"You know the real meaning of peace only if you have been through the war."
A bullet bounced off the rusted car hood with a loud ping. The impact made me jump as more automatic fire poured into the cars decrepit engine block. Rust fell off the car in a cloud of little red specks as it dotted my clothes and exposed skin.
“We’ve been looking fer you, boy!” they accented their arrogant speech with quick bursts of automatic fire.
“Get out here and we’ll make it quick!” The bandit yelled at me following it up with an arrogant laugh.
I spared a quick glance over the hood of the car to see what I was up against. Four of them sauntered confidently toward me, as far as I could tell. The wind carried the dust of the desert along the road, limiting my vision to only about forty yards. I kept my eyes squinted to try to keep the dust out of it, but it was a losing battle that I hoped they were a part of as well.
I pulled up my rifle and let a couple shots off in their direction, but two more bullets bounced off the hood no more than five inches from me, forcing me back behind the fender. I cursed my muscles as they tensed in fear. I doubt I hit any of them; the bullets didn't seem to let up at all.
“It ain’t no use, we’re gonna string your corpse up like a pinata!” That yell was much closer than I would have liked now. They couldn’t be more than twenty yards away.
Ignoring the sick mental image of what they did to the local populace, I popped around the front bumper and let off a couple of shots at the closest one. He gave me a satisfying jerk as blood misted behind him and he fell to one knee. Reveling in my small victory, I had forgotten the bandits right next to them. Seeing his buddy fall next to him made him realized I was exposed, and promptly threw a few rounds my way. One of them ripped through my sleeve, leaving a searing line that traced across my forearm. The intense heat of the round and the fresh wound made me jerk back to cover and grimace, even though I knew I had gotten off easy. I swore under my breath a couple of times as I tried to think of a way out and desperately patted and flexed the arm to alleviate the pain.
“Rusty, go ‘round that side.” I heard from less than ten yards away. This was going to get messy.
I turned back and forth to try to see which side was going to reveal a filthy raider first. I could hear footsteps on either side so it was only a matter of which one saw me first. I moved to the back of the car, watching the dust pour through with the wind, waiting for a body to interrupt it. I saw a torn boot step around the fender and I immediately unloaded on the deranged marauder. He didn’t even know what hit him as he continued a sprint towards me, trying to level his gun. Little pats of lead hitting flesh were drowned out by the thunderous gunfire, jerking him around at the impact. His momentum kept him barreling towards me even though his chest was dotted with dozens of leaking red tears.
The next bandit turned the corner and unloaded the magazine on his SMG in my direction as he charged. He thought he had found the perfect opportunity to end me, and laughed menacingly as he approached. Luckily enough, many of the bullets embedded themselves in his old friend, giving me the chance to yank my gun up to his position and give him a few shots for the trouble.
Before the newly perforated raider hit the ground, another one rounded the corner with a rusty knife and a demented smile that showed off where he had ground his teeth into fine points.
I pulled the trigger on my rifle that I still had level with him, but the chamber clicked on nothing but air. Attempting to avoid panic I reached for the m1911 strapped to my leg, but he was faster.
Before I knew it, he jumped on top of my and reared back to sink the knife into me. I jerked my pistol out and fired haphazardly forward, letting a shot off before I even had it level, but it wasn’t enough. The knife cut right through my shoulder and buried itself right below my collarbone. I emptied what was still in the magazine into him in a flurried attempt to stop him from doing it again. A gave a grunt of pain as the weight of the newly deceased raider lay limp across me.
I had thought that was all of them, so I laid back into the sand, eager to just lie there for a nap. A quick glance up told me that wasn’t the case, one last bandit stood with his rifle pointed down at my head, and I caught the slight twitch of his finger before a surge of adrenaline took over my actions.
Ignoring all reason, I jerked forward and yanked the knife out of my shoulder and followed through with the momentum at him. The only problem was I didn’t know how to throw knives, so the handle simply bounced off of his face like an empty can and landed back onto the ground. It was just enough though, the sudden impact made him flinch back and miss the shot, landing it into the rusted out door to the right of us.
I jumped to my feet and grabbed the knife off the ground. With a battlecry to put a Griffon’s roar to shame, and tackled the poor bastard and started stabbing into him with all that had. A sickening schlick accompanied each drive as it met it’s mark in his chest. The life quickly drained out of him and he went limp under me at the barrage of strikes.
Once I was sure he wouldn’t be trying anything else, and I fell forward onto my hands on top of him. In my fit of rage I had to have stabbed him at least 5 times. Blood stained down most of his shirt and neck, and by the taste of iron in my mouth, I had gotten it all over me as well. I gave one look into his cold, hollow eyes before I rolled off of him and sprawled out onto the sand.
My lungs burned for air, as I had given just about all I had trying to survive. With the adrenaline fading off, all of my wounds sprung to life in a cacophony of pain that interrupted just about all thought process. In addition to the scrape and the stab wound, it felt like another bullet found its way across that same shoulder, leaving a deeper graze that spilled blood onto the sand behind me. The recent exertion and new painful wounds caused my muscles to ache with fatigue, and fight against my wishes with weakness.
I shook my head and sat up. Putting a hand over my shoulder and applying pressure gave me a moment to think as it alleviated a bit of the pain.
I really needed to be more careful with these fuckers, I thought bitterly. This was the third time this week.
As much as I wanted to, I knew I didn’t have time to waste on looting the bodies. I needed to get somewhere out of raider territory. I spared a glance at their pockets just to verify. A small black bandana hung out of each one, signifying their membership to the Black Flags. Since I seemed to be the only one in the area who didn’t submit to their rape, mutilation, and cannibalism, they had begun to come after me pretty hard. My bodycount with them had to be up to forty at least.
I shook my head and got up. I had to get out of there, and wasting time thinking about the local raider faction wasn’t getting me anywhere. Another fight like that was going to leave me strung up on some power line, or on the inside of one of their digestive tracts.
I started walking at a pace I knew I could keep up towards what I thought was North. Where I had been going originally before I was so rudely interrupted. The truth was that I didn’t really know where I was going exactly. I attempted to follow the road, but my memory kept fading in and out. I knew there was a settlement in this direction, but I walked for what seemed like days on autopilot not remembering much. Landscapes seemed to swap out like pictures in a slide show.
From dead, to a little less dead, to completely dead. The landscape of Equestria had been to reduced to rocky cliffs and encroaching sand. Even outside of the southern deserts, dead trees and rusted machines littered the landscape. It was my hope to find somewhere sustainable, or at least a good place to die. From the open dunes of the desert to the rough hills, and into the dead forest I trekked. All I wanted to do was get out of the dust.
I had just ran out of provisions, so my journey was one of life or death. My water was surely to run out before the day was done.
I knew my destination had to have been only a two days journey away, but in my current weakened state , all I could think to do was walk. All I tried to focus on was keeping a hand over my bleeding shoulder and trying not to pass out.
I didn’t stop until I was sure my vision betrayed me. The soil under my boots stood stronger against the pressure as I neared what I thought was live appletrees. The loose sand had disappeared in my stupor, and what lied before me was a field of increasingly lively grass. The sun reflected a soft green off the treetops into my eyes, making me do a double take to ensure I hadn’t gone insane. Even though the colorful landscape that seemed to be an active orchard lingered, I still had trouble believing it.
I pushed through my fatigue to come closer to the lively vegetation. Looking into the field had me almost certain I had died and wound up in some afterlife. I looked down to see the grass part gently around my dust-coated boots. I looked back up to try to bask in the life that bloomed all around me, but it seemed my body had other ideas.
With a sudden blur of my vision, my muscles slowly gave out. I fell into the grass and began to fade out from exhaustion. I knew this feeling all too well, but this time it was supplemented by the sweet feeling of grass tracing itself across my figure.
Without a moment more to think about it, I was out like a light.
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I took a good long sip from the icy mug in my hand before setting it back down onto the hard wooden bar. People all around me conversed, filling the bar with life and echoing voices across the room. I just drowned them out and waited for the day to be over so I could hop on the next train.
“What’s a guy like you doing around these parts?” the bartender walked over to me and leaned on the counter. Not a whole lot of customers meant I was fair game to try to alleviate his boredom.
“What do you mean ‘a guy like me’? Can’t a guy have a drink in a Baltimare bar without catching any shit?” I wasn’t exactly in the mood for conversation, but I could tell the he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Well, you don’t exactly look the part. With that hat and that outfit, you look like you just came off a ranch, and we don’t have too many of those in the city.” I unconsciously shifted my weight on the stool. My cowboy hat and boots definitely weren’t the common wardrobe around here.
“I had to deliver something. I’m from Dodge.” I still didn’t bother trying to make eye contact with the bartender. I just stared into my drink as I swirled it around lightly.
“That explains it. So... what exactly were you delivering?” The guy asked before looking around the bar for any needy customers. Seeing nothing, he redirected his attention back to me.
“A custom, engraved, .308, bolt action rifle. Complete with high magnification scope and one hundred magnum rounds,” I recited blandly, remembering the order I had seen when I first started making the thing.
“That’s quite the delivery,” he said with an impressed shrug.
“A guy’s got to make a living somehow.” I took another long sip from my drink. It certainly isn’t what I wanted to be doing. I wanted to be a rough, intimidating, military ranger. Imposing the kingdom’s will with an iron fist and high powered rifle. But the current Equestrian lack of political conflict dictated I get stuck in the reserves as the royal princesses enjoyed a longstanding era of peace.
While I didn’t have anything against peace or tranquility, the lack of adventure in my life and my menial gunsmithing job left me feeling a insatiable need for adventure, or at least for something interesting to happen. But life went on.
“So how’s Dodge holding up with all that Griffon movement on the border?” I gave him a raised eyebrow at that.
“The what?”
“You haven’t heard? The Griffons are all up in arms over some resource allocation. They’ve been threatening Equestria for months, and they haven’t shown up to any political negotiations.” I was a bit surprised. This was more than I’d heard of. If we were on the brink of war, I definitely would have heard about it. But then again, the Griffons threaten a nation every couple of months.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Part of me believed it, and the other part wished it was something that would just blow on by. I had family there.
“So, what’s your name stranger?”
“You city folks sure do ask a lot of questions,” I replied, downing the rest of my beer.
“Just trying to make smalltalk, buddy.” Finally seeing that talking to me wasn’t going to be getting anywhere, the bartender turned on the television with a swift click of a remote he picked up from the bar.
The tv shone to life, illuminating the dim bar and demanding attention from all the occupants. The bartender turned it on just in time for the evening news.
A very stern looking woman looked directly into the camera with a headline behind her that read “Act of War!” and had a helicopter view of a burning town out in the desert.
She began to speak in a very stressed tone of voice, addressing the matter very seriously.
The nation is frozen in shock today, as images of the destroyed desert settlement, Dodge Junction, spread through Equestria like wildfire.
At the sound of my hometown I froze in place and gave my full attention to the television, eyes going wide in shock.
The small desert settlement was attacked today after Griffon forces crossed the border with an entire battalion to take the city. Any attempt at contacting the Emperor has failed to go through, leaving the Princesses to fear the worst. This has been considered an act of war, and the Princesses have declared a state of conflict and ask that all military, reserve or otherwise report to the nearest base of operations for further instruction.
No survivors have been found in or around the attacked city, leading officials to believe the inhabitants are either prisoners of war, or have been killed. Nothing has been confirmed on the intentions of the hostile army, but reports confirm that they are heading North towards Appaloosa. Citizens are recco-
I didn’t bother to hear the rest of the story out. I didn’t have time to grieve for all of my friends and family. The bartender tried to share words of condolence with me, but before he could open his mouth, I slipped off the stool. All eyes in the bar were on me as the glass I had been holding had slipped out of my hand and shattered on the ground. I ignored the sound of shattering glass and the whispering of the patrons as I kicked open the door and ran out into the street.
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I slowly faded into consciousness as I could feel myself being turned over. My senses didn’t follow suit however, as I was still very much immobile. My vision blurred into being and I could almost make out a face looking down on me.
“What in tarnation...” A female voice said softly. My vision focused and I could see the figure of a girl in a cowboy hat kneeling over me.
I had a hard time believing what was in front of me. I almost never found women roaming around in the waste, and if I did, they were either too filthy to be recognizable, or were selling themselves at the local saloon. Even the prostitutes were a long way from perfect hygiene. This girl didn’t seem to have that problem. Her face didn’t show any traces of dirt, and her long blonde hair was tied up neatly with a band at the end. She was actually... clean. As if I even knew the meaning of the word anymore.
I tried to speak, but my muscles seemed to be working against me. I felt lightheaded and could feel myself drifting off again. I was surprised the cold grasp of death hadn’t claimed me from blood loss, as I could still feel the damp spot on my right shoulder.
The girl moved her head to look at the grass where I was originally. She put a hand down but jerked it back, as if in fear. She then put the same hand to my shoulder and pulled it back with two fingers coated in my blood.
I could feel myself going under again, the girl brought a hand up to her face and yelled out into the field just before I could.
“Mac! Get over here!” was all I heard before my world became dark.
I woke up again, being dragged across the grass gently. I left a thin red trail behind me that streaked the grass for as far as I could tell. It wasn’t long before I lost consciousness again.
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Voices seemed to be distant, but clear enough to hear. I was acutely aware of the dream I was in, but I couldn’t bring myself to call it that. Images flashed before my eyes and explosions and gunfire filled my ears.
A tank crashed through a street divider with a thunderous boom, followed by the sound of shattered concrete flying across the highway. I jumped forward in terror and shouted something incomprehensible.
A battalion of Griffons flooded into a trench with cries that could wake the dead. Many of them fell with a sickening thud, being filled with volley of metal. Others pulled out knives and went to work perforating the men around me. I looked up to see one lunge forward at me with a knife in hand.
A shot rang out and echoed across the desert. A Griffon in front of me had his head blown into three different pieces as he dropped into a useless pile in front of me. I raised my rifle and fired into the thin wooden buildings that I thought they might be hiding behind. I turned to my right and saw a group of six of them charging my direction. I pulled out a grenade and felt for it’s weight before I yanked the pin out with my teeth and sent it in an arc in their direction.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“We were supposed to be fighting for them! Not killing them!”
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My eyes opened slowly, and for a moment I had no idea where I was. I tried to jerk forward to get ready for a fight, since that was what this kind of situation usually entailed, but all that came to me was a spasm of pain in my arm, sending my back down into the couch I was laying on.
I looked into the room to see a rather normal set up of furniture and a dining room across from the front door. Normal in the sense that this is what things looked like before the war. The boards were tarnished and well-looked after. The fabric on the furniture was pristine and intact. Even the windows were still in one piece. Something wasn’t right.
A blatant knock of footsteps echoed from down the hallway. Out of instinct I reached for my holster, but it wasn’t there. Patting around myself frantically for any of my weapons produced nothing. All that I had on me were my pants, a blanket, and a red-stained bandage covering my shoulder.
My fears were put to rest as the girl I barely recognized from the field stepped around the corner with a roll of bandages. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this situation. The entire ordeal was strange to me.
“Well look who’s finally awake,” The girl said as she sat down beside me on the couch.
“Am I dead?”
“What? No, partner. Though you almost were when we found you in a heap in the south field.” She talked as she started taking off the old bandage from my arm for me. Usually this was something I’d have to do myself, but I wasn’t complaining.
“I’m Applejack by the way,” she said, still looking down at my wound.
“Nice to meet ya.”
“What about you?” she asked, making eye contact this time.
“What about me?”
“What’s your name, sugarcube?” she asked with a reassuring smirk.
“I don’t remember.” I broke the gaze and stared at the wall. I did remember, I just didn’t want to tell her.
“Well, then what am I supposed to call you?”
I thought for a moment about that. What was the word that described me best?
“Soldier, Soldier is fine.”
“Alright, Soldier.”
A couple seconds of silence passed as she cleared away some of the dried blood and residue off of my shoulder.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked her, genuinely wondering why she didn’t leave me to die. It wasn’t exactly a gracious world anymore.
“Do what, partner?”
“Save me. I could be a threat to you.” It was a real possibility, it made me wonder how many bandits she gave this same treatment to, and how she hadn’t been killed for it yet.
“I’d like to think people are better than that.” I silently disagreed. “Besides, this means now you owe me.” She smiled and gave me a wink. Of course it did, but owing her something didn’t seem like that bad of a prospect at the moment, considering what she did for me.
“So how did you get a wound like that anyway?” She looked down to my exposed shoulder at the wound. She was at least a little experienced with this sort of thing, since she seemed to have cleaned and sewn it up quite nicely. It was a lot cleaner than I could have done it.
“Just another day in the dust.” I replied as she wrapped it back up. Even though she had gloves on her hands, her touch was enough to enact carnal desires that I held down for civility’s sake. It wasn’t every day that you come across a girl that actually kept up with herself.
“The what now?” she said with a questioning look. I raised an eyebrow at her.
Then I remembered. The grass, the trees that didn’t have their bark stripped from constant dust-storms, the fresh air. I wasn’t in the dust anymore.
“Where am I?” She looked over at me like it was obvious.
“Why, you’re in Ponyville, Soldier.”
