Life used to be normal.
Used to.
I used to have a wife and foal. I used to have a job. I used to get home from work and complain to my family about what a prick my boss was today.
Used to.
I used to change my foal’s diaper. I used to feed him, and burp him, and hold him.
Used to.
I used to care about other people. I used to have feelings.
Used to.
Now, I’m sitting here. I can hear their moans, their cries. I might be the last person alive in this hell called Equestria, and you know what?
It doesn’t matter.
No matter what I do, no matter what I did, Fate had other plans.
Fate can be a real bitch, can’t it?
Don’t answer that.
Fuck! Why am I even writing this journal? Is anyone gonna be left to read it?
I don’t know. I don’t know.
Well, pal, if you’re a new kid on the block, maybe I should explain to you what’s happened.
Equestria died. It shriveled up and died. Gave up. See ya later, fuckers! I’m gonna go rot now. The Elements ran off...somewhere. Nopony knows where they are. If I actually live to make it out of this room, I'll look for them. It has to be done.
The catalyst of this destruction was an aggressive bacterial infection. Everyone called it the Plague, though. Nopony really cared about what kind of infection it was when the first biters were ripping flesh off and stuffing it in their mouths. Rumors said it started in Manehattan.
It didn't matter.
At first, gunsmiths made a fortune making weapons for scared people. Defend yourself and your family!, the smiths said, it’s the right thing to do! The power of advertisement, huh?
None of their money mattered when people realized that golden coins were fucking useless nowadays.
The currency became supplies. Food, water, weapons, munitions, medical supplies...anything to help you survive.
Pretty soon after that, other ponies became threats.
When things started going to shit, ponies would team up and fight. Lots of small groups started popping up all over the place. Soon after, some of these groups decided that they should try and make life as comfortable for themselves as possible.
That's when the raids started.
I once saw a small settlement that had been completely burned to the ground. There were heads without bodies on pikes, and bodies without heads that had become all-you-can-eat buffets for the biters.
It didn't matter if you were strong. It didn't matter if you were tough. It didn't matter if you were fast. It didn't matter if you were quiet. It didn't matter if you were brave.
Nothing mattered.
I did terrible things in this life. I killed people. I let people die. I did what I needed to do. Looking back, I know I made some bad choices. But I really don’t care. I never really did.
You know, my cutie mark was of a fire. I always thought it meant I was good at making people feel things, that I could light a metaphorical fire.
But you know what it really means?
It means that I can survive.
I know how to survive. I can do what needs to be done to survive.
When I was younger, my mother always used to tell me that everyone had a line. One that they wouldn’t cross, no matter what the situation was. She said her line was murder.
I still haven’t found my line yet.
What’s your line? What are you willing to do to stay alive? To keep the ones you love alive? To ensure that their next breath isn’t their last?
What will you do when the Commons and the Pullers and the Acids and the Leapers and the Hunters and the Squids come to your door?
What will you do?
Will you sacrifice someone else? Will you tell everyone to escape while you hold them off and die in a blaze of heroic glory? Will you try to sneak out? Maybe you’ll burn the house down. Maybe you’ll come up with a cunning escape plan that involves sneaking out of the back while the monsters’ attentions are focused on the noisemaker you rigged.
Maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ll give up. You’ll let them tear you apart, you’ll let them rip apart your entrails. Maybe you’ll put a gun to your head and pull the trigger, thinking about how much you love your family and friends and the world and the rainbows and birds and bunnies and murderous biters around every corner and the psychopaths that have managed to stay alive.
What will you do?
There’s no way of knowing what you’ll do until it happens. I never thought I could kill somepony, and now here I am, the blood of over ten of them on my hooves. And those are just the ones I knew the names of!
You must think I’m a coward, a thief, a liar, a cheat. Well, fuck you! I did what needed to be done. I made tough calls when no one else would.
I did it all.
My name is Walker. This is the story of the roller coaster of life and its unexpected turns.
Enjoy life while it lasts, buddy. It might be the very last thing you do.
I guess I should start at the very beginning. Of the end, I mean. When the first Commons started showing up.
It was about five months ago. I was sitting at home with my wife and son. My wife’s name was Cloudy Skies. She was beautiful. The most beautiful pegasus mare in the world.
My son’s name was Greycloud. I was proud of him. He was getting pretty good at flying.
Anyways, it was a night about five months ago. I had tucked my son in to bed. He was still a foal, but he had started school a few weeks before the outbreak. My wife was out late, working.
“Daddy?” my son called.
“Yeah, kiddo?” I answered back, wandering into his room. “What’s up?”
“Do you hear the noise?”
“What noise?”
“The screaming.”
My blood ran cold. “What screaming? What are you talking about?”
“The screaming from outside.”
I ran over to his window, almost pulling the curtains off in a panicked frenzy. Down in the street below, I saw a mare, no more than my age, fall over, covered in blood. She tried to get back up, but stumbled.
Then, a stallion shambled out from behind a building. He was covered, head to toe, in blood. I could see that part of his jaw was missing.
He made his way to the mare, bent down, and bit into her neck.
Her scream pierced my ears, like the stallion’s teeth pierced her neck. Blood spurted out of the new holes in her neck, and she collapsed. She had passed out from too much blood loss. That much I knew. What I didn’t know (at the time, anyways) was that her corpse would be reanimated a half hour later, and she would go on to turn five more ponies into Commons.
But, it didn’t really matter at the time.
Nothing matters.
I picked up my foal and ran.
It was then when I finally realized who the mare was.
My wife.
My wife, who had married me two years after we had started dating after graduating high school.
My wife, who had stayed married to mo for five years.
My wife, who was dead.
Nothing matters.
I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I ran down the street, where ponies were running around, screaming their heads off. Where some ponies were looting. Some were burning homes to the ground in the hopes of killing any possible Commons inside.
But it didn’t matter.
My hometown of Fillydelphia had been burned to the ground.
Nothing matters.
My hoof hurts from all this writing. Besides, the wood planks are starting to creak more. I had better replace them.
Hopefully, these words aren’t my last.
There. Back. I was able to replace the planks quickly. I had to kill a Hunter when it got too close, but I’m safe.
Anyways, I had found my way out of the city. There’s not much to tell in that respect, because we never encountered another soul on our way out.
I came across a small camp on the outskirts of the town, complete with a tent and fireplace. Someone had gotten there before me.
A pony with a gun walked out of the tent. “Take another step and you’re dead, pal.”
“Hey, listen, I have a foal.” My son was hiding behind me.
“Is he bit?” He raised the gun.
“No.”
“How about you? You bit?”
“No.”
He looked at me, still holding the gun up. Then, he sighed and put the gun down. “Come on in.”
We made our way into his tent. There was an uncurled sleeping bag on the floor, along with a lantern and a few extra magazines of ammunition.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
“My name’s Magnesium.”
“I’m Walker, and this is my son, Greycloud.” Grey hid behind me again.
“Good to meet you two.” He smiled.
After a few hours of small talk and general discussion about the situation at hand, I asked the big question.
“Magnesium, what’s going on out there?”
He sighed. “Well, Walker, your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea of what’s going on out there.”
“None at all?”
“Nope. I’m a chemistry teacher, not a biologist. But, from what I’ve seen, it looks to be some sort of...aggressive infection. Can’t say what kind, though.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Well, like I said, it’s probably some sort of infection. And whatever it does, it makes dead ponies live ponies.”
“Do you...think there’s a cure?”
“Maybe. The unlucky ones, the ones with half of their faces missing, probably can’t be saved. But maybe, if the body is in good condition, they could be saved.”
“How...how do you figure that?”
“Well, I’m a chemistry teacher, but I have a few medicinal science degrees under my belt.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“So, we have no idea of what’s going on. The way it looks, we could be the last people on Earth. I have my son, and my wife-”
And then I remembered.
My wife was dead.
I broke down. I buried my face in my hooves, my sobs rocking my body. Magnesium came over to me.
“I lost my family.”
“And what, you don’t feel bad about it?”
“I do. I mourned.” He sat down. “But, I came to terms with it. They’re in a better place now.”
A better place.
I bet the afterlife is much better than this hellhole, where nothing matters.
Anything is better than this.
Anything.