No Easy Hope: Surviving The Dead

by LunarKnightmare

Rating: mature
Tags: Spike, Big Macintosh, Adventure, Human, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sad, Princess Luna, Original Character
Length: 3580

Spike Dragul is living the good life... But when he meets a man named Gabriel his world will make a turn for the worst when The Dead start roam free!

How strong are you? Does your will to survive push you forward in the time of death, and destruction? What do you do when the world around you crumbles? What is your first thought of the world, and what is its worth when The Dead roam free?
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Meet Spike Dragul, a simple middle aged guy living the dream as a wealthy man (thanks to his successful grandparents who have recently passed), and making a friend or two due to his socially awkward issues. Meets a man named Gabriel, who peeks his curiosity the moment he meets him, quickly making a friendly connection he buys some property of him and delves into becoming a backwoods forest recluse in the Everfree Forest. But as soon as he meets him and fishing to find out what his past is, he quickly discovers that there are secrets and classified information that he is not suppose to hear... but Gabriel tells him anyway. While he finds out that there are monsters lurking in the shadows there is a catastrophe unfolding down south.
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When the world goes to shit what are you planning to make of yourself?
Who can you trust?
How will you survive?
~and most importantly~
Are you prepared to Survive The Dead?

*Authors Note*
Other characters will be added on later, due to the fact none will appear for a little bit into the book.
Any questions and or comments can be only on questions about the story, grammatical errors I might have, and or otherwise praise or criticism (I KINDLY ASK YOU FOR HONEST CRITICISM, EVEN IF ITS BAD, it helps me out a lot to make sure the story is enjoyable for you) :D

Published 2014-06-19 23:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-19 23:20:03 UTC

Prologue *Edited*

Prologue *Edited*

Prologue

Gabriel raised the stock of the MaregianP90 assault rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon's silencer muffled most of the noise from the shot. It made a dull crack, like an empty box dropped on the concrete floor, followed by the metallic clang of the next round going into the chamber. He moved the barrel a few inches to the left and fired again.

Crack-clang

"You are way too good with that thing," I said. "Scary good."

Gabriel lowered his rifle and grinned as he looked at his handiwork. Two dead bodies lay face down on the ground about forty yards ahead of us on the other side of the perimeter fence. Both had gaping exit wounds visible on the backs of their heads, and a rust colored sludge began to ooze out of their broken skulls, staining the snow beneath. The cold Everfree Mountain air stung my nostrils with the acrid scent of cordite as Gabriel turned to face me, still smiling. His white teeth stood out in contrast to his dark black beard, and his bright gray eyes twinkled with humor.

"You didn't think it was too scary last week when I saved your ass from getting eaten," he said, his breath rising around his face in a thick fog.

It was a cold late winter morning, Winter Wrap Up would have been going on in a couple of weeks, but with the land in its condition right now, I highly doubted that any of the festivities would happen. The sun was just beginning to crest the purple mountain peaks in the distance. Reddish-gold shafts of light pierced the gloom, sparkling against the snow and fallen tree limbs. The air was biting cold, but not bad enough to get its teeth past my heavy winter coat that I had gotten from my sister Twilight before The Outbreak. Sighing heavily on the sad memory of the up-beat happy librarian, with my head facing down I turned and looked over at Gabe.

"First of all, you didn't save me from anything," I said. "I knew those two walkers were behind me, and I would have killed them right after I finished the one crawling beneath the fence. Second, those shots went by close enough to tickle me. You know how to say 'duck', right? Maybe you should try that next time."

Gabriel laughed. "Hey, I was just trying to help you out."

"You're an ass, Gabe. I hope you know that."

We made our way down to the fence, snow crunching under our boots as we walked. the incident Gabe is referring to happened a little over a week ago as he and I were coming back from an unsuccessful scouting trip near a small hut where few residents resided. I remembered one of the women who lived there before The Outbreak, I think here name was Zecora? Anyway, we were making a circuit of the ten-foot steel fence that circles the mountaintop, and as we approached the main gate, we spotted a crawler trying to pull itself under the bottom rail. It heard us coming, and started hauling itself across the ground.

At the same time, I heard rustling in the Everfree's to my right, and turned around to see two walking maggot farms stumbling in my direction. They must have heard the other one moan, and set off in the direction of the sound. I decided to deal with the crawler first, before it made to much more noise. The other undead probably wouldn't start moaning until they actually saw me.

I drew my small-sword from its sheath on my back as I approached the crawler. The small-sword is a descendant of the rapier style swords that were popular in Prance a few centuries ago, but unlike the rapier, a small-sword does not have sharp edges. It does, however, have a very sharp tip, and due to the triangular shape of the blade, it is slender and narrow, but as strong and durable as a suspension spring. Despite its name, a small-sword is actually twenty-seven inches from cross guard to tip, making it the perfect weapon for skewering undead eyeballs and rotten brain matter.

I kicked the crawler onto its back, planted a boot on its withered neck, lined up the sword with its eye, and plunged the blade downward. A quick twist of the ornate handle scrambled its brain, and the crawler went limp. Just as I was about to turn around and deal with the two walkers behind me, I heard the familiar thump-clang of Gabriel's P90, and the distinctive thup-thup of bullets passing close by my head. Two bodies crumpled to the dirt a few feet behind me. I shot Gabriel an irritated glance.

"Cut that one close enough, asshole?"

"They were getting to close," he said. " You can't let them do that."

"I knew they were there, Gabe. I had plenty of time. Next time just say something first."

I have the utmost confidence in Gabe's marksmanship, but I do not like being downrange of anyone firing a weapon if I can help it. Gabe brought my thoughts back to the present by tapping me on the shoulder and pointing a gloved finger down the mountainside.

"More of 'em coming. Guess they didn't want their friends to have all the fun."

I looked where Gabe was pointing and saw a loose knot of five ghouls staggering their way toward us. They looked to be about a hundred yards away.

"I wish I could figure out how the hell they keep finding us," I said. "You think they know we're here somehow?"

"I doubt it," Gabe replied. "Probably just wandering around looking for food, chasing deer or something."

I had seen the remains of a few animals unlucky enough to be blindsided by the walking meat sacks, and although it was not a pretty sight, it was encouraging to see the Reanimation Phage did not affect any animals. Gabe has know for years that the infection only affects humans, and he has told me many times, but it is nice for me to see it myself for conformation. Undead people are bad enough. The last thing I want to encounter is a Revenant Manticore or Timberwolve.

Gabe shifted his P90 around his back and held out a hand for my hunting rifle.

"No way, dude," I said. "You already got to have some fun this morning. Besides, I need the target practice." Gabe frowned, but dropped his hand.

"Fine, but try not to waste to much ammo. We've only got a few hundred rounds left for that thing," he said.

I put on hand on the fence rail and rested the forearm of the rifle between my thumb and forefinger, tucked the stock firmly into my right shoulder, and peered through the scope. I lined up my crosshairs right above the forehead of the lead walker to compensate for the drop of the projectile, and concentrated on timing its jerky, uncoordinated movements. Through the magnified view of the scope, I could see the dead walking in front of the pack had been tall, lean young man before he died. the tattered remains of his business suit flapped around its grayish skin, and its shoes had long since fallen apart, leaving its ruined feet exposed to the elements. A lime green tie dangled from around the corpses neck in the frigid wind. He somewhat looked familiar to a man I used to know, from the nearby town.

Letting go of that thought shaking my head, I let out half a breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. The stock bucked towards my shoulder, and even with the silencer on the barrel, the report of the rifle was loud enough to make me flinch. Through the scope, I saw the corpse behind him in specks of gray and brown.

"Nice shot," Gabe said, peering through his binoculars. "See if you can do that four more times."

I worked the bolt of the rifle, chambering another round. The next three undead dropped with one shot each, but on my last target, my aim was slightly low and the bullet punched a hole through the ghouls cheekbone. It staggered backward, then righted itself and doggedly trudged forward. Most of the left half of his face was gone, but its brain remained intact. The hunting rifle was out of ammunition, so I handled it to Gabriel and reached back for my sword.

"No sense in wasting any more ammo on just one," I said. "Reload that for me?"

Gabe slung the hunting rifle over his shoulder and opened the cover to my backpack, taking out a handful of thirty-ought rounds. I stuck the point of my sword into the frozen ground, propped the handle up against a steel fencepost, and crossed my forearms over the rail as I watched the corpse stagger up the mountain.

"You making any progress in that journal of yours?" Gabe asked as he reloaded the Winchester.

"Yeah, I guess. Mostly simple stuff. Supply and ammo inventories, places we've scouted already, fresh water and building materials, things like that."

"I thought you were going to write about what happened to you before The Outbreak?"

I turned my head to look at him. "It's not my favorite subject."

"Mine either. But it may be a good way to past the time."

I watched the big man thumb a few rounds into the Winchester's magazine, and then looked thoughtfully then looked back at the frost white shimmer of the surrounding Everfree woodlands. A gentle breeze blew in, sending small swirls of powdery snow dancing through the air.

Good the wind is blowing east, I thought. That'll keep the worst of the radiation away from us.

Gabe finished loading the rifle, worked the bolt to chamber a round, and handed it back to me. I slung the strap across my chest to leave my hands free as the walker shuffled to within ten yards of the fence. I was expecting it to start moaning and gurgling, and frowned when it didn't. Holding up a hand to shield my eyes from the sun, I saw the reason the ghoul was so quiet-its throat had been torn out.

It wore the tattered remains of a Celestial Royal Guard uniform, and gaped at us with wide, bloodshot milky white eyes, mouth hanging open, a look of perpetual hunger contorting its wasted features into something sub-human. It ran into the fence rails and began to heave against them, reaching bone-white arms through the gaps.

I brought my sword up and drove the point through the walkers eye, giving the blade a practiced twist as it went in. When I felt it hit the backside of the creatures skull, I quickly drew back, covering an arm up over my face to avoid the splatter. The corpse shuddered, tottered for a moment, and then crumpled to the ground in a heap. I reached a hand under the lowest rail in the fence and started pulling it towards me.

"What're you doin'?" Gabe asked.

"He's still got his duty belt on. I want to see if it has anything useful on it," I replied.

Gabe bent down and helped me pull the body to the fence, dragging it close enough for me to reach through and unbuckle the duty belt. After some tugging and cursing on my part, I finally managed to rip it free and pull it off the corpse.

I stood up and looked it over. Leather attachments for handcuffs, a radio, and a Taser were all empty, but the expandable baton was still in its sheath, along with a rusted can of pepper spray. Most importantly, the pistol was still in its holster, which I recognized it as a Sig Sauer 9mm with a magazine in it, and two more magazines on the backside of the belt. Knowing that the pistol originated from Germaney, I knew it would be a reliable piece of equipment to have.

"Well I'll be damned," I said, holding up the belt for Gabe to see. "Look what we got here."

"Nice. Let's hope it still works."

I nodded in agreement. A serviceable pistol and forty-five rounds of ammo was more than we had scored on our last two scouting trips. I stepped behind Gabe and put the duty belt in his pack.

The rest of the patrol passed without incident, and the good fortune of finding the dead cop's weapon buoyed our spirits. Life had been tough over the pat few months, and any stroke of good luck was a welcome change.

After we finished patrolling, we loaded the body closest to the fence on a makeshift sled and dumped it over the sheer cliff that made up the entire western face of the mountain. It tumbled down gracelessly, taking its place among a steadily growing heap of corpses lying broken on the rocks below.

Rest easy, friend, and thanks for the gear.

"What do you want to do about the bodies down the hill?" I asked, as we walked back toward the gate.

"I'm to tired and hungry to drag all those sons of bitches all the way up here," Gabe replied. "Let's just fire up the truck and use the winch."

Normally I would have protested to use the precious fuel, but the morning was cold, and the rumbling of my empty stomach was becoming a distraction. I grunted in agreement and went into the cabin to get the keys. We pulled the Tacoma up to the eastern side of the fence and used the winch mounted on front to haul the bodies up to the gate. I would have checked them to see if they had anything useful on them, but their clothing had been reduced to shreds, like most of the infected. It wasn't worth the effort.

After the last of the morning's casualties had been disposed of, Gabe and I parked the truck under the carport and went inside to make some much needed breakfast.

To avoid tracking in mud, we left our boots just inside the door, hung up our guns on hooks set into the wall, and propped our swords up in a corner. Gabe squatted down by the stove to get a fire going, while I grabbed a few strips of dried meat and some canned potatoes from the pantry. Taking the lid off a rain barrel, I ladled clean water into a pot with dried meat, then poured some more water into a larger pot and set both of them on a stove.

"What's the hot water for?" Gabe asked

"Tea."

He rocked back on his heels and looked over his shoulder. "What's the occasion?"

"When was the last time you looked at a calendar?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. Couple of weeks, maybe... why?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Well, Happy Hearths Warming Eve."

He looked bewildered for a moment, then laughed.

"No shit. Man, I totally forgot. Hearths Warm'..." He shook his head and went back to feeding little sticks into the kindling. As the fire grew, he motioned toward a stack of firewood a few feet away.

"You feel like going out and cutting down some more wood today? Between what's here in the cabin and under the tarp out back, we've got about three days' worth. Maybe more if we start sleeping down in the bunker."

"Yeah, might as well," I replied. "We're gonna' need it sooner or later. Better get it now while the weather is still tolerable."

Our underground shelter stayed a constant 60 degrees, but since we had finished work on the perimeter fence, we preferred to sleep above ground in the cabin. It saved electricity, which was harder to come by than firewood.

Once Gabe had the fire burning brightly, he tossed a few larger pieces of wood into the stove and shut the door, twisting the air valve open to keep it fed. By the time breakfast was ready, the cabin had warmed considerably, and Gabe and I were able to hang up our heavy coats before sitting down to eat. I poured the tea into a pair of metal cups and handed one to Gabe.

"To Hearths Warming Eve," I said, holding up my cup," and being alive to see it."

"To Hearths Warming." Gabe clinked his cup against mine, and we took a sip.

"Mmm, good lord, I forgot how good this stuff is," I said.

"Tell you what," Gabe said," come The Winter Wrap Up, we should shoot down the river over to Ponyville. Remember that store there, Heavenly Leaves, or something like that?"

"Ponyville, is that little town just west away of here right? About fifteen miles or so down the river?"

Gabe nodded.

"Might not be a bad idea," I said.

It would be a risk canoeing all the way to Ponyville, but then again, anything was a risk these days. And besides, a little caffine pick-me-up is always welcome on the trail.

We finished the meal in companionable silence, eating the canned goods and splitting up the boiled meat. Gabe lifted the pot to pour some of the broth into my empty cup, but I stopped him.

"Nope, that's all yours buddy. My Hearth's present to you."

Gabe chuckled. "Damn, now I gotta get you something."

I pointed toward his pack. "You get that Sig we found this morning in working condition, and get those bullets cleaned up, and we'll call it even."

"You got a deal."

After breakfast, we spent the rest of the morning cleaning the guns we brought with us on the patrol, and then set to cleaning our hand weapons. My small-sword is easy to maintain, as it doesn't have any edges that need sharpening. All I have to do is wipe smears of brain matter off the last seven or eight inches, and run a steel file over the tip to keep it nice and pointy. Gabe's Falcata, however, with its high-carbon steel and sweeping leaf-shaped blade, takes quite a bit more work to keep sharp.

The sword was a custom job I had commissioned for him as a birthday present three years ago, which was about a year and a half before the end of civilization.

While reminiscing on the past on how he got the gift from me, and how life was before the collapse of the world, he brought me out of my reverie by throwing a piece of oil soaked cloth at my head.

"Hey, space cadet, what are you grinning about over there?"

"Just remembering the day I gave you that sword."

Gabe paused for a moment, then laughed and shook his head. "I hope you can remember more of it than I can. We were so drunk I'm surprised we didn't cut our own fools head off. It took me two days to get over that hangover."

He made another pass over the blade with a sharpening stone.

"I have to say though, this thing has served me pretty well since the world went to shit."

His smile faded as he tested the edge of the blade with his thumb, and then returned it to its sheath. He propped the sword up against the wall, then stood up to move back in his chair.

"You know, you really should put something together to post to the Net," Gabe said, jerking a thumb toward the laptop. "Once we get past the Everfree Mountain Range we'll be able to get a signal. We should tell people about everything we've seen."

"If you're so concerned about it," I said, "why don't you write something down?"

"Because you're better at it, college boy. Besides, I got bullets to polish."

Gabe walked over to his pack and took out the duty belt we had found that morning. He removed the pistol and the ammo magazines, picked up a cleaning kit, and sat down in front of the stove to begin working on them.

I watched him for a few moments, wondering where to start. Finally, with nothing better to do, I sat down with the laptop, took a breath, flexed my fingers, and began to write.

Our world has passed away,

in wantonness o'erthrown,

there is nothing left today,

but steel and fire and stone...

Comfort, content, delight,

The ages slow brought gain,

They shriveled in a night,

Only ourselves remain...

-Rudyard Kipling

For All We Have and Are

Author's Note

Well hello Dear readers, and thank you for reading... This story will be quite a long one with what I have planned for it, and I am I need of a favor for you all... if you could post in the comments or on my personal page who you would like to be put into the story from the MLP universe, I have left it fairly open so I can let the public decide which of their favorites should be put right into the middle of the Apocalypse!!!
Also updates might be a little spacey due to my schedule over my summer break from H. School, any questions or comments are yours to say at will, But please be respectful to other commenters or critiques.
PLEASE CRITQUE HONESTLY it helps me out a lot on how the story should improve, change, or otherwise stay the same.
Thank you for your time and Happy Reading!!! :)