The Page of Pride

The pages of the Necronomicon

Paragraph one

The rescue

I was following the rails of the line between Ponyville and Canterlot. I was now walking for about two days, with a destination, yet I was walking without purpose.

“Five years of peace. And now everypony I ever knew is a zombie.”

Normally I am quiet when I’m walking the wastes. A zombie could sneak up and kill me. At least that is what the survival experts had thought me and my friends. I should use the quiet to observe my surroundings.

I don’t know about them, but a zombie isn’t a master in stealth, they could come with another horde and I just would have to sprint and they would soon lose track of me.

“Just keep on walking, we’re almost there!” I yelled.

Maybe I just want them to find me, it would make things so much easier. It’s not like I’ll find anything in Canterlot.

“Always think positive!”

Which means, shut up and keep on walking.

Nearby the rails I noticed a small shack. I looked at it for about five seconds until I shrugged and grabbed in my saddlebag. I took my shotgun and checked if it was loaded.

I had six bullets left which meant that I had to reach Canterlot quickly.

I walked over towards the shack and checked around it to see if there are any zombies roaming around. There was a small window through which I looked.

No visible zombies.

I kicked the door in and started checking if there was anything I could use.

“Jackpot! Canned food, TONIGHT I DINE!”

As I admired what I had found. I heard groans, so I looked outside to see if there were zombies approaching. But I couldn’t see anything, it was getting dark so I stayed inside the shack and locked the door. I opened the cans and started filling my empty stomach.

----[一]----

During the night I had stayed inside the shack. That is one of the rules you learn during a zombie apocalypse, don’t sleep outside. But you could also call it common sense.

The next day I had covered the rest of the distance and stood now in front of the gates of Canterlot. The once ivory-white city, now wore a deep-grey. Cracks covered every intact part of each building. The streets were littered by debris of destroyed buildings, shards of broken windows and burned pieces of wood.

I decided that I would first look for a weapon shop, get some more ammo, maybe get another gun, a knife, and who knows what more I'll find.

I started walking through the decaying streets, my focus completely at my surroundings. I held my shotgun ready, ready to blow off the head of the next unlucky zombie that crossed my way.

I startled a few times as some debris crumbled off the walls. But, surprisingly, I hadn’t seen any zombie yet.

“I’m going to jinx it, but this is too easy.”

I kept on walking, even as I felt like something was following me. At the moment I dismissed these thoughts as being the result of paranoia. So I kept on walking until I stood in front of the best know weapon shop. Mjölna’s weapons. A big wooden sign hung above the entrance with next to it a hammer and a lightning bolt.

I went inside and started to check if there were any dead inside. And there weren't, but as I checked I could swear that I saw something creeping across the room. Yet, as I checked, nothing was there.

After ten minutes, I decided that the place was safe and started searching for what I originally had intended to come here.

It was like Heartwarmings Eve. I found a bowie knife and a box filled with shotgun shells. Sadly all the guns were gone, I took the rest of the bits that were in the cash register and put my saddle bag back on.

But as I went outside, I saw three zombies standing in front of the shop. They growled at me, and with each growl drool drivelled from their half-rotten jaws.

As I took my shotgun out, ready to shoot the three their heads off. I noticed something strange.

They only growled at me, it was true that sometimes zombies need their time to register a new prey standing in front of them. But it never took them so long to attack. Even the blind ones could somehow detect their prey without any problems.

Normally, they should have attacked me the moment I took out my gun. And yet they didn’t. I tried to move, but the moment I tried to just walk away, the three took each an intimidating step forwards. As I recoiled at their sudden movement, their behavior 'normalised'.

“You want to keep me here? Why?”

They just kept on growling.

“Look, I don’t have to kill you guys… a second time. And well, if you’re not planning to eat me, you could also just let me go…" I motioned one of my hooves towards one of the streets. "How about it?” And there it happened. I grinned at a trio of zombies, negotiating about my life. “Oh come on! You can have my food, it is nice.” I took a conserve of peaches out of my saddlebag and held it in front of the zombies. “See? Nice food, good food and also dead food. So you don’t have to kill me.” But they just kept on growling at me. “Peaches, you remember peaches? Yummie... hey, Maggot Sack, I’m talking to you?”

The middle zombies took a step forward and barked at me, flinging strings of drool all over my face.

“Ok, no Maggot Sack. Geez, if I had known that zombies take offense to that, then I would have called you something else. Let’s see, your cutie mark is… a rotten hole in your flank… ok, I assume you take offense to that too.”

My question was answered as the zombie barked again, flinging even more drool at my face. As I wiped the drool away, I glared at the zombie. “I’m sorry, would you prefer if I just called the three of you zombie a, zombie b and zombie c?”

This time the zombie didn’t bark. “Ok then, so zombie a, zombie b, zombie c." I tapped at an imaginary hat at each of the three. "It was nice making your acquaintance. But I really need to go now.”

Of course, the three just continued to growl at me.

“Come on, ladies. You are ladies, right? It’s so hard to tell, since most of your faces have been mangled.”

A loud bonk went through the whole city. And the three zombies who withheld me from moving, winced and ran away in random directions.

“Should, I be glad that they left me. Or worried about what will come now?”

As the nearest advertising pillar was crushed by an enormous yellow arm, I decided for the later. Taken by surprise, I let my gun fall to the ground as one of the pieces of the pillar sent me flying towards the middle of the street.

I tried to ignore the pain that filled my chest and tried to stand up and run away. However, everywhere I looked, zombies where blocking my way. And as I looked up at the buildings, I could see zombies assemble everywhere, like fans for a hoofball game. They looked down at me. Like I was an animal at the zoo.

Or more like the poor critter they fed the animals with.

As I turned around I saw the animal that was about to devour me. A big yellow Minotaur with milk-white eyes and a rusty nose-ring hanging from his half-rotten nose, having lost one of his horns and gotten two extra arms—on which he rested part of his weight.

He stretched the two arms—which where free—in an intimidating manner. Causing to look like a gorilla trying to impose his opponent. Or more like a gladiator trying to win the hearts of the spectators, by devouring the heart of his opponent.

He let out a roar that was audible throughout whole Canterlot.

If fear had an appearance, this would be it. And I was paralyzed by it. I couldn’t move, not only because of how the Minotaur looked. But, also because of the behaviour of the other zombies. They looked—really looked at me. Not in the absent manner I’m used to see a zombie tear somepony’s flesh apart. But with genuine interest. Like they wanted to see blood flow out of a desire to see somepony die, instead of their desire to fill their empty stomachs.

This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening! I swallowed as I saw the Minotaur doing… nothing?

He just stood there, observing my every movement. Looking like a predator, ready to throw himself at his prey. But waiting on the signal that would command him to do so.

And that signal was more than frightening. Three zombies—who wore the armour of the day guard—stood on top of one of the buildings, each holding a trumpet in their hooves. They blew and let the melody of it resound through the entire city. At the same moment, other zombie-guard ponies—who wielded the armour of the night guard—were on top of another building, playing a battle-rhythm on the drums.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled at the skies.

The Minotaur slowly moved towards me, yet kept a certain distant. He roared a second time at which the spectators reacted in a cheer-like manner.

In the meantime I had made peace with myself.

This isn’t that bad… actually. I was getting tired of running anyways. It’s not like I have anything left to fight for.

“What are you waiting for?!” I yelled at him, while picking up a rock which I flung at his face “You want me to resist?! I won’t. You want me to run?! I can’t. You and your FILTHY kind have already taken everything I’ve ever cared for! Everything I’ve ever loved! My family! My friends! You can’t take my life anymore, since your kind already took it! AND IF I HAVE TO DIE FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT! THEN I’LL TAKE FROM YOU THE LAST THING YOU COULD EVER GET FROM ME! The fun of killing me.” I took a step forward facing the beast in front of me. His rotten breath burned in my nose, but I didn't care. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.” I spat in his face.

The Minotaur looked dumbfounded for two seconds but then proceeded to do the thing I had begged it to do. He grabbed my throat and crushed me against the nearest wall. I coughed up some blood as the Minotaur inspected me. “What? You expected me to squeak? But then I would let you enjoy yourself, now would I.” Even as the Minotaur tried to press the life out of me, I could only grin. I was dying like a stallion should. Laughing death itself in the face.

As I laughed and smiled in my final moment, I felt the grip of the Minotaur loosen. I plummeted towards the ground and gasped for air as I felt—again—blood flowing towards my brain. “I told you—” The rest of the sentence got stuck in my throat as I looked around.

The entire city stood ablaze—in genuine red and orange flames, fire I hadn't seen in years. I saw charred corpses fall from the buildings, and everywhere ponies—in brown armour, with red stripes delineating each part of the armour—running around the place with flamethrowers, burning the dead alive.

As I looked back at the Minotaur I could make out what he was staring at. A dim-yellow coloured pony with a long-golden flowing mane—wearing the same armour as the rest of the ponies, yet without a helmet—he wielded an enormous broad sword with a burgundy handle. Looking with a determined frown at the Minotaur.

The Minotaur took the same posture as he had taken before he had approached me and let another roar resonate through the burning city. He charged at the pony and rammed his entire body inside the nearest wall.

The pony—the beast had tried to crush with his weight—stood with the same posture—showing his back at the Minotaur—five steps towards the left.

The Minotaur freed himself out of the debris and shook off the rest of the dust and small stones that sticked to his flesh, before looking back at the pony. Gritting his teeth he charged again, crushing himself into the wall—where I still laid, only five meters from me. Close enough to feel the impact travelling through the wall, far enough not to get hurt by flying debris.

I slowly felt my consciousness fading, but I could still make out what was happening. The pony had done the same thing again. He stood five steps to the right, back at his starting point—his broadsword was the only thing that had moved in his posture.

The Minotaur took longer this time to free himself from under the debris. But he did, and he looked angrier than one could describe. Yet he staggered, and as he opened his mouth to let out another roar, green goo started to spurt out of his face like a dam that was about to burst.

Slowly, cuts became visible over his face.

His face was cut into three slices, each slice slowly sliding of its face and falling onto to ground. The beast itself—still—managed to walk two steps until falling to the ground.

The pony walked over to it and cut off its limbs with professional precision. He then whistled, at the moment I couldn’t hear anything anymore, but it looked like he whistled.

Another of those armoured ponies trotted over with an armoured saddlebag strapped on his back. He took it of opened it, took a few test tubes and few Petri dishes out of it. He took some samples of the beast and stowed them away in his saddlebag. He then took a canister and drenched the beast in a dubious liquid. Then he assigned one of the ponies with flamethrowers, to burn it.

As I watched the beast—that had tried to kill me in an attempt to entertain itself—burn in blazing fire. I felt a combination of disbelief, confusion but most importantly, relief.

The pony—that had slain the beast—walked over to me and looked with his ocean-blue eyes at me. It took him a few seconds to confirm that I’m still alive—at least for the time being—but as soon as he got the hint, he smiled, turned around and started to yell. Like in a flash, four ponies with a stretcher appeared and loaded me on it. An armoured vehicle emerged from the flames and opened its trailer.

The ponies loaded me inside, and the pony that had saved me jumped in and sat next to me. I saw his mouth moving, but I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

After the armoured trailer closed like the beak of a dragon and magical lights turned on—illuminating the inside of the vehicle—the pony probably realized that I had lost my consciousness. After that he probably checked my pulse and my breath to ensure that I hadn’t died from the shock. And I can imagine that—after he was sure that I was still alive—he grinned.

All after all… I had… survived…