Nothing Stays Buried Forever
Chapter 1: Mud by Name, Mud by Nature
Chapter One: Mud by Name, Mud by Nature
"...Reluctantly, the elder sister harnessed the most powerful magic known to Ponydom: The Elements of Harmony. Using the magic of The Elements of Harmony, she defeated her younger sister and banished her permanently in the moon. The elder sister took on responsibility for both sun and moon, and harmony has been maintained in Equestria for generations since..."
Damn.
With a sigh, I closed the book and slid it to the side of my old wooden desk. This would mark the twenty-ninth time I'd read about the origins of Nightmare Moon, yet the story was still just as enthralling as the first. The only problem was that finishing the book only served to bring me back to the depressing normalcy of the present.
The present sucked.
I was no longer watching the royal sisters battle for the fate of Equestria, staring in awe as the two most powerful alicorns in history lit up the inky night sky. No, now I was back in the dusty, cramped, one room shack that passed for my home. Now I was watching dust particles float through rays of sunshine filtering through cracks in my ceiling. I leaned forward, propped my head up with my forehooves and closed my eyes. I just wanted to let my imagination take me through the tale one more time...
A soft knock at the front door shattered my daydream before it could even take shape.
"Seven?" a voice called from outside. "Seven, are you in there?"
Go away. I'm not here. Shoo.
The pony at my door needed to disappear. I knew what he was here for. It was the absolute last thing I wanted today. Or any day, really.
"Seven." Another, louder knock. "Seven, I know you're in there. You're always in there. Open up, please."
Sighing again, I heaved myself off the chair, plodding heavily across the room. I flipped up the lock, opened the door a crack and peered out. Standing outside was a brownish-red earth pony with a dirty grey mane and a cutie mark of thread being fed through the eye of a needle.
"Oh, hey there Pin Cushion." I put on my best fake enthusiasm, trying not to be upset at him for disturbing me. From the flat look on his face I could only assume that he did not want to be here either. He had probably been told to fetch me. Again. "What can I do for you?"
Pin Cushion's expression didn't change. "You know why I'm here, Seven. Lookouts reported that our ponies are almost back," He nodded to the side, droning in his usual monotone "You know they’ll want you to help move stuff that needs to go to the lower levels. Also," he added, arching a brow in my direction, "Mud Bucket wants to know why you didn't come in this morning. He had some things he wanted you to do. I'm willing to bet he'll want any supplies the team bring back recorded too. He sent me to get you, so let's go."
Damn it.
“Hang on.” I grabbed my saddlebags and slipped them on before stepping outside. With a depressing series of clicks, the door shut and locked behind me.
As I turned away from my home, the town of Mudtrough greeted me, just like it had greeted me yesterday, and the day before, and all the days before that, stretching back further than I cared to remember. Mud by name, mud by nature.
Yup, the present sucked.
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As the author, I would like to take a brief interlude to get some of the boring stuff out of the way. This is my story, and as you may have already guessed, my name is Seven. I am a resident of the oh so lovely town of Mudtrough. Actually, in hindsight, ‘town’ is probably too generous a word to describe the place. Settlement is closer to the truth.
Regardless of the label, Mudtrough sucked. Well, with a name like Mudtrough, would you be surprised? I hated this place almost as much as I hated the present, and that was saying something. It was established near the base of the Foal Mountains that just happened to be whap-bang in the middle of nowhere. I guess the closest major city would be Fillydelphia, but that was at least a week's trot away; probably more. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, however, Mudtrough’s location was no coincidence. It was backed by mountains on one side and overlooked neighboring foothills in almost every other direction. From a strategic point of view, it was almost perfect: isolated, on high ground and virtually inaccessible from one entire direction.
The settlement itself was centered around a giant mud pit. Yeah, go figure. Imagine I’m rolling my eyes right now. Local townsponies had learned how to make pit-mud and clay into just about anything, though it was mostly used for bricks and construction. The pit had actually been dug out by hoof and the "levels" Pin Cushion mentioned earlier were the three large terraces that rose up in it like giant rings. The whole effect made Mudtrough look like some giant, dirty, oddly shaped crater if viewed from the air.
The lower terrace was right by the edge of the pit and used mostly for construction and crafting. From sunup to sundown you could find ponies molding and shaping everything from bricks and shingles to pottery. Firing furnaces and drying tables dotted the back edge in fairly even intervals and they were almost always in use.
A little ways above, the middle terrace was reserved mostly for storage. We kept the majority of our crop harvest there along with other supplies. Some of the more impoverished ponies, especially non-citizens, also lived there.
The upper terrace consisted of residential buildings and various shops. It was here my wonderful little abode could be found. This level also housed our town hall, which was really nothing more than an "unofficial official" building where the mayor worked and townsponies gathered to discuss matters of importance. When I wasn't dodging my responsibilities, the town hall was where I worked. In addition, fully half of the upper terrace was also devoted to our fields and orchards. Because of this, the top tier of the settlement was by far the largest, extending almost all the way back to the base of the mountains.
To top it all off, the whole town was surrounded by an eight foot high wall, made mostly of (go on, guess – I’ll bet you get it right) mud bricks. Did you guess correctly? Of course you did. I’ll bet you didn’t guess about the bits and pieces of scavenged metal and wood worked into the design, though. A walkway ran around the entirety of the inside of the wall, and lookouts were posted at regular intervals all the way around.
Mudtrough wasn't a terrible place to live. On the contrary, it was quite safe, reasonably well stocked and the ponies that lived here were good ponies. It was just so ... well, muddy. Everything and everypony was brown. The whole place was a physical elegy to dirt, mud, clay and wood. Not to mention the smell of wet earth that permeated everything. Good luck trying to smell good around these parts.
No, it wasn't a terrible place to be, but I still hated it something fierce.
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As one of Mudtrough's few pegasi, having me help move the things our teams brought back to the lower levels was not only faster, but easier if the objects were large or unwieldy. More than one pony had been hurt when they slipped on a dirt ramp or tripped over a rock while carrying something clunky down to storage. In truth, I didn't mind lending a hoof. It was the inevitable confrontation with the mayor I was dreading. You see, I can read and write, and that’s a skill set not everypony in town had. Colts and fillies got little to no education. Why would they need it? Instead, they were trained by family and friends in specific trades. Most everything I learned had been self taught.
Because of this, Mayor Mud Bucket (yes, that's really his name, and yes, he does have a cutie mark to match) had appointed me as "Town Scribe". That’s a lot less impressive than it sounds, trust me. Whenever the mayor wanted to have a record of something, like a dispute between two townsponies, or a field report from our scouts, it was my job to write it down for him. I also recorded everything the scavengers brought back and gave it to our quartermaster so she could keep inventory.
Being the scribe was great because it kept me away from some of the more laborious jobs, like being a brick-shaper or a waste disposal pony. However, being the scribe was also more boring than watching mud bricks dry, so I tended to, uh, miss work some days. A lot of days, actually. The fact that Pin Cushion had been sent to retrieve me yet again meant I was probably way behind in my work and Mayor Mud Bucket was not happy about it.
My suspicions were confirmed when Pin Cushion and I reached the front gate. The mayor was waiting there, looking especially cross. As soon as Pin Cushion saw Mud Bucket's expression, he excused himself to talk with the hoof-ful of other ponies congregating by the gate. In the blink of an eye the mayor was in my face.
"Damn it all, Seven!" His nostrils flared. "Where have you been? I understand that you don't like your job, but you can't just disappear when everyone else is working hard! We survive here because we all work together! You know that ..."
I let my mind drift as Mud Bucket continued his tirade. He only had four or five speeches he liked to give when he was reprimanding somepony. I'd heard them all before. This one sounded like it was going to be a variant of "We all work together or we die together". These rants tended to go on for a solid minute or two, but both Mud Bucket's tongue lashing and my thoughts were interrupted one of the lookouts on the wall.
"They're back! Open the gate!"
Mayor Mud Bucket trotted over to the growing group of ponies standing around the gate, but not before shooting me one last dirty look. He waved a hoof at the small crowd. "Get back, get back! Come on, now. They can't get inside if you block the entrance."
The crowd backed up collectively, though the ponies seemed reluctant to do so. Satisfied there was enough space, Mud Bucket gave a nod to the two large earth ponies by the gate. Each robust pony threw his weight against buttresses jutting from the woodwork. Slowly, the large gateway started to slide sideways on its track. After a few moments, the gate was opened enough to allow entry and the two ponies headed around to the other side of the buttresses, ready to close the gate as soon as the team was inside.
Two grubby earth ponies and one even grubbier unicorn hurried past them. Each earth pony towed a small wagon, but only one of the wagons contained anything. I couldn't see much over the crowd, but based on their worried murmurs, it didn't sound like there was much of anything to look at. As soon as the trio was inside, the gate ponies reversed their previous procedure and the wooden gate slid closed with a dull boom.
Before the earth ponies could even get themselves unhitched from their wagons, the crowd had swarmed them. Everypony seemed to be asking questions about the trip, what they had brought, where they had gone, or how the outside was. I saw several eyeing things on the wagon, but not one of them was foolish enough to touch or take anything until it had been inventoried and stored. Mayor Mud Bucket would have their hides if they tried anything and they knew it.
The scavenger unicorn trotted over to me. She had dirt ground into her coat so thoroughly you could hardly tell it was mint green underneath. Her streaky emerald mane looked like it had been caught in a tornado. Despite looking like something that had wandered the wrong way into Tartarus, she still managed a cheerful smile.
"Heya, Seven. You here to take inventory?"
"Oh, uh, yep!" I opened my saddlebag and fished out a long piece of parchment. "Ready when you are...um..." Crap. I was totally blanking on her name.
She looked familiar. I think we had talked before. I definitely knew I’d seen her in passing fairly frequently. Unfortunately, I didn't spend much time with other ponies in town. I could remember faces pretty well, but I was so very terrible when it came to names. I knew Pin Cushion because he always was sent to fetch me. I knew the quartermaster, Lockright, because I was always delivering things to her. I could not, however, remember who this pony was.
"Ah ..." Stalling to give my brain time to remember, I spread the parchment out on a nearby crate and tried to sneak a peek at her flank in the hope that her cutie mark would jog my memory. Given that her flank was covered in so much grime her cutie mark was invisible, that didn't help.
Her smile wilted . "Leaflet. It's me, Leaflet." She kicked the dirt with a hoof. "Don't you remember? We ate lunch at the same time last week." If I didn't know better, I'd have said she looked almost hurt. "We ... we talked a bunch. About stuff. Together. Over Lunch. Did you … forget?"
My face burned with embarrassment. She was right, of course. She had sat at a table across from me while I was eating lunch a few days ago. We had chatted a little, but the only thing on my mind that day had been how much I didn't want to take dictation from the mayor in the afternoon. I hardly remembered the conversation at all. Apparently it had meant much more to her.
Crap!
"I, uh, sorry." I quickly snatched the pencil from my saddlebag in my mouth to avoid any more conversation. Just to be sure our interaction was over, I turned to the pile of goods on the wagons.
I tried not to notice as Leaflet waited a moment before trundling away.
================================
Getting everything cataloged and stored didn't take too long. Leaflet and her team hadn’t had much luck out there. We finished in the late afternoon. I had managed to avoid the mayor almost entirely, which meant I now had the whole evening for myself.
As I closed the door to Quartermaster Lockright's office, I was already formulating my plan for tonight. I would get something to eat from one of the upper terrace shops, take it back to my place, soak in a bath and then disappear back into my books until I was ready for bed.
That plan lasted all of about two minutes.
I had just turned down the path leading to most of the food shops when I saw Mayor Mud Bucket leaning against a building, waiting. Crap. There went my evening.
"Ah, Seven." Mud Bucket gestured for me to come closer. "There you are. I was hoping we could finish our talk from this afternoon."
I flapped my wings once in frustration, kicking up a small cloud of dust behind me, but didn't say anything. If I just let him finish saying whatever he was going to say, maybe I could get on with my evening in peace.
"Now then," the mayor began once I was close enough, "I know you're busy with your, um...things you do at your house most days."
"History.” Frustration started to simmer. "I study our history. I seem to be the only pony around here who cares about what happened and how we got here, instead of just surviving from day to day or inventing new ways to make things out of mud."
"All right, all right. Calm down, son." Mud Bucket kept his voice low. I suspected he wasn't interested in getting into a full blown argument in the middle of the street. "Look, I know studying history is important to you, and I am happy to let you do it. Really, I am." He paused. I could tell he was choosing his next words carefully. "And, as much as you say there is more to life than just surviving, survival comes first. You understand, yes?"
I snorted loudly. My patience was growing thin. "Okay, mayor. I've been working all afternoon. I'm tired. I know I've been slacking lately and I'm sorry, but right now I just really want to go home." My tail flicked involuntarily as I tried to keep my cool. "Did you want something?"
My outburst didn't get any reaction. Mud Bucket’s tone remained calm. "Yes, Seven, there is. You know the rules we have here, right?"
I nodded. I did. I had to. Everypony who grew up or settled here had to memorize Mudtrough's rules. There were only a few and, while they were simple, you had to memorize them all if you wanted to become an official citizen. Citizens were rationed more food than non-citizens and could request things from the quartermaster. Also, citizens could work any job they were qualified for. Non-citizens could only work manual labor. Committing those laws to memory had been high on my list of priorities once I was old enough. I was an official citizen of Mudtrough, complete with all the perks and (ahem) ‘prestige’ that came with the title.
"So you know that everyone has to take a turn now and then going outside to bring in supplies. We all take turns so it's fair."
I nodded again. He was building up to something.
"Town records indicate that you haven't been outside in –"
I opened my mouth to protest, but Mud Bucket held up a hoof to silence me.
"I know, I know. You don't like it. Nopony likes going out there, Seven." He sighed heavily. "I've tried to cover for you. Kept telling ponies you were busy doing work for me and that you could take your turn soon." His nostrils flared.
Here it comes.
"But you keep skipping out on me and ponies notice you're not around." He stomped the ground angrily. "Now I’ve got ponies whispering behind my back that I'm "playing favorites" and that you aren't pulling your weight around here." The mayor fixed me with a cold stare, eyes narrowing. "I will not have my townsponies fighting among themselves or undermining my authority. The world out there is trying to eat us alive. We don't need to be doing the same to each other in here." He grabbed a rolled up parchment from his saddlebag and tossed it at my hooves. "You've no doubt noticed we've been hauling lighter loads for a while now." He shook his head. "Seems like every place around here has been stripped clean for some time, but while the weather is clear like it has been, we need to capitalize on it. I'm sending another team the day after tomorrow. You are going with them."
"But-"
The mayor's hoof again silenced any potential argument I may have had. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you." He gestured to the parchment. "That's a map of our surrounding area. Any place we've already cleaned out or that's already been picked over is marked, so with a little luck, you'll be able to find someplace that still has something we can use. You don't have to bring back a lot, just bring back something. I'll expect your decision first thing tomorrow morning."
With that, the mayor turned and started to walk away. Yet he paused after a few steps. He looked back over his shoulder at me.
"I like you, Seven, I really do. You're smart, and you are helpful around here. I think you're a good kid, and I'm glad you think there's more to life than just surviving. I'm sorry, but you need to do this for me, or you're going to need someplace else to live." He rounded the corner and was gone before I could respond.
The … outside?
I picked up the map in my teeth and stuffed it into one of my saddlebags. Flapping my wings a couple of times, I took to the air and set myself on a direct course for home. Suddenly I was not very hungry. As much as I disliked Mudtrough, being outside was infinitely worse. Compared with the outside, this muddy brown crater could be considered paradise. In here, we were safe. Outside, death waited for you with empty eyes and gnashing teeth. Everypony learned that as a foal. In here, there was always the quiet bustle of ponies going about their business. Outside, the world was oppressively silent. It was common knowledge: inside good, outside bad.
In here, we had control. Outside, the world belonged to the dead.
Nothing Stays Buried Forever
Chapter 2: A Lesson in History
Chapter 2: A Lesson in History
Have you ever seen a zombie?
I mean really seen one, not in a picture, or on one of those old recordings made during the war. Have you seen one personally? Have you been close enough to look into their glazed, milky eyes, or hear that moan like they’re still in the middle of dying? Have you been close enough to smell that disgusting mix of rotten flesh and unholy magic they give off?
I have.
So had everyone else in Mudtrough. You couldn't go far outside the walls without seeing at least one – and there very rarely was there only one. They’re like cockroaches that way. In a lot of ways, actually. Zombies, Walkers, Trotters, Zed Heads, Biters, Ghouls and Geeks – they’ve had a lot of names but it didn't change what they were: the parting gift Equestria received after her last war.
They were always out there. Always. They wandered aimlessly, constantly looking for food. Well, let’s be pedantic, shall we? Constantly looking for somepony to tear limb from limb. Constantly looking to spread their awful plague to anypony foolish enough to get bitten.
And now Mud Bucket was sending me out there, into their world.
Bastard.
As soon as I made it through my front door my saddlebags hit the floor and I was drawing a hot bath. Just the thought of exposing myself to the dead again gave me chills. My head was so full of the last time I encountered them, I wasn't really paying attention and the bath water ended up scalding hot. I didn't care; I wanted heat and I wanted it at the very moment. Scalding hot meant the water would cool slower. A long soak would give me time to mull things over properly.
Mixed feelings of guilt and anger about Mud Bucket's ultimatum bounced off the sides of my skull. On one hoof, he was absolutely right, much as it pained me to admit it. It had been a very long time since I took a turn outside. In truth, I should have known my number was due; I kept the records, after all. Part of me wondered why I hadn’t had the foresight to see this coming and ‘edit’ things to get myself off the hook. The punishment for committing forgery would probably be infinitely worse than this, though. My luck didn’t run to me getting away with something like that. Every record keeper in history probably fudged things now and then, but I’d be the one to get caught.
Plus, if ponies really were starting to talk about Mud Bucket behind his back, then as mayor he had made the correct choice. Mud Bucket was the only real authority figure here and if he was discredited for any reason it might be hard to keep the peace. Whispers of dissent often lead to worse things, and any sort of infighting or revolution could easily obliterate the delicate balance that kept our settlement from sliding into the mud or down the zombies’ throats.
On the other hoof, however, I was pissed off.
It wasn't fair! I always helped unload and carry what other teams brought in, I recorded all the supplies and I tried not to use more than my fair share. Just because I didn't constantly volunteer to go out into Ghoul-questria didn't mean I wasn't doing my part!
However, in the end it didn't matter. Mud Bucket was a pony of his word: if I didn't spend a day or so outside scavenging for supplies and doing my best not to get eaten, I was going to be homeless and spend all my time on the wrong side of the walls anyway. Keeping everypony who lived here safe and happy was his only priority. If he had to cut loose a pony who wasn’t willing to pull his weight in order to achieve that goal it, he would do it. I had seen it before. It wasn’t pretty. Trust me on that.
There wasn't any getting out of this.
Finally tamping down my inner ‘Oh hell no!’ and resigning myself to the supply run, I lifted my body out of the soothing, if no longer quite so hot water. I dried off and went to have a look at my brand spanking new map. Before I could get to my saddlebags, however, there was a knock at the door.
Twice in one day? I’m so privileged. What the hay does Pin Cushion want this late?
I opened the door a crack, expecting to see the familiar red-brown earth pony and his flat expression. Instead I saw a grubby green unicorn with a streaky emerald mane smiling up at me.
My mind ticked over into recent memories. "Leaflet?"
"Hi, Seven!" Leaflet's smile from earlier in the afternoon returned in full force. Funny how mares are so impressed by stupid little things – like a guy remembering her name. Was that a sign of low intelligence or expectations?
There was a long pause. I expected her to say something – anything, really. Instead she seemed perfectly content to stand there and wait for me to make the next move.
"Can I, er … what are you doing here?" I finally managed. Maybe not the most eloquent or intelligent sounding words, but words nonetheless. Social cues aren’t my forte.
"Oh!” She seemed surprised at the question. "Well ... okay. Right. I mean … right." She looked either side of her, as if she was just as surprised as me that she was on my doorstep. Personally I was also surprised she knew it was my doorstep. Has she been following me? "I didn't see you at dinner with everypony tonight, so ... I thought you might be hungry?" Her voice turned up at the end, changing what should have been a statement into a question. Her horn began to glow with dark green magic and a small square wrapped in paper floated out of her saddlebag. "I brought you a sandwich?"
Aren’t you sure that’s what it is? "Oh. Um, that was very … nice of you.” Great use of adjectives there, Sir Read-a-Lot. “But I'm pretty busy right now and I don't really feel like-" With expert timing, my stomach gurgled so loud we both heard it. Apparently even though I was not in the mood to eat, my body was. I cleared my throat. "Yes. Well … I guess a sandwich does sound good, actually." I reached out to accept Leaflet's offer. "Um, thank you?" Buck, now she’s got me doing it.
The sandwich didn't move any closer. It just hovered there, next to Leaflet's head. She helpfully said nothing. I started to get uncomfortable, shifting my weight around on my hooves.
"Would you … like to come in?" I tried.
"Okay!" Bingo. As if I had uttered a magic word, Leaflet started moving again. I had barely nudged the door open wide enough for her when she trotted into my house like it was the most normal thing in the world. The sandwich dropped into my outstretched hoof. “You’re welcome.”
By the time I had closed the door, she was already seated on my bed and had her saddlebags off and open. It was entirely too familiar behavior for my tastes. My skin crawled under my fur. Her horn was glowing again. She was probably rooting around for something else in there. A bomb maybe? No, she didn’t seem the type.
"So, uh, sit anywhere, I guess,” I said needlessly. Sarcasm crept into my tone. “Make yourself comfortable." At this point, my words felt more like permission than an actual invitation, but since the only other real place to sit was the old rickety wooden stool by the desk, I couldn't really blame her for nabbing the bed. Something about a mare I barely knew sitting on it, though … I didn’t like it. I wasn’t sure I even liked her.
Leaflet rustled around in her bags for a few moments more before producing a paper wrapped square identical to the one she had given me. "Aha! Found it. Now we can eat."
We?
"Hey, wait," I protested, walking over to the desk and placing my sandwich on it. "I thought you said you didn't see me at dinner, so you decided to come over with food after."
"Well, yeah." Leaflet’s expression indicated that, clearly, this should be common sense. "I didn't see you there, and when I asked Pin Cushion where you were, he said you were probably 'locked up in his shack full of old junk.'" Her impression of Pin Cushion's flat, expressionless voice wasn't even close. "And then I remembered how we ate lunch together last week because you were alone, and since you were probably alone now, I figured we could do it again." Her telekinesis unwrapped her sandwich as she spoke. "So I got two sandwiches from Twig's shop and brought them here." She punctuated her words story by floating the now unwrapped sandwich to her mouth and taking a frighteningly large bite. "Tu-duh!" she announced, muffled through her mouthful of food.
I unwrapped my own sandwich and took a much more civilized bite, making a point to both chew and swallow before opening my mouth to speak. "Thank you, Leaflet,” I said crisply. “It’s very nice." There go those adjectives again. Stop it or you’ll strain something, Seven.
"Oor welfum!"
We ate the rest of our meal in silence. I didn't have a whole lot to say and was still feeling pretty uncomfortable with an uninvited guest. Leaflet, on the other hoof, devoured my home with her eyes. Her gaze darted all over and she looked like she wanted to say or ask something more than once. Thankfully, her ridiculously large mouthfuls kept her from speaking. It wasn't until after we had both finished and had been sitting quietly for a while that she spoke up,
"So..."
"Yes?" I practically shouted, startled by the sudden break in the quiet. Smooth, idiot, real smooth.
Leaflet gestured vaguely towards one of the many piles of books, folders, and boxes that covered almost every wall of my home. "What is all this stuff?"
"This stuff is my collection of history," I replied, feeling that familiar twinge of frustration. "Our history. Pony history."
"All of it?" Leaflet asked, eyes wide as she took in just how much of my home my collection occupied.
I nodded. "Yes. While not everything here is focused on history itself, all of this is from Equestria's past. The majority is dated from before the war, too."
"All of it? Wow! What exactly do you have in here?" Leaflet shot me a curious look.
The question caught me off guard. I had to remind myself that nopony actually cared about this stuff other than me. She was just being polite. I tapped a hoof to my chin in thought. "Uh, well, everything here is recorded information in some form. I have books, old newspapers, and magazines, among other things. I even have some of those recordings you can't play without that ‘technology’ that isn't around much anymore. Everything is a source of information of some form. There were lots of ways to communicate with one another back then." I shifted my weight, trying to gauge her reaction.
"Oh. Okay. Neat." Leaflet levitated a book off the top of a nearby pile and floated it over to herself. "The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. Huh." She placed the book on the bed next to her. "So where do you get all this stuff? And why bother with it? I mean, some of it could be interesting, I guess, but ... I don't know. I just don't get it. Sorry." She actually sounded embarrassed.
I offered her a small smile. It felt like the right thing to do. "Don't worry about it. Nopony really concerns themselves with this sort of thing nowadays." I sighed inwardly, wondering if I would have to explain myself to everypony I met for the rest of my life. "To be fair, there are much more important things we need to be concerned with in the present." I placed a hoof on my empty sandwich wrapping. "Here in Mudtrough we have food, water, and reasonable degree of safety and isolation from the dangers outside. We're pretty lucky. Other settlements may not be as fortunate."
Leaflet nodded but didn't say anything.
"That doesn't really answer your question, though, does it?" I trotted over to the pile of books nearest her. "I've lived here since I was a young colt. Most of this is stuff I've bought, requisitioned, or traded for. Every now and then caravans will come by the town and sometimes have things I'm looking for. Nopony really wants it, so it's easy for me to get, but," I added, running a hoof over one of the book covers, "I have to admit, most of the time the ponies who go out on supply runs don't bother with things like books or newspapers. They're not essential, so they get left behind. It makes logical sense, even if it’s so mercenary it makes me sick. As vast as my collection may appear, it's appallingly incomplete. There are huge gaps of time I still know almost nothing about, especially during the outbreak and the war." I sighed heavily. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to really understand Equestrian history."
It was strange: this was probably the longest single conversation I had ever had since … well, ever. This was certainly the most I had ever talked to somepony about something that was important to me. Most ponies couldn’t give a rat’s behind about my passions, so long as I did my work and they didn’t have to pick up after me. Being able to share, even just this little bit, felt... kind of nice, actually.
Also? A little frightening. Here I was spilling my guts about the work that I had spent years of my life on, yet I didn't have the slightest clue why I was telling Leaflet all this, of all ponies. I barely knew her. Until today her name was a blurry half-memory in the garbage pile of my mind. Maybe it was because she was the first pony to ask in earnest about me and my work. Maybe it was because I was stressed and worried about going outside the walls and she just happened to be here to talk to. Maybe... no, this was just too weird. I hardly knew her at all. I shouldn't be giving her my life story. It was time to shut up.
"This is probably boring you to death." I turned back to Leaflet and shrugged. "I'll nerd out about this stuff if you'll let me. Didn't mean to talk your head off."
I had expected Leaflet to look bored, or confused, or to have even possibly fallen asleep during my rambling. Instead, she was just sitting on my bed, watching me intently. "No, that's all right," she said, shaking her head a little. "I don't mind. I can tell this is really important to you." She ran a hoof through her grubby mane. It looked like she had tried to clean herself up since I last saw her. A losing battle in a settlement built on mud. "I mean, I guess it should be important to me, too. I was born here. I've been in Mudtrough my whole life. This is all I know."
A frown crept across her features. "So, wait. You know all this stuff about what happened before, and what ponies used to be like, and I've never really given it any thought at all. Am I ... do you think I'm dumb? That all the ponies here are dumb for not learning any of this?"
"What?” Yes. “No!" Great, now she thinks I think the whole town is stupid. Which, okay, I do, but I don’t want them to know about it. "No, Leaflet.” I said emphatically. “I don't think you or anypony else here is dumb." I sat back on my haunches and tried out a couple of expressions I hoped were reassuring, although it’s quite possible I looked like I was having a seizure. "Not knowing something because you've never had the opportunity to know it doesn't make you dumb." Truthfully, it probably landed these ponies somewhere closer to ignorant than dumb. "Leaflet, the world has changed a lot since these books were relevant,"
I tapped the cover of The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide next to her for emphasis. "There was a time when knowing history and magic and studying technology was important, but nowadays things like knowing how to farm, how to build sturdy homes, and how to stay alive against the zombies are more important," I lifted the book off the bed and put it back on the pile. "I study our past because it's important to me, but without everypony else knowing how and working together to survive, I wouldn't have the safety and freedom to do what I do here."
Leaflet's expression remained unchanged.
"Tell you what," I said, tapping my forehooves together. "If and when all of this zombie stuff is over, and Equestria is back to the way it used to be, if you still feel like this and want to learn about history, how about I teach you everything I know?” I added with a chuckle, "It’d be nice to have someone to talk to about it. Plus, you get the benefit of knowing just how much outdated, useless information is in my head.”
"Heh, all right," Leaflet giggled quietly, "Deal."
Wait, we just made a deal? Are we supposed to spit-shake on it now or something?
She straightened up on my bed and poked my wing with her hoof. "But now you have to tell me why all this is important to you. You keep saying it is, but not why, and not how you became interested in it in the first place."
I flapped the wing outward, batting her hoof away before she could poke me again. She drew her hoof back like it had been burned. "Okay, okay," I acquiesced, "It's not like it's a great story or anything, though, so don't get your hopes up."
Holding her hoof against her chest, Leaflet leaned forward. "Go on."
"History is my passion," I began, shifting a little. "Honestly, it's a little hard to describe why it means so much to me." I paused, searching for the right words to describe how I felt. "How did you get your cutie mark?"
Leaflet recoiled a little from the non-sequiter. "Huh? My cutie mark?"
"Yeah, what happened when you got it?"
"Um, I was watering the baby plants behind town. You know, helping one of the older ponies in the garden? Since I was only a little filly back then there weren't a whole lot of things I was allowed to do." A smile lit up her face. "I had just watered an apple tree sapling and I ... I remember thinking how amazing it was that this tree would eventually grow up and feed ponies. I loved being able to help the tree get big and strong, so that in some way I would be helping other ponies, too." She patted her flank lovingly. "Next thing I know, my backside feels a little tingly-tingle and when I turned around, there it was." Leaflet's cutie mark was a picture of a seedling surrounded by little droplets of water.
"So, it just clicked for you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "Sort of like you just knew this was something you really wanted to do?"
"It sure did!" She sounded proud.
Must be nice. Wait, shut up brain.
I shrugged, holding up my forehooves. "Well, that's just like how it was for me, though I was reading a book when it happened, not watering trees." Leaflet's hoof began inching towards my wing again. “I was reading Defending Equestria: An Abridged History of Heroes, Past and Present." Scooting sideways so she could see my flank, I continued, "That's probably why my cutie mark is a picture of an open book overlaid on top of a shield. See?"
Leaflet's hoof had stopped while she looked at my cutie mark, but once she had taken a look it advanced towards my wing once more. Hadn’t she ever seen wings before? "Yes. And?"
"And since then I've always had this strong desire to learn about our history." I sighed. "I just want to know. I have to know. Maybe we could have stopped things from getting so bad. Even if we couldn't, I still want to know. Wouldn't you?"
Leaflet tilted her head but didn't answer. That was getting really annoying.
"Somepony has to retain all this,” I insisted. “To pass on the knowledge." My ears drooped as I continued. "I think it would be terrible if all of this was lost and forgotten. It would be like ... like forgetting who we are, or where we came from, as ponies. Or something. I don't know. I guess I suck at explaining it after all." I studied the floor intensely, inexplicably embarrassed at my failed attempted to express my feelings.
Neither of us said anything for a while after that. The house was quiet, except for the hushed sounds of ponies going about their evening business trickling in from outside.
Without any warning, Leaflet sprang off my bed. "This was fun, Seven! Thanks for inviting me over for dinner!" As if I had sent her a gilded invitation or something? She gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder and headed for the door.
"Um, yeah. Wait, what?"
"We should do this again sometime," she said, looking back at me. Her horn flared with magic and my front door opened on its own. "I'll see you around! Don't forget about our deal!"
Before I could reply, the door had closed behind her and I was alone once more. I sat in stunned silence. Leaflet certainly had a … what was a less insulting word than ‘annoying’? A quirky personality. Yeah, that would do. Yet at the same time I couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than that. There was more than sheer ditziness behind her eyes. At least she had spared me and left before the conversation got any more awkward.
Leaflet also appeared to have been listening to me, not just hearing me, something I don't think anypony in Mudtrough had done before. Most of them wouldn’t even get the difference between the two. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I realized that was both the nicest and yet weirdest ‘dinner date’ I'd ever had. Actually, it was the first date I'd ever had so I guess it would have been those things by default. That and I was clearly an idiot as well as a social pariah.
Still, now that I had eaten and Leaflet was gone, there was work to do. The mayor was expecting me to pick some place to scour for supplies, and when he said he wanted that information first thing in the morning, he didn’t mean a morning of my choice. I fished the rolled up map out of my saddlebags and spread it out across my desk.
Initial inspection suggested the map itself had to be pretty old. I guessed it had been made some time before or during the war. It had to have been, really. It hadn’t been drawn by hoof or horn. It had been printed.
Printing technology had been very common before the outbreak but now finding the right machines and ponies who knew how to work them was exceedingly rare. I was especially surprised that the map was in pretty close to perfect condition. Years of neglect, abuse, or exposure to the elements was not healthy for books and paper, but despite some minor damage around the edges, this map was in great shape.
Large print in the upper left corner read Western Greater Fillydelphia Metropolitan Area and Outlying Suburbs. Next to the title was a warning: "Property of the ELF. Distribution or reproduction of this document is strictly prohibited."
Equestrian Loyalist Forces? This was military, printed sometime after the war began.
On the east side of the map was part of Fillydelphia itself. The scale made it impossible to discern a lot of detail, but major roads, highways, and landmarks were distinctly labeled. Smaller roads were also labeled and crisscrossed the city. There were so many lines and letters I had to squint to make out some of the names. I fetched my magnifying glass to get a better look. Beyond the densely packed urban area were suburbs that extended like a huge ring around the city. I had learned from my reading that this area was where the majority of ponies who worked in the city lived. They would travel into the centre to do whatever it was they did, and then come back to their homes at night. There just wasn't enough room in the city to house everypony, plus city living itself had apparently been quite expensive, especially when things started getting bad. My guess was that these less populated areas were probably cheaper and a lot more aesthetically pleasing.
The suburbs extended a long way, gradually becoming less populated, until they bled into farms and fields at the edges. The map continued a short way beyond the city limits, to where there was a whole lot of nothing except plains and dark green forests leading up to the base of the Foal Mountain range. Near the mountains, by the northwest corner of the map, somepony had drawn an oval shape and labeled it "Mudtrough" in hoofwriting. There was also a splotch of forest just visible along the southern edge of the map. That had to be the start of the forest that separated Fillydelphia from Baltimare and Horseshoe Bay beyond.
I scanned the area surrounding Mudtrough on the map, trying to ignore how it ruined the pristine glass of the printed page. A number of red "X" marks noted locations that had already been searched. From the placement of the marks, it was clear most of our teams had stuck to the farms and sparsely populated suburban areas closest to town. No doubt these areas were the safest and therefore the most logical choices. There were a few scattered "X"s in some of the more dense areas, but those were few and far between. Of course; that was verging on known zombie territory.
According to the map, nopony had dared to go anywhere near Fillydelphia itself, and for good reason. The more heavily populated an area was, the more ponies there were to be infected during the outbreak. Fillydelphia was probably a shambling, groaning hive of undead ponies and who knows what else. Not only ponies were infected, after all, and monsters were even worse when they were already expired. Going anywhere near there would be suicide. Of course, since it was so dangerous, the greatest concentration of untouched supplies would probably be in the city as well.
I shook my head, quickly dismissing that idea. I just wanted to go out and back and get this over with. This wasn’t about being successful; it was about being seen to do my part. The fewer zombies I had to deal with, the better. Closer was definitely better, even if most nearby places had already been picked clean.
Almost every single one of the nearby farms had been marked with an "X". The closest unmarked one was some distance south, almost a whole day's travel away. While that didn't sound so bad, any other surviving ponies who were holed up in this area probably had the same idea. I could get all the way to those farms and find they had been picked clean and it was a completely wasted trip. I wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible, but there was a difference between not finding much and not finding anything. Coming back empty hoofed would be just as bad as not going in Mud Bucket’s eyes.
I turned my attention to areas closer to the city. There were several tempting targets I reasoned to myself were not too far away. Chief among these was a hospital. The map labeled it Brightmane General Hospital. There were no marks anywhere near it. I briefly considered trying there, weighing the worth a chance to pick up some valuable medical supplies versus being trapped in narrow corridors with zombies who had died inside the building and been trapped there ever since. I ultimately decided against it. Hospitals were dangerous places.
During the outbreak, when ponies were infected, many of them were taken to hospitals before they turned. Though rationally I knew it was likely that most of the walkers had moved on by now, there was no telling how many were still strapped to tables or gurneys or blocked off in quarantined areas. Plus, hospitals had a lot of hallways and doors. That was a lot of corners to check and you never knew when you would come face to face with a ravenous corpse waving a scalpel. As I had been told, that was not a pleasant experience.
A couple of shopping centers also drew my attention. They were a little farther into the suburbs than I would be comfortable going, but there would be a lot of good scavenging there if we made it. The only problem was it had been years since the dead had overrun the living. Shopping centers like that were prime targets for survivors. Once again we ran the risk of getting all the way to our destination only to find a big ol’ whole heap of nothing waiting for us. I snorted in frustration. This was getting on my nerves. No wonder I had put it off for so long.
Then something on the map caught my eye.
It was a small, innocuous site that would probably be overlooked by anypony without a magnifying glass. I tapped a hoof on the desk and ran my teeth over my lower lip as I weighed my options. That place was pretty far from Mudtrough, true, but it could be very, very worth it. All I had to do was convince Mud Bucket to give me the go ahead. Plans began to form in my head, thoughts tilting into each other like carts colliding and spilling their loads. I couldn't help but smile.
I may have been forced into doing this against my will, but if I had to do it, we were going to do it my way.
================================
"That's pretty far out, Seven.” Mud Bucket intensely studied the location I had circled. "Are you sure about this? There must be something closer. I don't get it."
The two of us sat in Town Hall, discussing the plan I had come up with last night. The morning sun shone brightly through the gaps in wooden shutters over the window. Faint sounds of ponies going about their day could be heard if you strained your ears.
Mud Bucket took a sip from the cup on his desk. "I don't know. Why a school?"
I had chosen a high school in the middle of the suburbs. The map told us it was Hands and Hooves High School, and the mayor was right; it was a lot farther out than any of us had gone before.
I shifted on my haunches. "Well, think about it like this: it's pretty far away from here, but it’s also far from any other likely communities that may be surviving outside the city limits. Yes, it's farther out than we've gone before, but it's also quite far from the center of Fillydelphia, too." I ran a hoof through my mane, hoping I sounded convincing. "That means anypony still holed up in the city itself probably wouldn't have come out that far. There’s a decent chance this school hasn't been totally cleaned out by looters yet."
Mud Bucket grunted in what I hoped was acknowledgement. He chewed on his lip a bit before speaking. "It just seems like such a risk. I mean, surely there is something easier. Why a school?" Mud Bucket repeated his question, clearly not satisfied with my first response. “What could possibly benefit us there?”
I cleared my throat. "A school has all sorts of things we could use. Most schools have a fully stocked cafeteria." Truthfully, there wasn't likely to be anything that hadn't already been taken or just rotted away, but I left that part out. Mud Bucket's expression indicated he still wasn't convinced. I leaned forward to drive home my next point. "Then of course, there’s the infirmary..."
He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"All schools have a medical facility of some sort: a nurse's office, a clinic, you know, something like that. Fillies and colts probably got sick or hurt all the time back in the day. Just simple things like colds and day to day scrapes and bruises, but schools had to be prepared to deal with more serious injuries if they happened too. There would have to be medical equipment and medicine in there."
The mayor started chewing on his lip again.
Sensing weakness, I went in for the kill. "Just think, Mayor Mud Bucket. A whole nurse's office full of stuff we can use. I bet they have basic first aid kits all over the building, too. It's probably all still sitting there for the taking. I don't know about you, but a school isn’t high up on my list of places to loot in an emergency. I'd try a hospital, or clinic, sure, but not a school. Wouldn't you?" I swallowed hard, trying my hardest not to look nervous. This had to work.
"Hrmff..." Mud Bucket tapped a hoof on his desk. He looked to be weighing my proposal. I tried to remain calm and confident on the outside, but inside I was excited about the possibilities the school presented beyond just band-aids and cans of beans. "Fine," he said after what felt like a dragon’s age. "But you're going to be out pretty far if you go there. I want you in and out in a hurry. No sightseeing along the way."
Yeah, because I’m planning to take a camera and make a scrapbook about the trip. Nonetheless, I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was being serious.
"I'll set up the team. You leave first thing tomorrow morning. Take today off to rest, since I'm sure you'd come up with some excuse not to show up for work anyway." He rolled his eyes.
As I got up to leave, he abruptly grabbed one of my forelegs with his hoof. He leveled a hard stare at me. "Listen, kid. It's getting pretty bad out there. There isn't much left." Mud Bucket glanced around the room quickly, almost like he was expecting somepony to be eavesdropping. "We're not in the greatest shape here. The town is running out of a lot of important things. Pretty soon we're going to have to be totally self sufficient. Anything you can get for us will help stave that off." The mayor's glare turned cold. "I'm trusting you, kid. I don't really get it, but you're smart and you seem pretty confident, so I'm going to trust your judgment on this. Don't make me regret it."
Great. No pressure or anything. Thanks.
I thanked the mayor with a facsimile of sincerity and left, headed for home. It was difficult not to let my excitement show. I couldn't believe Mud Bucket had given me approval. I hadn’t been sure I would be able to convince him, but the way his mood shifted when I mentioned medical supplies must mean that those were one of the things the town was getting dangerously low on. I tried to remember the last time I took inventory with Lockright, specifically when we had added medicine or the like to our cache.
In any case, this school trip was a win-win. We could visit the cafeteria, the nurse's office, and any other relevant places for the town, and then we could visit the school library for me. We weren't supposed to go sightseeing, but if we happened to stumble across the library while searching for other things, then it couldn't really be considered a detour, could it? The thought of all those books sitting on the library shelves had me feeling like a giddy schoolcolt as I shut and locked my front door behind me.
Wheels in my head began to turn. Exciting as this was, I would have to be discrete and tactful about this or I could get into a lot of trouble. Obviously, I couldn't bring home an entire library, so I would have to pick and choose. I also couldn't just stuff my saddlebags full of books, either. Some space had to be dedicated to things for the town. I determined there would only be room for a few choice selections.
After some careful deliberation, I decided the best way to figure out what books I wanted was to see where I was missing the most information. I crossed the room, and reached under my bed. After blindly groping around for a bit, I got a hoof on what I was looking for and dragged out a large brown book, which I carried over to my desk.
The book was unassuming. Aside from the brown cover and binding, the only discernible mark on it was a plain square of parchment on the front where I had done my best to draw my cutie mark. While I was no artist, the drawing was hopefully enough to convey to others that this was both my property and a very personal item. In fact, I valued this book more than anything else in my collection.
This was because it contained my summarized record of the entirety of Equestria's history--at least, what I had been able to find. In hindsight, I guess it could be considered more of a journal, but it was the result of all my work, and both reading it and editing in new information were some of my favorite pastimes. I flipped open the front cover of the journal. If I was going to be thorough, the beginning was a very good place to start.
