Chapter 1 The Mountainside (Michael)

Michael’s curly auburn mane flopped in front of his face. The light wind pushed it out of his eyes. His brown eyes scanned the landscape. It was depressing.

He stood on a rock overlooking a once beautiful land. Fields of wheat were scattered across along with small farm houses and barns. Two very small, dull colored and cracked roads were constructed throughout the grouping of farms. Michael shook his head and turned away from the ugly sight. His right eye caught something.

“Damn.” Michael breathed. His right lens of his glasses was broken. “When did that happen?” He wondered. There were so many times he could have broken the fragile glass, he lost count. He trotted off the rock, the slow clops echoing in the valley. Michael could picture a scolding from Ryan for not being more cautious. Michael rolled his eyes at his imaginary friend.

As Michael traveled along the mountain side he came across a river. The water was most likely tainted and not worth the trouble, but Michael trotted over to it anyway.

His mind was right, it was tainted, but Michael could get a look at himself. Boy had he changed. His hair was longer and tougher to deal with; faint facial hair was making its way onto his once smooth face. His eyes were still brown but had seen many gruesome things over the past few…how long ago was it? Six-no, seven months? That sounded about right. His orange coat was matted with blood and sweat in certain places. His wings were bigger and he hadn’t preened them in a long time. When you lived in an apocalyptic world not many people cared about appearance. He was taller and more mature, too.

The orange Pegasus opened his blood covered wings. He stuck out his tongue in disgust. Michael dropped a hoof in the bronze colored water and cleaned out his wings. Maroon colored water ended up as the result. He straightened out his feathers and gently flapped his wings. When was the last time he used them? It seemed like forever.

Michael took flight but almost immediately fell back down. The wind factor plus the fact he hadn’t flown in ages, he barely stayed in flight. He shook his head and slowly touched back down. He folded his wings back in. “Forget it.” He said with a sigh. Michael turned around and walked away from the river.

“Nnnrgghh…” a loud groaning sounding to the far right of Michael. His head whipped to that side, an intimidating growl emitting from his throat. A pale gray mare was limping over to him. Her back left leg looked broken, bent at an angle it definitely shouldn’t have been. Bits of flesh were ripped from her coat, revealing the bright white color of bone. A knife was impaled into her right eye. Blood dripped from the still flesh wound. Michael assumed somepony had wounded her and used that as their escape. That or they thought they could get away…

“You here to make my life more difficult?” He asked her. He didn’t expect an answer. “Like it isn’t hard enough.” Michael scoffed. He reached into his saddle back and grabbed a knife. Even after he had finally grabbed the small lethal object, the mindless pony was still a good four feet away.

The grass underneath her hooves bent back as her hoof made contact with it. She was blind in one eye, severely wounded in her leg, and several bite marks lined her neck, yet she still persisted, not giving up. Michael waited for her to approach him, not wanted to rush in and accidently get bitten. He was sure he wouldn’t have been if he did go out with his plan but one thing Michael learned throughout his new life was that you never went in without caution. You always doubted yourself before making a dumb move.

The gray mare opened her mouth and Michael swore her bottom jaw would fall off right away at any contact. Her teeth were gross and rotting. “It is definitely cringe-worthy.” Michael smiled, the handle of the knife still clenched within his teeth, remembered what Ray would have said. What he would have said back when life was simple. What he would have said back when they hadn’t had to survive on their own, trying to get away from zombies.

When she leapt towards his neck, Michael slammed his hooves on her shoulders, pushing her down. The pony tried to get back up but was stopped when Michael slammed the blade into the neck of the zombie. The red liquid gushed out from the puncture wound. She squealed but the squealing soon became gurgling as blood and saliva filled her throat. Under any other circumstance, Michael would have considered murder despicable and wrong and so many other things. But this creature in front of him wasn’t a person. It didn’t have a mind or soul or will, it just killed.

Michael grabbed the end of the knife and yanked, pulling it free of the skin. The gurgling and squealing ended and her body stopped squirming. It fell limp. Michael slid the bloodied knife back into his saddle bag and backed away from the body. Before walking away, Michael opened his mouth and spit at her and walked off.

………

The Pegasus stoked the small campfire, causing orange sparks to shoot out. He lay down on the ground, admiring the flame. The orange and red swirled together, putting on a show for him. The sparks popped and sizzled, reminding Michael of some type of weird music. His face and chest were heating up and Michael had to blink to regain focus. He backed farther away from the fire. He had gotten enough heat for now.

Michael looked around him. Trees were dotted everywhere. They were dense in population and when they grouped together they looked like a wall. The forest was dead silent until a crow cawed in a tree above him. Michael’s head flew up to where the crow was at. The black bird stared back at him. After a good minute stare, the black bird flapped its wings and flew away. “I’m all alone,” Michael huffed. “Once again.” This brought back painful memories.

[Flashback]

BANG! BANG! The door shook with each violent blow. “We have to get out of here!” Jack yelled.
“How?! Where do we go?” Michael yelled back.
Jack spun around, eyeing down the store. He stared at a door furthest from them. Jack raised a hoof at the door.
“There!” the unicorn said.
“Doesn’t that lead to the pharmacy? We’ll be trapped in there!” Michael said.
“What are we now, Michael?!” Jack snapped. He did have a point. It’d be better to just go out that way, they had a better chance.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Michael trotted behind Jack as they headed for the door. BANG! BASH! BANG! Wood was already being torn from the entrance. One hole was big enough for a head to fit through. Jack bucked the door opened and peeked inside. Michael followed closely. “Well now what?” Michael asked, looking around. “I think these are stairs!” Jack cheered, peering through a door. The glass was shattered and some pieces were lying on the floor. “Come on, I think I can get this open.” Jack said. Loud groans were coming from the other room. “Jack there’s not enough time!”

[End of Flashback]

Michael flinched at the painful memory. “Forget, Michael. Just forget.” He encouraged himself. “But I can’t!” He snapped back at himself. The Pegasus shook his head. “Don’t let it get to you, Michael. Don’t want to become a Crazie.” He said.

Michael rolled on his side and used his free wing as a blanket. “Maybe someday I can afford a nice quilt from Baltimare. Some prismatic … color … some type … of comfy-,” Michael, against his will, blacked out.

………

Michael jumped up. “Shit! Damn it! I fell asleep!” Michael hissed at himself. He glanced around him. No zombies, no people, no Crazies, no nothing. The fire had gone out, too, and was just ash. Michael guessed it was probably seven in the morning as a light fog was floating just above the ground.

The orange Pegasus raised a hoof to his neck. No bite mark, which was good. But there was blood. “What the hell?!” He breathed. “The fuck caused this?”

Michael walked over to a puddle and looked at himself. A red mark was across his neck and was still fresh. Michael leaned in to get a better look. A large “4” was printed on his neck. “W-what?” Michael stammered. “Four? What does that mean?”

The number appeared to be printed with some type of machine. Michael ran his hoof over the wound, this time with pressure. “Yowch!” He howled. Michael used his other front hoof to gather waterand lightly brushed the wet hoof over his scab. “FUCK!” Michael hissed.

The pain was searing, like someone was pouring gallons of peroxide onto it. “Gah! I’m done!” Michael stopped trying to heal himself. “I don’t know what caused this but I sure as hell am going to find out!”

Author's Note

I was just anxious and really wanted to post this. I know there are probably a couple of grammar mistakes or things I should have re-written but my editer hadn't responded yet and I got (like I said) anxious. Thanks! See ya next chapter hopefully!