When Nightmares Become Real

Henry Jones had shed his military ranking after those two months in the forest. He decided that his brothers-in-arms weren't coming after him. It's just you and me, Rocky... Just you and me...

He still had his guns, though he did not have much ammunition left. He had one 200-round magazine left in his LMG, after running into several packs of those wolves made from wood, the giant lions with scorpion tails, and a very strange - and very scary - giant, purplish bear (that alone took four out of the nine magazines he had to use). The rest of his ammo was being save when he finally found the group of enemies that were hunting him down.

Jones didn't know much about them, other than that they had effective guns. Nothing like they could have in the Amazon...

He had just gotten done clearing out a camp of the rival humans. Pulling a very large, makeshift knife from a sheath on one body, he studied it. The blade was made from bone - Probably one of those mutant lion things. - and the hilt and handle were made from a sanded down wood, probable taken from a native tree. "C'mon, Rocky, it's time to leave and get back to camp."

Rocky barked in compliance. His leg had healed up very well considering the quick job Jones had done with the splint, although he still got around on a limp. Probably since the bone fused back together crookedly. If I ever get back, I'll have to make sure the doctors get it to heal correctly. I doubt I we'll ever get back though. We'd have gotten back by now if it were possible.

Jones wanted to slap himself. How dare he think like that! He was about to scold himself when he heard footsteps and voices. "Shit. Rocky, come on, hurry!"

A voice yelled in what Jones translated as, "Hey, look! It's that asshole American! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" Jones ran as fast as he could, Rocky right on his tail.

The enemies opened fire. He kept running, chunks of trees and dirt spraying out in every which way. There was a clearing ahead. "Rocky, come on! We're almost there!"

He was right. Almost.

He heard his only companion yelp in pain. He turned to see what he hoped was actually another nightmare. It was just like the other. Rocky was hit in the shoulder. He rolled and hit a tree, whimpering quietly. Yelling in defiance - he refused to let the nightmare really happen - he dropped and emptied his last LMG clip into the general direction the enemies were. Silence.

He turned to the dog only to confirm what he had feared. Rocky was dying and he had no medical supplies. They had been stolen, used, or lost. It began to play out like the dream: he cried, began saying his goodbyes to the dog, and put the pistol to Rocky's head. But there was one difference. There were heavy hoof beats coming from his left. He readied his pistol; if the enemy killed him, he was going to go down shooting.

Instead, something unimaginable happened. A smaller version of a horse, purple in color with a dark purple mane and a magenta strip down the middle and a tail to match, burst into the clearing, panting. It spoke. "NO! STOP!"

He couldn't believe his ears. Or his eyes. Through a spot on its forehead where the mane parted, there was a horn to match the hair color. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

The muzzle of his pistol was pointed directly in its face. He had lost the suppressor while running from the group a month ago. Instead of anger or determination in its eyes, he saw fear. "What. Are. You." He said in a quiet, anger-filled but defeated voice.

The thing spoke again. "W-what?"

"YOU HEARD ME! WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU."

"I-I... I am the pony that is saving you and your dog's lives."

Jones didn't know what to think. All he could think of was blowing the thing's brains out and continue to put Rocky out of his misery, but something was off. The thing- It must be a she, the voice sounds feminine. And she said 'pony'... What the fuck is this? the pony's voice had a tone that sounded strange. Filled with fear, but matter-of-factly.

His voice shook with what he couldn't say was fear or rage. "Why should I believe you?"

"There is no reason, but you have no choice. It is good for both of us." He tried to ask she meant, but she cut him off. "Don't ask, just listen. I'm telling the truth."

Just then, heard more yelling, coming from behind the purple pony. He heard someone, or something, speaking with a Southern accent. "Twilight? Twilight, where'd yah go?"

The one standing in front of him turned and yelled back, "AJ! I found him, we're over here!"

"There's more of you?" Jones was the one getting scared now.

"There's no time." She turned back to the forest behind her. "Fluttershy, hurry! The dog won't last much longer!"

In the confusion, he had forgotten about Rocky. "You have medical supplies?" She nodded quickly. "Thank God!" He turned back to Rocky, putting the pistol away. "Rocky, stay with me. You're going to get fixed up." The dog was fading. "HURRY! PLEASE!" He was beginning to cry again.

The pony called Twilight was unnerved by seeing him cry. He was about to explain what happened when five more of the ponies ran into the clearing, a yellow one having saddlebags on its back.

Twilight walked over and tried to pull him away from Rocky, but he fought back. Shoving her off, she became frustrated. Trying again, she said, "No, it's okay. Fluttershy is going to help him! Give her room." He stopped struggling. I have to trust her. She's the only one that hasn't been hostile. "Fine..."

He scooted back, keeping is other weapon out of reach of the ponies. He realized he shouldn't worry; it was out of ammo. The one called Fluttershy walked over quickly and set the saddlebags down. "Oh dear, he's hurt bad. I can stop the bleeding and give him something for pain, but he won't last long. Twilight, we'll need to get..." She turned to Jones, beginning to wrap the bandages around the bullet wound. "You said his name is 'Rocky?'" He nodded. "We'll need to get Rocky to the hospital in Ponyville, fast."

Jones had lots of questions for the strange, passive ponies, but that would wait. All he cared about right now was getting Rocky somewhere safe and keeping him alive. Succumbing to the wounds unknown to him, Jones began to pass out and was unconscious before his head hit the dirt.