Fallout Equestria: Longtalons

Chapter 28

Exodus

Following Serge's advice, we didn't wait very long before we made our escape from Fillydelphia.

Not until sunrise, anyway. We waited for a while for any sign of Serge, Carmelita or Leigh to return, but no sign came. We were both thoroughly exhausted so even if we wanted to leave immediately, another hour or three to catch our breath was all but necessary. But after that wait, when we had no indication that they were ever coming back, we made the difficult decision to get up and leave while we still could.

Injured as I still was, flying was out of the question, so we had to slip out of the school yard on foot. No one tried to stop us, but I felt the stares of the foreign griffons with every step we took. Maybe they thought a couple of banged up ex-Talons weren't worth trying to press into their service.

I didn't want to find out.

Our options for leaving the city were, however, complicated. On foot, we really only had the option of walking out the front gate, which we had reason to believe was now open. The escaping slaves earlier implied that there was another breach in the wall somewhere that we might try to exploit, but I frankly didn't feel like looking for such a precarious opening when Gawd's Talons could stop us there just as easily and there was an elevated risk of falling into the moat if something collapsed.

On top of that, we had no supplies for traveling. On foot, Oatsfield would take days to reach. Maybe a week or more since there was a lot of uneven terrain in the way that we could normally have just flown over. Without food or clean water, that was a non-starter. Water wasn't so hard. The school used to be a Talon barracks and was one of the few places in the city with running water. Food was more complicated.

So, we made the decision to scavenge what we could from the city before making a hasty exit. Given the damage and disarray, we guessed there would have to be a lot that was no longer being accounted for, but every survivor had to have had the same idea.

And yet… the streets were almost abandoned. There were once thousands of people in the city, and while the outer and less important streets of the city might be abandoned like this, here near the school house and former Talon base, there was always foot traffic. Slaves pulling carts of supplies if nothing else, but slavers and soldiers were a common sight too.

But now, there was nothing but a few sheets of burnt paper fluttering down the dark street ahead. The moonlight shining down helped illuminate the asphalt path, but even so, the lack of functioning street lights left it dark and gloomy. We saw a single pony dressed in rags picking over the fallen remains of an Enclave soldier who'd crashed into the crumbling remains of a fountain in front of what was once a bank, but whoever they were, they bolted for the cover of darkness down another street the moment they spotted us in turn.

I considered checking the downed pegasus, but knew they were dead, and there wouldn't be anything left for us to take that we could use.

My first priority was to head to the clinic to try to locate something that would heal the holes in my wings, since flying to Oatsfield would be so much faster and safer than walking there. I wasn't really expecting to find anything there though. Zella told me that most of the Talon medical elements, not including me apparently, had pulled together with the other medical staff in Fillydelphia at the Hearts and Hooves hospital, and I expected that they'd taken most supplies of value with them. And it had been leveled by a plasma cannon, so we weren't headed there. If we didn't find anything at the clinic, we'd just have to move on.

And sure enough, it was a waste of time.

The building was mostly intact, having only suffered some light fire damage that seared the paint on one side of the building and curled up what was left of the plastic covering on the utility box, but the supply room had been raided. Either by the medics, desperate slaves or escaping Talons like us, it didn't matter. No healing potions to be found.

And I really needed to stop referring to myself as a Talon. We weren't anymore.

The next stop was to check first platoon's mess hall for traveling supplies. A quick glance at it from down the street told me there was little hope, since it too had suffered significant fire damage. The former wooden diner had fallen in on itself, with blackened planks and sheet rock splintered and creaking in the warm wind. We spent a while trying to pull away the debris, but the creaks only got worse so we gave up before one of us was killed in the dumbest way possible after surviving the Enclave attack.

We picked our way past more chunks of twisted steel from the obliterated barracks and passed the equally burnt and ruined train station that Heidi once used as he office. I briefly wondered if Egon's remains were still inside, but I knew better. Egon might have been the only person in this forsaken city she cared about. Or maybe she burned the office to cremate him?

I blew out a sigh and crossed the train tracks as we finished our trek toward the armory. I didn't want to think about it. Not him, not her, just… none of it.

To my surprise, the armory still hadn't been flattened. How the Enclave never figured out its purpose was beyond me, but I took the small blessing in stride and crossed the vacant grounds to reach the small rectangular building.

To nobody's surprise, the inside had been ransacked. I spied a few bullets that had rolled into a corner that nobody bothered to grab, but bare racks, upturned boxes and fragments of broken down rifles were all that was left. Another bust. On a whim, I kicked over one of the upturned boxes, and against all odds a few foil wrapped packets flipped out.

MREs. Seven in total. Not enough to keep us fed on the trip to Oatsfield, but it was a lot better than nothing. Whoever looted the place must not have recognized them for what they were, or figured the guns were more important. You can't eat bullets, so I ignored their short sightedness and snapped the packs up without even checking the flavor. They weren't going to taste great regardless, and it really didn't matter.

All that mattered now was getting to the gate, and getting out of this hell hole for the last time.

My situation hadn't changed, which meant we still had to take the main gateway. My stomach twisted in knots at the thought of how we'd never make it out of the city without our new mercenary watchers spotting and apprehending us, but I just couldn't see any other way. It hurt too much to even spread my wings enough to glide from one of the walls over the moat. We just had to hope they were too busy watching for actual trouble than to try to stop us…

The air was muggy and still when we reached the gate. A handful of pony soldiers still sat on the walls, but they appeared to have given up on all pretenses of keeping the order in Fillydelphia. Ahead of us, a group of maybe ten former slaves of a variety of sizes and colors broke from behind an overturned caged wagon and made a mad dash for the open gate and bridge beyond. None of the soldiers even bothered to glance their way, much less point a gun or attempt to stop them. None of the new Talons were immediately visible either. Our path was clear.

I took the first step from cover and watched to make sure Amy was right behind me. I wanted to break into a run too, but I was too damned tired. All I could manage was an exhausted plod, all while the feeling that a dozen eyes were fixed on me and waiting to pass judgment.

Nothing happened.

We reached the rickety wooden planks that formed the drawbridge across the moat, which didn't even creak under our weight. Only the mild thump of our heavy steps broke the silence. No wind in the distance, no distant cries or screams. No gunfire… not even the usual din of the factories and forges running.

By the time we reached the bare ground past the moat, I'd convinced myself that this wasn't real. Some purgatory, where everything was dead and silent, and where we'd find nothing beyond those terrible makeshift walls. Had I actually died when that pony shot me, and I didn't realize it? Was this some personal hell? What was-

Amy ignored my stupor and continued past me into the silent wasteland. She paused, and looked back. “Coming?”

I nodded and pressed on. I'd rather face this hell than the one I was leaving.

The trip outside of Fillydelphia started out equally unremarkable.

First, we didn't have to travel very far before the cloud cover resumed overhead. Without the pegasi actively restoring it, the giant hole formed by the balefire explosion was only very slowly closing on its own, but as large as the gap above looked, even a few kilometers was enough distance to travel in the dry and windswept landscape to return to the dark shadows cast from above. I didn't realize how much I missed even part of a single day in the gentle moonlight until it was gone.

There was also little sign of others who escaped the city ahead of us. No doubt those who could flee had done so at the earliest opportunity, instead of waiting around like we did, and the wasteland was huge. We followed the hoofprints of escaped slaves for a while, more out of coincidence on the direction we were headed than anything, but even the gaggle of ponies that rushed out of the gate ahead of us were nowhere to be seen.

Raiders didn't ever come close to Fillydelphia. The Steel Rangers might blunder into us if we got unlucky, but nobody else was crazy enough to get this close, so we were safe for a while. As long as the Enclave didn't come back for revenge, we probably didn't have much to worry about for a while.

After that… we'd figure out. We had enough water for 3 days, and the food would last as long as it did.

Even if it took a week to make it to Oatsfield, we'd make it.

We'd figure it out.

In hindsight, that was a mistake.

First of all, exhausted as we were, we didn't make it very far on the first day. Factor in how incredibly heavy that much water was, and it was a recipe for getting almost nowhere. We made it as far as a blasted and burnt out housing division maybe five kilometers outside of the city before the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the clouds overhead and we had to give up for the day.

We located the first halfway intact house to crawl into and drop our sorry carcasses in a corner to rest for a while. Neither of us had really slept in effectively days now, and even I was starting to feel the haze of sleepiness fighting past any insomnia and crawling into the periphery of every thought, but I offered to take the first watch so Amy could get some sleep.

I nodded off not long after she did, but thankfully neither she woke up nor did a rampant zombie stumble across our little hiding spot while we got the desperate rest we needed.

Luckily, I did wake up before Amy, and forced myself to do a bit of scrounging in the ruins to keep myself awake, but to no avail. The place had been picked clean a century ago, and in the end, we lost most of that day just recovering.

The next and first real setback came that night as we set out again on our severely delayed and now anxious journey to Oatsfield, while crossing one of the massive wooden bridges that dotted the countrysides of Equestria.

I guess when the war broke out and the princesses decided to build up the infrastructure of the country to improve productivity and redeployment times, they didn't have time and resources to tear them all down and replace them with more modern concrete or steel bridges. So, they just poured asphalt on the roads leading to them, reinforced what they could, and hoped for the best. Really, it was a testament to what the ponies were able to do considering that the bridges had been built before the height of ingenuity and desperation, and that they were still standing at all, two centuries later without any maintenance.

The thought that the bridges were so worn out never even really crossed my mind. I'd seen them dozens, maybe hundreds of times in my life. They were ageless, there long before me and they'd be there long after.

I didn't even pay the creaks and groans any attention as we pressed on. Old wooden constructions would do that in the open wind. The riverbed it crossed had long dried up, so the wind could get up to pretty impressive speeds. The flexing and torsion would make even steel creak.

I paid attention when the ground vanished beneath me.

One of the old rotten boards, as thick as my torso, snapped under my weight and plummeted into the depths below. I fell and landed hard, both forelegs falling through the new gap.

A cacophony of creaks, cracks and pops sounded around me. Amy screamed my name, and I reached up to claw my way back to the top, but it was too late. Wind caught my feathers and sawdust caught my nostrils as free fall set in.

I learned a few things in that moment.

First, reflexes ignored pain.

Second, I could spread my wings.

Third, I could glide with my wings open.

Fourth, it did still hurt like an absolute son of a bitch.

Fifth, once reflexes were gone, it was hard to override searing, clawing pain that shot through my wings.

I made it about two thirds of the way down before I involuntarily snapped my wings shut to end the burning agony. Free fall set in again and I tried to spread them, but I only arrested the fall a hair with my feeble flailings.

Reflexes didn't really help as I plowed into the ground, claws first. My elbows went numb and I tumbled along the muddy, smelly, pony-goddess forsaken riverbed for a few meters before coming to a stop near the bleached skeletal remains of a two-headed fish.

It was all I could do to flip over and curse the throbbing pain shooting through my joints so I could get a look at whatever the fuck had just happened.

The bridge was still there… but… had I just fallen through the bottom? Where was Amy?

“Kaz!”

There she was.

The blurry tan coated griffoness darted down from the air and landed in the muck next to me. Her wide red eyes scanned me repeatedly. “Shit, shit, shit. How bad are you hurt? Can you get up?”

“I don't think anything is broken...”

With her help, I managed to force myself to my feet. Everything hurt, but for once I didn't lie and understate my injuries. I might have hairline fractures in my radius or ulna bones, but the ground was soft enough it didn't pulverize anything.

Clunk.

I looked down at the flattened jug now sitting in the mud. What was left of the water inside was now freely pouring out into the toxic runoff of the riverbed.

Great.

Amy swore again, and stamped a claw in the mud.

I was too tired and in too much pain to be embarrassed. I just blew out a sigh and muttered an apology. We had to keep going. The riverbed got pretty shallow not far down the way. We just had to make it that far and I could climb back out. Then we'd be on our way again. It was a setback, but I knew there was more water between here and home. We'd have to share a jug, but we'd make it.

Not happening.

I made the mistake of sitting still too long, and by the time we started down the muddy path, my joints had swollen enough that walking was unbearable. We made it back to the rickety bridge before I had to collapse in its shade and wait for the pain to ease off. I didn't mention to Amy that that was not going to be any time soon.

We sat there in that spot for maybe ten minutes, neither saying anything. Somehow, it was beyond belief. We'd survived years in Fillydelphia's Talon Company, literally going up against raiders, zombies and Steel Rangers, and this was going to be what finally got me. I fell through a bridge like an idiot, and now that I'd hurt myself and wasted what was left of my supplies, I'd never make it to Oatsfield. At best I could hope that the pain eased off enough that I could climb back out and crawl my way back to Fillydelphia, but dying of thirst out here might have been preferable.

“I'm sorry, Amy.”

“You didn't do it on purpose,” she muttered back, eying the skies for any potential trouble.

“For all of this, I mean. We're not going to make it like this. I'm not. You should go on ahead. I'll find a way out of here. Maybe make it back to Fillydelphia. Zella's probably still there. I can-”

Amy thrust a palm into my face. “Shut up. Enough. Don't say it. I'm not going without you, and I'm not going back to Fillydelphia.”

“But I can't travel like this.”

“Kaz?”

“What?”

“Be quiet.” She turned to face me fully. “You've spent five years helping everyone you could and never asking for anything in return. Five years that I know of. Probably your whole life.” She slapped her breastplate. “It's my turn. And your turn to be helped.”

“What? But what are y-”

“That's enough. Listen to me.” She pointed at a spot under the bridge, near the embankment. “Park yourself right there. I'm going to get help. Stay right there, and don't move unless zombies are trying to eat you.”

She took two steps back and spread her wings. “I'll be back. If I have to fly to Oatsfield to get help, I will. Follow the train tracks, right? I can make it there and back in a day at most.”

“Amy, wait, you don't know the way. What if-”

Without exchanging another word, she lifted into the air and made a wide, circling ascent out of the riverbed. Once she reached ground level again, she turned to face me, extending a single talon toward the spot I was occupying.

Stay put. I got it.

It wasn't like I had much choice. At least I had Lita's hand-me-down rifle, assuming it hadn't been damaged in the fall too, but it would give anything hostile pause if I so much as pointed it at them.

I just had to hope she knew what she was doing. There was no way she'd find Oatsfield from here. The train tracks were half a day's travel away in the air, and only if you knew which way you were going!

But what could I do? And Amy wasn't stupid. She had a better chance of surviving the trip to civilization than I did, even before now.

She'd be okay, no matter what happened to me. That's what I had to cling to.

The rest of the day wore on at an agonizing pace, with me having nothing to do but hide under the bridge while I scrutinized every creak above for signs that something or someone was approaching.

Amy either forgot that she had all of our water now or otherwise decided to take it with her, so that left me with nothing but a couple of MREs to hold me over until she got back. Given the pain I was in, I wasn't interested in eating anyway, despite knowing full well that my body needed the nutrition now more than ever.

Like getting a sick patient to eat, I guess. Some things are beyond reason.

And sometimes it felt like things were beyond hope. I wasn't hungry, and really wasn't thirsty, but I was exhausted, and the longer I sat there the worse my body ached. My forelimbs were stiff now, and I'd convinced myself that maybe I had fractured something after all. It was good that we hadn't tried to walk out of here. I wouldn't have made it far, and then what? At least I had cover here.

At least nothing ever showed up. No roving Talons came to drag me back to Fillydelphia. No hellhounds erupted from the ground. No zombies. Not even a bloatsprite. It was just me and the silence of the wasteland.

I spent most of that time reflecting on my time in Fillydelphia, and reconsidering every decision I made. Every person I tried to help, and every one I hurt directly or indirectly. I really had tried my best to do as little harm as I could, but was it an excuse after voluntarily joining Talon Company?

Did I deserve to be rescued?

Did I deserve to have lived longer than Liese, Isaac or Egon? What about Yvonne? She'd been a medic too. She deserved better than what she got. I never went with her out in the field at any point that I knew, but she seemed like the kind to treat others with respect and help who she could. Why did I live when she didn't?

I slumped onto the ground, ignoring the mud and muck seeping into my plumage and coat. I probably didn't deserve anything at this point, but it was all outside of my control. Like it always had been, my fate wasn't in my claws.

And thinking about it could drive a person crazy.

The first sounds of activity above came maybe an hour after the sun went down again.

I tried to sit up, but my legs hadn't stopped hurting, so the best I could manage was an awkward slide over to the nearest support beam. I couldn't get a good look, but there were lights. And... the clank of wagons. Not a zombie or other mindless hostile life, but it might be Steel Rangers. Or maybe-

“Kaz?”

Amy!

I tried to sit up again, and this time I managed to prop myself up with considerable effort. One of the lights swept over me. Who was with her?

Hooves thumped on the embankment down the way, and dark shapes slid down the shallow slope to get to the riverbed. Amy swooped down and landed next to me.

“Kaz? Are you okay? I got help.”

“No better than when you left,” I answered truthfully. “Who is it?”

She stepped aside for a small, lanky unicorn stallion wearing a red coat. A scribe? Pony goddesses, she had gotten Steel Rangers to help us. How in the hell had she managed that?

The stallion trotted up to me and flashed a little smile. Something was familiar about him. Where had I seen him? No way it was during one of the Steel Ranger incursions near Fillydelphia. I'd never remember one of their faces. And those weren't Steel Ranger robes. No weird sword and apple.

Wait. Rusty. Rusty Rivet. From the pit? From all those years ago? How…

“Crimson's Caravan, to the rescue,” he said, letting his smile grow into a grin.

I had so many questions, but they could wait. I eyed the faintly glowing violet potions suspended in his magic.

He could ask for my first hatched chick for one of those potions.

It didn't take very long to get the story put together.

Amy found the caravan not long after she took off, but they weren't interested in detouring for some charity case that would delay them from getting 'to anywhere as far from Fillydelphia as possible.' Even her offer to trade our armor and guns didn't change their minds. They tried to leave her behind, but she didn't give up. She spent an hour hounding them, but it wasn't until the caravan stopped to pick up a band of refugees from Fillydelphia that things changed.

One stallion in the group recognized her. An older unicorn with a bad rasping cough named Silver Rush. The name was vaguely familiar, and I remembered something about running into him with Amy once, but we must have left a good impression. He knew who she was talking about when she asked the caravan to detour to help.

When he mentioned my name, Rusty Rivet caught on too.

Rusty, apparently, joined Crimson's Caravan not long after he got out of Fillydelphia. I still couldn't believe it, but Red Eye was true to his word. The stallion survived his tour in the crater, so they gave him the symbol to protect him from ever being enslaved in Fillydelphia again, and they let him go. Apparently, he suffered some permanent brain damage since he agreed to work the caravans nearby, but 'the bits were good' and 'if Red Eye let me go, I guess he won't take me back either, like he promised.' He wasn't the leader of the caravan, but apparently he had enough clout to get the leader to change their mind at that point.

We had to surrender our guns and armor as part of the deal, but it was an easy exchange to make. A much cheaper price than my first hatched chick. They even gave us the supplies we needed for the trip, which we were told would only take a couple of days now. A detour to Oatsfield 'made economic sense,' according to the caravaners. At least we didn't have to offer anything else to secure the destination.

And as we settled into the rear most wagon, where Silver Rush and the other slaves they picked up were positioned, for maybe the first time in six years…

...I felt a stirring of genuine peace.

And a couple of days later when the fluttering remains of the windmills rising above Oatsfield appeared on the horizon, I felt more than that.

Hope.

Level 13 - Max level achieved.