Under the Bed

Under the Bed
Part 2 – In the Orchard

Big Macintosh was staring at the south-western apple orchard with a disturbed frown. There was something on the breeze that he didn’t like. Something piercing through the usual sweet smells of green and apple-sugar and earth. He stamped at the ground a few times, very uneasy. The big red stallion looked ready to bolt. Being the paragon of masculine drive and power, this was quite a thing to say. He’d stomped his fair share of timberwolves, had enough wrastlin’ matches like any stallion his size, and had even gotten into a bar fight one time—but this scent alone licked at his brain like an icy tongue, drawing its slimy, necrotic touch down the back of his neck. He shivered, peering around again.

Walking through the orchards, through the rows and rows of trees, he finally spotted it. Being that the trees were set on a grid, it was very easy to spot anything out of the ordinary. Galloping over, he gaped up at a dead apple tree. It was more than dead, it was positively pale. He pawed at it a little, but the bark was still hard and protective. Putting a bit more force behind it, he scraped off the outer layers to see the wood. Rotted. He looked at the splinters—then at the ground. Perking his ears in alarm, he turned a few quick circles. All the grass and greenery within thirty feet of the dead tree was dead.

The farmer leaned down, snuffle-sniffing for plant-killers, pesticides, and other chemicals. Working on a farm all his life, he would know it if there was one by the ‘after-scent.’ Had somepony trespassed and assassinated one of his beloved trees? Nope. There was no chemical scent. Bravely, he nibbled at some of the grass like a wild pony might. He spat it out right away. Cold. Cold and crispy and dead like a block of clay. It was worse than eating dirt. It prickled his mouth. Spitting a few times, he walked around. The dead spot was a perfect circle. A very perfect circle. Underground well, maybe? Maybe something poisonous flowed through and killed everything? Acid rain? No no, that would’ve hit the whole orchard. The red farmer pondered for a time, his brow lowered in frustration. It didn’t make no sense. It wasn’t anything like he’d seen before. He’d have to show AJ.

Big Macintosh hoofed at the ground a few times to get a sizable hunk, put it in his saddlebags and then turned to head back to the house. It should’ve been breakfast time right about then.

=-=-=-=

Applebloom stared miserably at her waffles, red in the face and droopy in the ears. Somehow, some way, she’d wet the bed last night. She was a big filly, she knew better! She did! They had an outhouse and everything, she’d never done such a thing since she’d been toilet trained. This was so embarrassing, she couldn’t look anypony in the eye. It also didn’t help that her pillow was wet when she woke up, as though she’d been weeping in her sleep.

Granny Smith shrugged it off as a summer sort of thing. “Your body gets comfy enough, it loosens out, and eh… it happens,” the elderly mare said as she sat across the table from her.

Applejack was silent, knowing there wasn’t anything she could say to make her little sister feel better. Hopefully by tomorrow the sheets would be clean and the poor thing would forget all about it. The orange mare had put her hoof down about Granny Smith hanging the sheets out to dry after scrubbing them. The poor filly would have died of embarrassment. Instead, they were hanging on a clothesline in the foal’s own room, with a window open for the breeze.

Applebloom nodded silently, still embarrassed beyond belief. Applejack wasn’t sure how she’d wet the bed in her sleep, she looked kind of pale and bag-eyed, like she hadn’t slept a wink. Something was troubling her. Applejack suspected a night terror, but she wasn’t sure. When Applebloom finally started to pick at her waffles and eat, both mares finally relaxed a little.

Big Mac suddenly emerged into the house, stopping to wipe his hooves as a good Apple ought to when entering the home. He leaned with a soft murmur on the doorframe of the kitchen, eyeing his littlest sister with sympathy. Poor thing, she looked like a wreck. He cleared his throat a little for attention, making everypony else look up. Leaning into his saddlebags, he produced the clump of earth and dead grass. Granny Smith started to squawk about him bringing it into the house, but then she got a good look.

Applejack took it, turning it over and over. The grass was more than dead it was… grey. Almost like it had been petrified by a cockatrice. The earth was stone-cold and hard. The grass and sod on it was cool to the touch and stiff like wire. The orange mare took a sprig of it and put it in her mouth. “No pesticides either?” Applejack asked. Big Mac shook his head. “Where’d you find this?” Her brother nodded towards the orchard. “We’ll go have a look after breakfast,” she said, offering him a chair. The red stallion sat gratefully, putting the clump of disturbing earth to one side. He couldn’t look at it while he ate. Applebloom didn’t speak at all during breakfast.

=-=-=-=

Fluttershy opened her door with a startled expression. All pressed onto her stoop at the same time were three armored guards. Dressed in golden armor with their usual eternal frowns on their faces, they nodded to her. It was two stallions and a mare with the usual Spartan-esque helmets. “U-uhm, hullo there. Am I late on my house tax?” she offered in a small voice. “I-I put it in the mail three days ago, I promise,” she wilted at their stern gazes.

“Are you Fluttershy?” the mare asked.

“Yes, th-that’s me,” the yellow mare whispered.

“The Ponyville guard needs your expertise in solving a case, will you help?”

“My expertise?” Fluttershy blushed. “I’ll help if I can,” she nodded a little, her mane falling over half of her face.

“This hasn’t hit the public eye yet, so… discretion,” the mare said, pulling her helmet off to give Fluttershy a paper and quill. It was a hush contract, saying Fluttershy would not discuss what she was helping with. After the butter-colored Pegasus had penned her name, the guardspony shoved it back in her helmet and out of sight, putting it back on her head. “There’s been a murder… we think.” Fluttershy shuddered at the m-word. “We don’t have a body, but we’re not ruling out a kidnapping either. Nor an animal attack.”

“I see,” Fluttershy said meekly, cocking her head.

“We would bring the local vet in on this, but your reputation is a bit more exotic and we’re not sure what we’re dealing with yet. We’re guards, not animal experts,” said the white stallion to her left. Fluttershy opened her mouth to protest that she wasn’t as good as a vet, but they were sort of right. The shy mare had dealt with dragons, cockatrices, changelings, timberwolves, manticores and many other beasties. Not to mention all the normal local wildlife. A domestic pet vet just wouldn’t have the eye for that sort of thing. Whatever sort of thing they thought she had an eye for. “Please, come with us,” said the stallion.

“O-okay,” Fluttershy nodded. They led her across town to Rarity’s boutique, much to her horror. “Rarity?!” she whimpered, darting inside past the caution tape. The Pegasus was nearly bowled over by the guards that were already inside investigating. “Eep!” she sank down a little, automatically submissive to all the muscle and armor around her.

“It’s okay boys, she’s with us,” the trio that had gone to fetch Fluttershy ducked under the tape and came into the showroom floor. “This is Fluttershy, the mare they recommended look at the bedroom upstairs.” A few guards made sickened faces at the mention of the room.

“What’s happened?” Fluttershy said with big soft eyes. “Where’s Rarity?”

There was a short silence, then the mare in armor said carefully, “We’re not sure. That’s one reason we brought you in. To see if an animal did this.”

“I-I’ll do my best,” Fluttershy repeated, tucking her ears back.

“Good. Follow us.” They led her carefully up the stairs.

Fluttershy was slow to follow. Something terrible had happened to Rarity and they wanted her to come see the scene of the crime?! Her poor dancing heart could barely take it. Taking gulps of air and fighting the panic attack rising in her throat, she focused on one stair at a time. She could hear herself breathing loudly, though, heaving for breath. She was a skittish thing to begin with, but she had to help with the local guards asked.

The let out a breath when they walked past what she knew to be Rarity’s room, leading her towards the guest bedroom. A number of different ponies had stayed there, especially on sleepover nights and holiday evenings when it was just too dark or cold to go home alone. Rarity was nothing if not a generous hostess to a pony that didn’t want to brave a cold night. She even kept color-coordinated bed sheets for her best friends.

“This is it here,” the armored mare pushed the door open gingerly. Fluttershy wasn’t sure what to expect. Fountains of blood? Trashed furniture? Shattered windows? The yellow mare wobbled into the room to have a look, making the two stallions with the group look at each other with cocked eyebrows.

The bed was tossed, the mattress only halfway on the frame. The bed clothes were gone. The window was broken, one of the two doors missing. There was a spattering of red on the wall right next to the bed. Fluttershy wandered forward as though in a trance, unsure what to think yet. The hardwood floor had scratches on it, only where one would expect heavy traffic in the room to be.

“You’ll notice the window was broken outward, not inward,” the armored mare told Fluttershy. “We’re wondering if maybe an animal came in while the window was open, somepony shut it, and then it broke out after killing and/or taking Rarity.” Nightmarish visions of a manticore bursting from a closet, tearing Rarity in half and then charging out into the woods to eat her flew across Fluttershy’s mind. She swallowed, a little green in the face. “What do you think, then?” she asked, gesturing around. “Animal, or no?”

Fluttershy went to the windowsill, peering out. The second-story bedroom had a sheer wall of a drop, and no nearby trees. The missing window door was on the ground in pieces, confirming something had broken out of the room rather violently. Leaning, the yellow mare examined the sill for claw marks, wear and tear, odd impressions or signs of entry. Not even any sort of slime residue to say a garden slug had been there. Rarity was quite cleanly in keeping her house, it seemed. The yellow mare studied the floor, squatting down a little. No hair, no odd pheromone scents, no… wait there was something. She stuck her head under the bed, the stinging yellow scent touching her muzzle.

“We found a poor little filly hiding under the bed there,” said one of the guards. “Name’s Sweetie Belle. Poor thing peed herself in terror, and wouldn’t stop screamin’ about monsters when we found her. We couldn’t get anything useful out of her at all,” the stallion’s voice was rough, but his expression was one of pity. “I can’t imagine somethin’ like this happening to my kid.”

Fluttershy pressed herself under the bed. She couldn’t fit. Perhaps whatever it had been was too big to reach her. She looked over her shoulder. Small enough to fit in half the window, too big to reach under the bed to grab a filly. That didn’t make any sense. Animals didn’t only kill when they were hungry. Life was not so pretty in the wild. If a beast could kill two things and gorge itself, it would. “What else did she say?” Fluttershy asked, standing up to look at the spatter of blood on the wall by the bed.

“She said it was small, like her, but she didn’t get a good look,” said one of the stallions. “But I don’t think something as small as her could drag off a grown mare. Fluttershy studied the angle of the spatter. She was no crime expert, but she could tell from the way it was… whatever it was had attacked Rarity from below. It must’ve been quite short—or used an uppercut style of attack. Again not an animal’s tactic. Beasts went for the throat, for the soft underbelly or even the eye sockets. All of those were straight-forward.

“This wasn’t an animal attack,” Fluttershy said glumly, hanging her head. “Sorry I can’t help.”

“You just helped a lot, Fluttershy, lemme tell you,” said the other stallion comfortingly. “Whatever happened to Rarity, we can rule out a few theories thanks to you. Whatever dragged her off--!” He was interrupted when Fluttershy began to whine and hyperventilate. She was staring at the spatter of blood on the floor, and the dragging marks that led to the window. Whatever had killed and/or taken Rarity without leaving an obvious trail beyond the window must’ve been very strong indeed.

“I-I need to tell my friends,” Fluttershy whimpered, tears going down her face.

“You signed before you came in, remember,” the armored mare said sharply. “You helped us a lot, but don’t make me drag you off to jail too. I know you knew… er… know, her. But you need’a give us time to find her before Ponyville panicks about a mare being snatched out of her own home, okay?”

“Y-yes officer…” Fluttershy said, hanging her head the other way. She looked towards the heavens, tears going down either side of her face. She wasn’t a praying sort of mare, but she could still beg Faust for—yeep?!

All three guards looked startled, then snapped their heads back to look at the ceiling. The high ceiling of the guest bedroom was covered with little grey horseshoe marks! They lead from the top of the window, up the wall, and across the ceiling until they stopped directly over the bed. “The fuck is that…?” whispered one of the guards.

In an odd display of brilliance the female guard pulled open the chest of drawers, getting one of Sweetie Belle’s horseshoes. Rearing up as high as she could, she held it next to one of the marks. “Not the same,” she squinted. “These are way narrower.” She came down, tossing the horseshoe to one side. "Much smaller than Sweetie Belle."

“Wh-what is this, though?!” Fluttershy whispered.

“How did we not notice that…?” mumbled the other guard, blushing a little.

“Suddenly the ‘its as small as me’ bit makes a little more sense,” mumbled the female guard pegasus. “Get the others up here. Tell them to bring ladders and their crime kits.” She looked sharply over at Fluttershy. “Ma’am, you’re free to go. Keep this to yourself,” she said.

"S-so... what, we've got a killer foal on the loose?" said one of the stallions incredulously. "That doesn't make any sense!" The armored mare glared at him and he closed his mouth in front of the panicking civilian.

The yellow mare was escorted quickly from the Carousel Boutique, and was left standing on the stoop with more tears on her face. What was going on? Where was Rarity? Wait, what happened to Sweetie Belle? Trying to be as brave as she could, Fluttershy stuck her head back in, “U-uhm, what happened to the filly you found?”

“Uh?” One of the detectives looked up from the carpet he was inspecting for strange hairs or anything. “She’s in protective custody, don’t worry ma’am. Go on, now. This is an active crime scene.” He shooed her away. Fluttershy scampered, not sure what to think or do.

=-=-=-=

Applejack, Granny Smith, and Big Macintosh stood on the edge of the circle of dead land in the orchard. Big Mac wasn’t a genius when it came to every little thing, but he was very good at math. That included circles. The circle was just a smidgen bigger than it had been before, he was sure of it. He came to the spot where he’d taken the piece of sod from the earth, gesturing.

With her earth pony strength and a spade, Applejack dug a small hole in the ground while Granny Smith went to see the dead tree. No termites, no nothing in the tree. They’d dealt with termite infestations before, this was nothing like that. And with no chemical scent or severe weather to blame… it was a mystery. “Ah don’t see any slurry or other poisons, either,” Applejack said with a frown. “There’s no mining projects around here to upset the ground water… ah just don’t get it,” She turned the soil over and over in her hoofs, as though expecting to divine some answer out of it. “It’s like the ground just up and died!”

“Yup,” said Big Mac warily. Turning, he examined the trees outside the circle of dead earth. Even the ones just outside it seemed fine. With a gesture of his head, the barrel-chested stallion turned to go check on Applebloom. The poor thing hadn’t left the house since she’d wet the bed that morning. Trotting along and out of the orchard, he passed the barn and saw the door was cracked open a bit. Hrrming in suspicion, the stallion turned and stuck his head in. Nopony in there. Cocking his head, he turned to head back to the house with a toss of his mane.

“B-i-i-i-g M-a-a-a-c….” He stopped, turning. His eyes darted around, and saw the barn door was open a few inches once more. Frowning, he cocked his head. Applebloom? The red stallion wheeled around, leaning around the edge of the door. There was a shape in the shadows, beyond the sliver of light that the sun allowed into the barn. “B-i-i-i-i-g M-a-a-a-c…” the foal whispered again. “In here.” He narrowed his eyes. What was she doin’ hidin’ in a dark barn like that? Didn’t she know the rules about all the sharp tools and stuff in there that foals need-not-oughta be messin’ with? Frowning in mild irritation, he threw the barn doors open. The crisp morning light poured into the building, but he didn’t see Applebloom anywhere.

“M’sorry Big Mac,” the stallion jumped like he’d been slapped on the ass when Applebloom appeared behind him. She had her little apple buckets strapped to her sides, ready to do her daily chores. Which, in truth, she was about three hours behind on. But, weird things had been happening so everypony was behind today. "Ah’ll get on my chores…” she croaked a little, her voice unsteady like she’d been crying. Big Mac smiled warmly, leaning down to nuzzle her withers. Everypony had a bad day now and then… Applebloom’s just happened to involve bed-wetting. Must’ve been some nightmare, he thought. He put a hoof around her in a one-armed hug, then let her go as she pleased. When she was gone, he turned back to head towards the orchard.

“B-i-i-i-i-g M-a-a-a-a-c…” the little voice in the barn croaked.

Big Macintosh froze, ears turning up and forward. The yellow speck that was Applebloom was still wandering towards the orchards. He turned around with a startled neigh, throwing the barn doors open again. He was greeted with a black space, which startled him. It wasn’t dark in there. It was black. Like somepony had forgotten to leave the inside of the barn—inside the barn, and had left a void of nothingness there instead. The stallion’s inner alarms started going off like mad and he backed up as quickly as he could.

Something wrapped around his ankle, something like a tiny set of legs. He whinnied in panic as he was dragged bodily towards the blackness. Reaching with both arms he slammed the doors shut before he could be dragged inside. His ankle broke when whatever it was kept pulling him. The barn doors didn’t swing inward! They didn’t! Squirming and tugging on himself despite the white-hot agony in his leg, he gave a belting cry when he was bashed repeatedly against the sturdy wooden doors. Bash! Bash! Bash! BASH! “Big Ma-a-a-a-a-c….” BASH-BASH-BASH-BASH-BASH! The muscled farm-pony rag-dolled around, panting and slathering in exhaustion. Whatever was holding him dragged him into the air along the crack between the doors by one leg. He flailed, holding the doors shut until he finally propped them closed with his own weight. Then it stopped jerking him around and began to pull instead. The red stallion roared in pain, sure his leg would just rip right off. Then, suddenly and without warning, Big Mac’s weight was pulled through the barn doors. Wood splintered in all directions as they were forced inward. The massive stallion was consumed by darkness, his scream of terror cut short as soon as he vanished from sight.

It would be hours before anypony found the little spatter of blood on the ground, along with one of Big Mac’s massive horseshoes. That was all that was left of him.