come to," Bugs averred. "But okay.  Any other volunteers?"
     Buster raised a hand.  So did Babs.
     "Got a radio?" Bugs asked.
     Babs nodded. "Back soon."
     "Wait a minute," Plucky burst out, a few moments after the bunnies had left. "Why
don't we just break a window?"
     "Try it," Bugs suggested.
     "All right." Plucky paced over to the office's one window.
     When he found it locked tight, he carefully wrapped a cloth round one hand, and
punched at the glass.  His fist rebounded off the window to slam right into his gaping
beak, knocking him clean off his feet.  Pulling the cloth out of his mouth, he glared
homicidally at Bugs.
     "We had 'em replaced after Sam shattered 'em," the rabbit explained. "Rubberized
glass."
     "Timin'!" Plucky groused, standing up and dusting himself off.  It was then he
noticed the WB shield affixed to the back of his vest. "Oh, I hate him!"

     Babs and Buster padded into the canteen, their softly echoing footsteps their only
company.  The first thing they were struck with, as they stopped in front of the
serving counter, and gazed around them, was the total lack of a Sandy.  Babs
activated the radio.
     "Babs calling.  Sandy?  Where are you?  Over."
     No answer.
     "Sandy?  Are you there? Over." The tension level in her voice rose a notch.
     This time a reply came, but from Bugs.
     "I take he ain't at the canteen?  Over." the rabbit guessed.
     "No.  Over."
     "Odd," Bug's voice answered. "How long d'ya want to wait?  Over."
     "We'll give him five minutes, then if he isn't here try the radio again.  Over."
     "We'll talk again then.  Over and out."
     Babs slipped the radio back into her skirt pocket. "Think we should start?"
     "Might as well," Buster agreed. "Ladies first."
     "Why thank you, kind Sir," Babs trilled as she passed him, in her very best
Tennessee Williams tone. "Such a perfect example of a gentleman!"
     "Jes doin' ma duty, Ma'am," Buster answered, taking a trip to the South himself,
his modesty not entirely put on. "My duty by a lovely lady." He paused in the kitchen
doorway. "Did I just say that?" he quavered, in his own voice.
     Babs beamed delightedly back at him. "I rather think you did!"
     "I was afraid of that," Buster moaned, head in hands.  He allowed himself  a
glance at his companion, then his paws dropped away completely.  He found himself
smiling back. "It's true, though."
     "What's true?" Babs asked, gently, though something in her lively eyes hinted she
already knew the answer.
     "That you're lovely," he answered, taking a step closer to her, and both of her
hands in his.
     For a few moments, all other concerns melted away, leaving just them, alone,
regarding one another with a warmth Buster in particular had not felt comfortable in
showing before.  All the while, the blue bunny's mind considered exactly what to do
or say next.  He was fairly sure of his feelings, but not of how best to reveal them, or
how much to let out, or even if they should be made known at all.  In the end, the
decision was made for him by footsteps approaching the canteen from the same
corridor they'd used to reach it.
     "Guys?" Sandy's voice called out.
     "Over here," Buster called back, simultaneously annoyed at a chance lost, and
relieved at being given more time to think it all over.  The former won through when
Babs lightly and quickly kissed his right hand before releasing it, and continuing into
the kitchen.
     "Only just got here?" Sandy asked, sliding past him.
     "And still beat you," Buster retorted, with a grin.  His eyes lit on the backpack the
fox was now carrying. "Took a detour?"
     "Didn't want to leave this unattended," Sandy answered, shifting the strap on his
shoulder.
     Buster bit back the urge to ask what was in the bag, reasoning that any chance of
upsetting the fox was not worth taking.  As Babs radioed Bugs to report Sandy's
reappearance, he and the vulpine set about filling their arms with as much food as
possible, and then a little bit more besides.  Both were surprised (and delighted) to
find the kitchen fully stocked with a wide selection of real food, which instantly made
the idea of staying overnight at the Loo much more palatable.  Once Babs was fully
laden as well, the trio began the return trip.
     Halfway to the office, a distant, quavering wail rose abruptly from nowhere,
seeming to make the very air tremble as it reached a keening crescendo, then faded
back into nowhere, leaving three deeply shaken toons in its wake.  Caution forgotten,
they ran full tilt for the relative safety of Bugs office, the echoes of the cry chasing
them along the corridors.
     They were met in the passage outside the room by the rabbit himself, both his ears
fully erect as his head swivelled from side to side.  He didn't acknowledge them
immediately, and when he did, it was with a question.
     "Anyone know what dat was?"
     His only reply was a shaking of heads.
     "Okay.  Get inside." He ushered the younger toons and their loads into the office,
taking one last searching look round before he followed them.

     Buster sat against the wall, staring intently into the depths of his own thoughts.  He
couldn't sleep - far too much to make sense of, and this was his first proper
opportunity to reflect.  Besides, having someone keep watch seemed a better idea the
more he considered it.
     He, Babs, Plucky and Hamton had opted to spend the night in Daffy's office, once
Bugs had given them the option of sleeping either there or in Elmer's.  Sandy,
Falloner and Carter had vanished into Fudd's room, leaving the older toons and an
unhappy Rusty to occupy Bug's office.  Buster had hoped he might be alone with
Babs, but fate, in the shape of a certain green duck, had intervened.  He just had to
hope another opportunity would present itself before his impetus vanished.
     His gaze drifted over to her.  She lay peacefully asleep right next to him, a lovely
sight indeed in the moonlight filtering through the one window.  Since Plucky and
Hamton were also sleeping soundly, across the room from him, he felt secure in
letting the warmth he felt as he regarded Babs spill onto his face in the form of a
gentle smile.  Carefully, softly, he eased the radio from her skirt pocket, determined
that any alert should not disturb her.
     He found himself becoming increasingly protective toward her.  Part of him
wanted to wrap an arm round her, secure her in his embrace.  But, another part
reasoned, that would risk disturbing her, which was not an option.  Maybe...  Maybe
just a kiss.  A peck on the forehead.  It would satisfy his sudden need for expression,
and she would never know.  He leaned over, dipping his had toward hers...
      Only for the warmth to be chased out of him by a wail that rose from somewhere
far beyond the office door, distorted, echoing and horrible.  And yet, even as it sent
shivers of fear coursing through him, it struck a tiny note of familiarity.  He jumped
to his feet, snatching up the radio, and darted across to the door.  As he whipped it
open, the wail faded away, leaving just his wildly spinning mind.  A voice rang out
from Elmer's office, just along from him.
     "Stay here.  I'll check it out."  The last word was accompanied by Sandy's head
emerging into the corridor, minus the homburg hat.
     Buster moved out into the corridor, making sure to close the door as he did so.
Sandy followed suit, a distinct tension to his movements.  Buster's eyebrow rose a
fraction on noting the fox wasn't wearing his jacket, either.  He didn't mention it,
though.
     "Feel like investigating?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
     Sandy nodded. "I have a curiosity to sate.  Did it sound sad to you?"
     "Sad?" Buster blinked.
     "Melancholy.  Unhappy."
     "Now you mention it, it did a little.  And I swear there's something familiar about
it."
     Now it was Sandy's turn to raise a brow. "All the more reason to find the source.
Any idea where it was coming from?"
     Buster shook his head. "Too distorted.  But if it happens ag..."
     He stopped as the wail began again, ears twitching to every moment of it, straining
to work out where it might be originating.
     "Well?" Sandy prompted, once quiet had reasserted itself.
     "This way," Buster answered, taking off along the corridor.
     Progress was swift, only pausing whenever the wail sounded so Buster could keep
track of their direction.  Quite quickly they arrived at the front of the courtyard, where
the clock tower loomed high.  In the moonlight, a tiny silhouette could just be
perceived huddled atop the school building to the left of the tower.  As if to confirm
the obvious, it let out a drawn-out, miserable wail even as they gazed up at it.
     "It's a cat!" Sandy exclaimed, in obvious relief.
     Buster nodded, then raised his voice. "You're safe!  Jump!  I'll catch you!"
     A short, sharp meow, then the shape dropped off the edge, falling neatly into
Buster's waiting arms.  It proved to be a small blue cat with one ragged ear and a
bandage tied haphazardly round his scrawny, white-tipped tail.
     "Furball!" Buster beamed. "Good to see you!"
     The feline obviously agreed, from the quite ecstatic hug he gave the rabbit, before
jumping lightly to the ground.
     "Furball, Sandy.  Sandy, Furball." Buster rattled out. "We'll do full introductions
tomorrow."
     "Fine!" Sandy chuckled, oozing relief.
     "And now, sleep," Buster smiled, leading the way back to the offices.

     "They're open," Buster reported, having tested the main school doors. "We're out
of this at last."
     "Lead on," Bugs smiled, standing amidst a knot of happily expectant toons.
     "My pleasure!" Buster pulled the doors wide, and stepped out.
     Fourteen people flooded out of their overnight prison, filled with thoughts of
reunion and rejoicing.  Finally some light on the horizon...
     Light that winked abruptly out on cresting a grassy rise, to be presented with a
perfect view of the crumbling, decaying, ruinous skeleton of a town that had once
been Acme Acres.

------

Next time, the real story begins.  To be continued...