The Last Moron On Earth

by D_ p1 0m _7

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Human, Adventure
Length: 24287

The Event left behind only those capable of kickstarting a new life on a vastly transformed Earth. And a particularly dumb horse person.

I was never good at the whole 'functioning human adult' thing.
I'm hopeful that's all about to change, what with this 'end of the world as we know it' thing going on.

A Last Man on Earth-esque story heavily inspired by that one really cool story with the silly name about people-turned-ponies surviving in the wake of the disappearance of humanity; specifically about a particularly silly horse person's day-by-day misadventures.

A hilariously non-canon LPoE story; set in a separate universe, but several elements shamelessly taken from it. Sometimes serious(ish), sometimes silly, always dumb.
Take a gander if you think you're hard enough.

///On hiatus and undergoing some slight reworking as of….like, Late July 2k16///

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-20 02:13:57 UTC

Teralyn

A soft, peculiar hum began quite unexpectedly in the early morning hours one Saturday. It rose to a crescendo and everything stopped suddenly.

Nothing had changed.

Homes and buildings across the globe lay silent.

In the darkness of the night, a pale yellow light pooled from numerous streetlamps to the cool pavement below.

The light buzz of their lamps could be heard in the extending silence.

A vast wing of unimaginable power stretched itself over all creation. An untold number of multicolored sparks danced chaotically across the atmosphere before vanishing, taking billions of faces below with them in an instant.

The world as we knew had ended.

In a dark room, a lone figure turned in their sleep.

5.23//Quiet One

I awoke with a start, thrashing about in tangled sheets. As prior dreams faded from memory, I fought to control my breathing and free myself from the linen prison. Successful in both endeavors, I was content to simply lay in the newly cool bed. Life is just a series of hard nights and awful mornings, I thought to myself. Despite being a Saturday, I knew I’d be going in to work, and would therefore need to prepare for the day; I brought a hand to my face, dreading the drive out and job ahead. Or, at least, I attempted to do so, and was rewarded with a very hard smack.

Fully awakened and alert (and holding in tears, that friggen hurt!) I was aware of a soreness permeating through my body, and a frightening numbness in certain areas. No, not a numbness, rather a....lack of feeling.

Something was very wrong.

I gasped, a deep chill running along my spine as I peered down and found an alien body below. The offending limb was not a hand  clumsily maneuvered in a drowsy stupor, but an odd looking hoof affixed to a furred leg. ‘My’ body lay sprawled unnaturally across the bed, legs bending at different angles as I attempted to move them.

Muscle systems and limbs I was not accustomed to flopped almost lazily in strange ways as I attempted to climb out of my bed, only achieving a very undignified flop to the floor below. I decided to try learning how these new extremities worked from the undignified safety found lying on my side. After spending much longer than I’m proud to admit, I felt comfortable enough to try standing up, and, with a determined grin, slowly shuffled over to an upright mirror kept propped up against a wall.

There was a strange little horse staring back at me; tongue sticking out the corner of its mouth rather dumbly, massive emerald eyes narrowed and gazing across the smooth brown fur of the creature I had become. Hardened eyes flew open in shock, and the strange reflection did a rather good imitation of a goldfish. The, or rather, my head turned to further examine its features; my snout, or muzzle, or whatever the heck you call it, wasn’t as long as a horse’s was. As a matter of fact, from the neck up I barely resembled a horse at all, rather looking like a caricature found in a toddler’s spelling book. A short, shaggy chocolate mane and matching tail bounced at every turn, punctuating movement almost comically. I guess I had rolled out of most of my shorts, having only my underthings and a loose shirt clinging awkwardly to my new form. The horse in the mirror almost grinned, and shook its head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation.

I turned away with a snort, thinking this to simply be some rather odd dream-within-a-dream hilarity. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me to reconnect with nature, I reasoned. Or, maybe the horse thing was symbolic of eating oatmeal for dinner the night before, and a warning to not do that again. Yeah, pretty shaky theories, but what was the alternative? Being turned into a goofy looking horse? Yeah, right....

A sudden rattling of the nightstand broke me out of my stupor; my phone’s alarm had finally gone off. I bit my cheek and waited to finally awake from this dream. All I was left with was a sore cheek.

I tried grabbing it, and only succeeded in sweeping it and my glasses off the nightstand to the floor below. With an exaggerated groan, I lowered myself awkwardly and eventually managed to scoop up my phone in the crook of my....wrist?

Horse anatomy is weird.

It was then that I realized that without fingers, silencing the alarm was going to be rather difficult. Nevermind that the phone continued vibrating in my weak grasp, almost causing it another trip to the floor. Remembering a co-worker’s desire to text despite dirty hands, I eventually settled on tapping the screen with my nose; God, did I feel ridiculous.

I was able to disable the alarm, but even with the touchscreen’s massive dialpad I knew I wouldn’t be able to accurately punch in a phone number, so calling in sick on my cell was not an option. With a heavy sigh I found an old pair of gym shorts that I could tighten around my frame, and discarded the t-shirt altogether; there was nothing to hide anymore, I reasoned.

I shakily exited my room, and called my boss with the phone kept on the coffee table in the living room of the apartment. I take pride in only dropping the pen twice whilst dialing. It was well past 7 AM, he should have been able to take the call, but I was left leaving a simple message. (“I guess I overdid it last night. Can’t make it in today. Sorry.”)

With no response from work (and therefore, no responsibilities for the day) I went to talk to my roommate, assuming that whatever antics we were up to last night ended up with descrating some Native American burial ground or pissing off some Aztec horse god or something. Figuring she’d be hung-over, I burst in as noisily as I could, slamming the door and shouting a greeting.

An empty bed greeted me.

I checked beside it, knowing she was just as prone to rolling off the bed as I was, but found nothing. I called into her bathroom, and being greeted with silence in return, searched there too.

Again, there was no sign of her.

“Becky, if you can hear me this isn’t funny. I dont want to know how you pulled this crap off, but I really need to pee and I’m scared, okay?” My shaky voice reverberated throughout the apartment, but my calls, unsurprisingly, yielded nothing.

A frightening thought came to me: What if it wasn’t just me? What if, like, a whole bunch of people turned into horses? Becky probably woke up and discovered it earlier, and just went to a hospital or something. Yeah, that made sense....okay I was grasping at straws but it makes more sense than aliens, which was my next guess.

Thinking that I could at least try and enjoy this horse thing before seeking a solution, I turned the TV on. Instead of Good Day, LA, I was greeted with some re-runs of some terrible popular show I’d never gotten into. Yeah, figuring out how to use a toilet as a horse is better than this garbage.

Okay, toilets are not made for horses, we know that now.

I hope to never have to do that again.

After washing up and discovering the only available sustenance was half a bag of stale bread, I decided a trip to the market was in order. Might as well check up on the local populace, see how they were taking this whole horse thing. A thought came to me; what if no animal was off limits? Maybe people were turned into all sorts of wacky animals? That’d be pretty cool, I mused; much better than just a bunch of dumb horses. Despite its difficulty to use, I loaded my cellphone and wallet in a laptop bag, draped it around my neck, and set off, not bothering to lock the door behind me. The crappy TV and my crappier bass guitar were the only obvious things worth stealing, and even those wouldn't be worth much.

While I’d gotten to be coordinated enough to walk at a good speed (though I think I was still outclassed by some newborn foals I'd seen on the internet), the apartment stairs proved too great a challenge. I managed to slowly get down a whole floor, before falling down a flight, stumbling to my hooves across the landing, and then falling down the last flight of stairs. Surprisingly, the only thing damaged was my ego, though my embarrassment had me wishing I snapped my neck in the fall.

Despite all the swearing and thumps associated with falling down stairs (and believe me, there was much of both), there was no rushing of other tenants to investigate, and the lobby desk was unattended.

What a bunch of assholes, I thought. Someone could have died and nobody gives a damn.

I continued on outside. The ever-shining sun had me shielding my massive eyes while they adjusted to the new world beyond the door.

My ears surprised me, twisting around to try and track any sounds coming from my surroundings. I was greeted with a subtle whistle of a light breeze cutting through the nearby streets. As I lowered my forearm, er, foreleg I guess, I was rattled by the obvious lack of cars; motor traffic was usually borderline nightmarish, even this early in the morning. There weren't crashed or stalled vehicles, flashing service lights, or any of the general pandemonium associated with the usual apocalypse scenario, so I quickly ruled out zombies, or lion-people attacking us horse-people, and was left standing alone on the sidewalk.

A heavy twinge in my gut followed the hair raising all along my neck and back, but I shrugged it off and slowly made my way to the nearby market. Setting off, I noticed clear sidewalks in both directions; pedestrian traffic was always usually light, but never like this. Each step I took only worsened the tightness I felt, as each hoof-fall produced a light clip-clop that echoed across the street; cities should not be this quiet this late in the morning. My slow, unsteady gait made the trip take much longer than it should have, but even half way to my destination and hadn't encountered anything.

No people, no animal-people things like me, no animals, nothing.

With an unsteady voice, I began calling out for anybody to show themselves. That whatever the aliens did affected me too, and they had no reason to hide. That they didn't have to be alone. My increasingly panicked shouts yielded no others, and I began running. Er, what one could call running: a repeated, uneven leap is a more apt description.

I think I was crying by the time I was greeted by the chime of the automatic door; the two-toned chirp a deafening chorus in my head as I scrambled inside, seeking some semblance of normalcy. Not wanting to be judged any more than a snuffling, stumbling horse should be, I quickly blinked away my tears and tried to stand as proud as possible.

A hesitant glance at the unattended register brought my attempts crashing down.

I pleaded, asking that God, or the aliens, my roommate, or anybody stop all this and let someone come out to talk to me; to call me a doofus for over-reacting and laughing at my expense.

I laughed weakly, waiting for this massive prank to be over. I don't know who or how it was done, but shutting down all traffic in a several block radius, grounding nearby air transit, and turning me into a dopey looking horse would be pretty funny to watch on YouTube later.

I broke down in a fit of tears, begging to just let somebody come out and end this ongoing silence, to show me I wasn't alone.

Weak sobs echoed across the opposite building's facade.

A television played static; a nearby radio was silent. A potted plant hanging from the ceiling dripped rainbow colored water, pooling it into the carpet below. I stared through a foggy window into an eternal sea of black.

I blinked, and could make out a distant figure standing under a flickering streetlight.

The figure sat down, proving to be another funny looking horse.

I turned from the window, and the figure appeared on the television screen.

She spoke for some time, her image distorted and discolored. Only a piercing static came through the speakers.  She fell silent, looking to me for response.

i shrugged as well as I could in this form.

Her gaze fell, looking down with ears flat.

It was several minutes before she began again, static roaring all the while.

She paused, met my gaze with narrowed eyes, and opened her mouth to speak.

I awoke with a start, baking in the afternoon sun in the doorway of the market.

"Well, that was new," I remarked to nobody in particular. I suppose all of today's occurrences could be chalked up as 'something new', but I've never taken solitude that harshly before; I'm antisocial as hell. I barely talk with my co-workers on site, and if it weren't for my roommate I would barely interact with anyone this side of a computer screen. Regardless, I had more important things to deal with than realizing I was being a bitch; A bread sandwich, it turns out, is garbage sustenance.

Determined to not let the day's events beat me again, I left some money on the counter and filled a sturdy plastic basket with various foodstuff.

With the sun at my back and a new spring in my admittedly awkward step, I began the trek home. I only tripped twice.

5.24 I'm Still Here

I awoke suddenly atop my lumpy couch to a sudden tightness in one of my legs. Due to an unfamiliarity with my new body, attempting to contract my leg to ease the tightness resulted in my rolling off the couch to the dirty carpet below.

Despite both the minor pain of the prior cramp and the short fall, I couldn't help but laugh at my situation, given I was incapacitated by a charlie horse.

I spent a day completely alone without a computer, I'm allowed a terrible joke or two.

Getting up on all fours, I stretched as well as I could, sighing happily at the few pops running along my back.

Despite yesterday's unusual fear, I'd have to say I was pretty okay with God turning me into a horse. Sure, everything we've made as a species somehow involved the use of fingers and I was at a severe disadvantage now, but there were a few upsides: I found that at distances my vision was thankfully unaffected. No more corrective lenses for me! I deduced from this one observation that he had probably fixed up all my various ails before deciding to take everyone and leave. Hell of a rapture this was turning out to be.

After a half-hour of my usual morning routine, I decided to try my hand...er, hoof, at cooking a more complex meal, as the night prior I only cooked a simple spaghetti dinner. Boiling water and adding oil is simple enough that hooves weren't too much of an obstacle. I decided that my first real breakfast as a horse should be one of champions: the standard bacon and eggs. Simple and delicious.

None of that was simple and at least half of the meal was arguably the worst thing I'd ever eaten.

Never mind that there were several shell fragments in the egg, the bacon was the kicker. It gave off warning signs whilst cooking, reeking of death and grease, but I powered through the stench and was rewarded with....well, the previous apartment tenant had left their old fridge full of stuff before they moved out, and I moved in a good two months after that. The bacon tasted exactly like THAT smelled.

A quick check of other foods forced me to face a reality I never considered: big-eyed horses shouldn't eat meat.

I washed the tears from my eyes and the bile from my face. My hopeful mood was destroyed. That sadistic jerk, I thought. Probably observed our twisted obsession for butchering other life on this planet, and turned it around to sate His cruel humor. Bastard.

Despite the tragedies faced thus far, I knew I would have to continue onward, deciding to actually investigate the assumption that I was the city's lone inhabitant.

After a brief struggle with my keys (try starting your car without hands, its really hard!), my dinky old Ranger coughed to life. Given that I was about as tall as a newborn Clydesdale, was just able to reach the pedals. My backwards bending legs would have some trouble maneuvering  to actually work them like I was accustomed to, but so long as I kept a level head and low speed I figured I should be able to drive about as well as the typical Californian.

Like all good plans, it did not survive first contact with the real world; driving out of the apartment's parking lot and observing absolutely zero traffic as far as the street went, I had to push my truck to its admittedly low limit. Predisposed to lowered speeds in the city, 70 miles-per-hour was quite exhilarating. Figuring that running around shouting for others was for chumps, I settled on attempting donuts in parking lots and honking the horn a bunch of times. I rolled down my windows and turned the stereo's volume as high as it could go, playing some trashy band I used to like back in high school.

If there were any others in the city, they'd likely find me just to shut me up, and I got to have some fun. Its a brilliant plan.

One poor decision later, I now know that electronics store facades aren't Ranger-proof. I can move on with my life, forever better with this knowledge.

I split my lip on the steering wheel, and I'm pretty sure there's some wicked nasty bruising underneath this fur coat, but I didn't die so thats a plus.

I guess I bled enough speed before the crash to ensure that the airbags didn't deploy, and I was able to back the truck out park it as intended on the street.

"Or maybe this old piece of crap is just a deathtrap," I mused aloud to nobody.

As I climbed out of the truck, a pale service dog (if its adorable blue vest and SERVICE DOG|DO NOT PET patch were anything to go by) slowly approached from a building adjacent to the wrecked store. It paused on the sidewalk, looking from me to the shattered glass that used to make up the window. Shaking its head, it faced me again and started barking, and turned back towards where it came. Looking over its shoulder, it kept barking at me and continued a few steps onward.

Noticing I hadn't moved from where I stood, it began whining with a paw raised, ears splayed to the side.

Rolling my eyes and sighing, I began to follow the dog. At my movement it bounded down the street to a pretty sad looking apartment building. Leaving me in the dust, it ran in the open entrance, comically peeking its head out seconds later to observe my progress. Unsatisfied, it began barking again. Eager at the prospect of meeting another horse-person, I quickened my pace as well as I could.

The animal led me to its home; the apartment was small but homey. Pictures lined the entire room, depicting a smiling older woman and her children at different points in their lives. Pressing on, I followed the dog to a small room, finding it whimpering by an empty bed. Disappointment.

"Well that sucks," I thought aloud. The dog's ears swiveled in my direction, though it remained planted by the bedside. "At least they did, in fact, leave behind other life. Little victories I guess."

There was nothing more I could do there, so I just returned my truck and pressed onward.

It was a good hour after I left the apartment that I realized I should have searched the pantries for supplies. I don't know how long it will be until people come back (people don't just disappear for no good reason, they had to be coming back) but until they do all bets are off.

Wait a minute....

With a new goal in mind, I set off towards towards a bank. There is no room for shame in this car, and I threw out decency when I hit that window. Besides, who else has wanted to rob a bank? Now its as easy as walking in!

It was less walking in and more 'kick a glass door in, run off in panic at the alarm, realize I'm an idiot and press on, try and get behind the tellers' desk, and remember that bulletproof glass is a thing that exists'.  Those pesky bandit barriers didn't deploy, but without an axe or key, I wasn't getting in.

So my big heist turned into me taking all the coins from a courtyard fountain outside the bank. A payday is a payday no matter how small, or at least that's the lie I'll tell myself.

In all my splashing and grumbling, I didn't realize I wasn't alone until I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Startled, I bolted upright and promptly tripped, completely falling in the chilly water.

Dripping dirty fountain water, I turned towards the intruder. A bubblegum pink horse significantly smaller than I was standing by the fountain's edge, gazing at me with a raised eyebrow. A utility belt was hanging loosely on its frame; among the various pouches were a pistol in its holster and a glistening golden badge clipped off the side. Oh shit....

"Well, uh, hello there....officer," I began. First contact with another living being capable of communication, and its with a cop outside a bank I tried to rob.

"And here I was thinking I'm stuck in some crazy dream all by my lonesome; now I know I've gone mad," the little horse mumbled under its breath. "Just what the hell are you doing kicking windows and splashing around?"

"Uh, well you see, I wanted to make a withdrawal, and the bank was closed," I answered, motioning towards the bank. Idiot, don't play dumb with the horse cop! "Um, why are you so...colorful? And small? Are you like, twelve or something?"

I grinned and looked down towards his glaring face, finally taking note of a strange appendage. A strange glowing appendage.

"Hey, dude, why's your face glowing? And whats with the-"

Life is just a series of head trauma following poor decisions.

I came to my senses out of the pool to a throbbing head and the struggling grunts of the officer; he was attempting to place me into the back seat of his cruiser, but the difference in size and hooves in general complicated things.

"Finally up, that's good; Listen, I don't want to deal with any more shit than I have to, would you mind getting in the damn car?" He leaned against the driver door, panting lightly. We were a good fifty feet from the fountain. I was both impressed and insulted; I'm not that heavy.

"How, ugh...how did you do that?" I asked, wincing. The world seemed to spin slightly, and my head was absolutely killing me. "Did I just get tazed?"

The officer horse grinned, and his weird horn began to glow once more. A short baton was floating in midair, surrounded by the same pale glow.  "Look, kid, I don't get it either, but we need to get back to the station. Are you gonna' get in the car or am I going to have to hit you again?"

Slowly rising to my full height, I looked around and spotted my truck across the street.

"Not that I don't trust your driving skills," I began, "but I think I'd rather follow along in my own truck, thanks." He shrugged, and holstered the baton onto his belt, closed the door, and climbed into his cruiser. Even with the seat as far forward as it was, he was quite a ways away from reaching the pedals, though once the glow returned and the car roared to life I realized he was using that weird telekinesis to control the car. Cheating bastard. I guess it was okay, since he was so small and cute and everything.

Our two vehicles made the trek onward, one of them driving more erratically than the other. I don't care if he beaned me five minutes prior, a police escort in a deserted city is a green light for recklessness.

We arrived at what had to be the most un-intimidating police station I'd seen.

The large, blocky structure was flanked by taller office buildings and wimpy trees. Walking inside, I could have easily confused it for just another office building. A German Shepherd came bounding towards us as we entered; the dog, almost as tall as the officer himself, began an erratic display of happiness as only a dog can.

"Hey, hey there Max, I told you I'd be back." It was the first genuine smile I'd seen on the little pink horse, and it proved infectious. I don't even like dogs, but watching him reunited with the animal was downright adorable. I took a step towards them and the mood was soured with the usual dog greeting of growling and barks. Dogs suck. Ignoring the dog to the best of my ability, I had to ask about his apparent urgency to get here.

"Okay, so did you just drag me down here to get barked at or what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Looking past this pink as hell horse crap, I woke up yesterday and found a city of almost two hundred-thousand people empty. Did you even try checking your twitters and myspaces? Nobody's there.  I figured that any other people remaining would want to stick together." Meeting my gaze, he continued. "Did you stop and consider what this implies though? The entire grids gonna go sooner rather than later. Its already been a day, and while the lights are still buzzin', they might not be for much longer. Now, the station's on its own separate grid, and when that goes we've still got a diesel generator in the basement."

"Oh, well, thanks then. I guess," I honestly hadn't thought that this whole crazy scenario might extend beyond the weekend. "So what, we just chill here in this fortress and ride out the happening? Pretty cool plan, I guess, mister....?"

"Sam. Just....just call me Sam. And no, we most certainly will not just 'chill out' and do nothing. As a matter o' fact, I brought you here because I need help. If we want to find others, we've got to think ahead. That means food, medical supplies, beds. We've got some of that, but honestly I don't know what to expect, or how long we have to hold out for.  Might as well be prepared for anything."

"Is there a point to this or..."

"Dammit, I just said we only have basic provisions to last us a short while at best, and while I'd love to go out and get us situated, I've got to figure out how to use that damn radio and get a message out that we're here. It was only a stroke of luck that the bank's alarm was set off, letting me know that there was someone else with me. How many other knuckleheads do you think might be out there, thinking they're all alone? The more we get together, and the sooner we get it done, the better off we'll be. So, how about it? Think you can do that?"

The rattling of crappy cart wheels echoed throughout the massive hardware store. Seeking to make the most of my trip, I tied four carts together with rope (from the rope aisle!) and simply roamed the aisles, dropping in whatever caught my eye. To be completely honest, I had absolutely no idea  what we would need.

The first cart was full of hand and power tools, and replacement blades. B-Cart was full of the chargers and batteries for the power tools, and as many extension cords and splitters as I could fit. Worst Cart had the fewest number of items but weighed the most; a portable generator, a bunch of car batteries, and a few jumper cables. The last cart was full of several varieties of duct-tape, all sorts of electrical wire, several cans of spray-paint, and that handy universal nozzle spray-gun attachment so I could actually work the cans. And rope. From the rope aisle.

"Because 'you don’t fuckin’ know what you’re gonna need it for. You just always need it.'" I gleefully shouted in my best McMarbus accent. Honestly, I'm glad nobody was around to hear it.

I certainly would not have been able to move this stupid train as a human, but I guess horses are pretty good at pulling things; who knew? The hardest part was tying the knots, and the next hardest was maneuvering the carts around corners, but I was still done in less than an hour.

I loaded it all into the bed of my truck, and went back for a bunch of those metal 5-gallon gascans, and a garden hose. Just in case. I'd noticed a slight sagging of the car before, but with it fully loaded I was able to appreciate just how low the truck sank. Not much I could do about that now.

I was halfway through the diesel cans (I had an even split of 4 gas 4 diesel) when I noticed a the streetlights nearby flickering. Lights that were on in adjacent buildings would suddenly shut off, unlike any regular blackout I'd experienced. Tauntingly they flickered, rushing me with an unbeatable deadline.

Fuck what I said about the hose, when the pump dies I'm getting the hell out of- With an ominous crack, everything shut off.

I thought I had dealt with the city's silence before, but it paled in comparison to just how deathly silent it was now. There was something off about it this time.

The silence was heavier, you know?

Thicker.

Without even the soft buzzing streetlamps to accompany my presence, I could hear my own heart beating in my ears; a soft squish punctuating each pulse. What went beyond the silence and darkness, however, was the emptiness.

Not my solitude, but...well, it was odd. Aside from the whole horse thing (and the mild concussion, I suppose), I hadn't felt any different while the grid was still up, but with its leave I felt as if a part of myself had gone with it, carried off by some imaginary breeze.

I don't know how long I spent sitting in the darkness, and I don't know when I finally started driving 'home'; hell, I don't even know how long I had been driving for.

All I remember is that I left the truck full of supplies parked outside the police station. I ignored Sam's questioning and his damn dog's incessant barking.

By some miracle I found my way to a small sofa in a fancy looking office room.

I was asleep before my head met the sofa's armrest.

//Space//

Night falls and it is pitch black in the room.

I don't like this house at night.

I know that I am not alone, and the TV flicks on with a bang. Grating static greets my ears.

A radio also springs to life, wailing similarly. I am not bothered by either. I scratch one hand with the other.

I am not a horse in here.

I feel happy, and a voice breaks through the radio's static.

"-ink that did it; you should be able to he-"

The figure outside flickered erratically on the screen, and as I turned to look towards it I was once again a horse.

She screams alongside a burst of static, before it is quiet and dark once again in the room.

Everything lies still in the room.

I can't move.

I see movement outside the window.

I'm paranoid that I'm being tracked.

I cannot turn to look.

I am scared.

Homecoming

Follow the Sun.

I woke up with a start in my room.

Not in the lumpy bed of my shitty Pomona apartment, but the lumpy bed of my childhood room of my parent's shitty house.

I slowly turned my head to gaze across the room; turning my eyes in my head brought forth too much pain. As a matter of fact, everything hurt; every breath brought stabbing fire to my lungs, every turn agony to my sore muscles, and every twitch a hammer to my aching limbs. Life is just a series of....ugh, life is fucking terrible.

The blinds were closed over the windows, but it was clear that there was a good deal of light behind them. The old clock on the dresser had it's batteries die long before my arrival, so it wasn't of any use. With a heavy groan, I rolled off the bed to my hooves.

It was a mistake.

My limbs buckled under my weight, and I came crashing to the hardwood floor in a sad, painful heap. With more groans, a few swears, and a long sigh, I resigned to just lay there until everything sucked less.

<***>

I slowly opened my eyes, becoming aware of the world of pain I was in. Again. But things did indeed suck less, and I found that, given time, I could slowly rise to my hooves.

The red rays of the setting sun shone through the window's open blinds, and I could see myself in the large mirror that acted as the door to my old closet.

My fur coat was matted down and filthy with sweat and grime; the longer hair in my 'wrists' was horrible tangled and almost black with all the accumulated filth. My hooves were a nightmare, cracked and worn down, with the strange looking flesh in the protected hollow being raw and bloody. Both my mane and tail were a greasy, knotted mess. Worst of all were my eyes, angry red veins snaking throughout each massive orb.

God, I look like shit....

I watched the pitiful creature in the mirror slowly blink its eyes, before turning away from it.

Despite my protesting body and groaning stomach, I was in desperate need of a shower.

<^*^>

I had to bathe in a tank we'd kept outside; my father used to keep water in said tank so we could generally keep a green lawn despite water restrictions in times of drought (which is to say, all the time). While I certainly wouldn't drink it, it was clean enough to suit my needs; after falling into the large tub, only the groaning of pipes accompanied the manipulation of shower handles. It stands to reason that with the vanishing of power, water utility should follow.

Whatever...

With my neck resting on the side of the tank and my hooves actually reaching the bottom, I wasn't in too much danger of drowning should I nod off, so I closed my eyes and just rested.

Of course, I expected that my father wouldn't be exempt from whatever took everyone, but I think deep down I wanted that to be wrong. I wanted to find him sleeping in his room, like usual, but the world doesn't care what you want; the house was empty, and everything was in its place. Well, almost everything, as the door had been kicked open, but I assumed that might have been me.

As the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, it took with it some of my pain and soreness. I figured running from Oceanside to Whittier would have killed me as a person, but I guess horses have more endurance than we do. Still, I was still sore as hell, and needed to rest, so I grudgingly rolled out of the tank. Entering the house, I went about lighting all the candles my mom used to keep. She never lit them, she just loved having them around to make the house look a little less dreary, and my dad never took them down after she'd passed. There was no way I'd have the dexterity to handle matches or the zippo we'd kept in a kitchen drawer, so I'd grabbed a beat up old torch from my dad's equally beat up old truck.

It was pretty cool, the weak candles provided a ton of illumination compared to the darkness surrounding the house. A shining beacon of survival in yet another dead city.

Whatever. I popped open a can of peaches, and munched on some really stale fruit cereal ('Confruity crisp'. Yum.). I didn't bother heading back into my old room; many a night was spent on the couch, and I just didn't want to face that sad horse in the mirror again.

I woke up gasping. I still felt tired, but everything was bright. And, oddly warm. Hot even. With a few swift blinks, I knew something was wrong.

And there it was.

That sick, familiar plunge in my gut. That old, old sinking feeling. The weight of colossal fucking failure pressing down on me. Flames crackled mockingly. The candles. Stupid me needed to leave those *fucking** candles on.*

I rolled off the couch, and sank to the ground. Thick black smoke did little to cover the angry fury consuming my shelter. With a sick crack, the ceiling leading to the hallway buckled, flaming debris raining down.

I turned and ran.

Recalling that I had walked the entire fucking distance here, I hastily grabbed my dad's keys from their perch in a bowl by the door. Running outside, I was greeted by the cool night air, and relatively fresh air.

I collapsed outside, gasping and hacking at the end of the driveway. As more cracks followed, the flames grew, engulfing the entire house. My house.  Home.

Gone forever.

I fell to my ass and cried.

Gone forever and its all my fault.

I cried angry tears, cursing God for taking everyone, that weird plane for being weird, Sam for being a cunt and above all, myself.

I cursed myself for being left behind. For leaving the only other leads to survival behind with those eerie fucking planes. For trying to make sense of the senseless. For not thinking ahead. For thinking I could think ahead. After everything I've been through, I'm an idiot for pretending otherwise.

You can't fight fate; it'll fight you, and beat you. And keep beating you down, until you accept that you can't win against the world.

-<>-

Eventually, the fire began to spread. With irate roars it grew and grew, reaching sickly trees and neighboring houses.

Everything once pointing to the existence of me was gone, ash and soot to be scattered in the winds. Forgotten and lost with the rest of Humankind.

I was dead, and my body didn't know it yet.

With the ghost of tears in my eyes and a ferocious blaze in my rear mirror, I drove away, towards the first orange glances of the rising sun.

I smile back and shake my head. I never liked that house at night.

Repeat Offender

I left the city of smoke behind, and, with the dawn of a new day, drove back towards my home.

Funny word that. Home. No more fitting word available for an appropriated police station during the end of the world. Regardless, I was back. Fucking *home***.

As I went to park my dad's truck, I noticed that the massive glass window had been smashed. We didn't even lock the door when we left.

Walking in cautiously, two things were obvious: the dog was gone, and a majority of our stuff was gone. Well, many of the tools were left, but what was unloaded had obviously been messed with, and much of the provisions Sam had acquired were missing. What kind of asshole takes other people's stuff and leaves? Further investigation led to the revelation that someone had completely raided the armory. Weapon racks and armor lockers were smashed open and completely bare. Evidently, whoever was here intended to make the most of the apocalypse.

Undaunted, I went looking for the radio Sam had set up when the building lights flickered and died. Just my luck.

With a shake of my head and a soft chuckle, I turned tail and left. No point in staying here. With zero plans in mind, I reentered my truck and drove away.

***

I had this feeling that I was cursed; everything I would do was bound to end in disaster. I ought to try and enjoy regardless.

"Fang it! Fang it!" cried a pale man from the back of a wicked looking car.

I had been driving to another hardware store with only the sound of the engine keeping me company; my father listened to sports radio, but given the disappearance of Colin Cowherd, there was nothing to listen to.

The apocalypse, as it turns out, is a pretty boring place.

I remember friends jokingly mentioning that they couldn't wait for a zombie apocalypse for various reasons, one being that they could hook up a game system (or porn) to a movie projector. While I couldn't manage video games with these cracked hooves, I could probably get the projector running, so I appropriated a generator and found a small movie theater.

I only had power running to the projector room, and not the entire theater. So sound was out, but I set up some portable speakers I'd found on display at a Best Buy, and hooked it all up to cables running to the generator I'd placed outside. I may not be bright, but even I know that gas emissions kill (but mostly, generators are loud).

With a bit of toying around, I managed to start the computer and get the projector running, and was enjoying that reboot of the old 80's movie franchise for the third time today. It was pretty good

"I am the man, who grabs the Sun...riding to Valhalla!" My voice joined Nux's in the small theater. While the haggard man turned to address Bane, I fumbled around in my seat; I was going to do it right this time.

Raising the can to my mouth in time with the movie, I sprayed whipped cream amongst a fit of laughter. I was certainly glad there was nobody around to witness my display, but it was loads of fun regardless.

***

I had reached the bog scene with the Crows when I was racked by a churning sensation in my gut. Seems a diet of theater snack-foods and lukewarm soda was a mistake, and I'd found myself vacating my stomach contents in the nearest bathroom. Its funny, people have been gone for some time now, and the men's room still has piss on the floor. And I don't have shoes...

I hadn't clothed myself since waking up nude yesterday, and decided that even though I felt strangely okay with this nude thing, I should at least find some method of preventing the erosion of my hooves.

I'd been driving for almost two hours, lost. I thought I knew this city well enough, but I guess I relied on my phone's navigation apps a heck of a lot more than I thought.

I finally caught sight of a Big 5, and pulled into a parking space. Old habits and all.

Given the way things were going, and all shops encountered thus far, I had actually expected the shop to be open. It wasn't; the bandit cage was shut and locked. Okay, now the world is *encouraging** this...*

With a cry of  'Witness!', a hearty laugh, and the screeching of tires, I bypassed the metal gate by way of '04 Silverado.

X<

I shook myself alert from my stupor to the deflating of the airbag, and a high-pitched hissing; I only cleared the entrance and didn't strike any counters, yet there was white smoke coming out of the engine bay. Like a rock, yeah right...

Climbing out of the wrecked pickup, I made my way to the rear wall, where various styles of footwear were displayed. I settled on some zip-up patrol boots I'd seen, trying to get a matching set.  Eh, a bunch of black boots, they all look similar enough.

Figuring I couldn't wear them without modification, I tried carrying the boxes on my back without success. Sheepishly, I went to the camping area and found a backpack completely covered in MOLLE webbing. I'd always seen a hand-full of these on campus, and thought they looked ridiculous; now that I didn't have to pay the whopping $150, I thought it looked pretty cool. With a grin, pulled it off the rack, alongside a paintball vest with similar webbing. I'll look cool. Tacti-cool.

Looking in an angled mirror back in the shoe area, I realized I looked goofy as hell in that vest. But it was pretty cute, so I wore it anyway. I loaded up the boots in the backpack, snagged a few boxes of protein bars from the register near the front, and began searching for a new vehicle.

-====-

Walking absolutely sucks. Even with the missing population, you have to be pretty aware of your surroundings while driving. When walking, there are absolutely no distractions, and you get to thinking. It starts with simple things, like walking sucks, then it glances over to the ever-present boredom, and then the mind-numbing silence that comes with being the last motherfucker walking the streets. The end of the world is a lonely place. Who knew?

I must have passed dozens of parked cars, but didn't care to investigate the whereabouts of their keys, or just didn't want to face the unknown in a ricer. I still have standards, even if they're hilariously low.

The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, my search proved fruitless, and I was getting tired. I spotted a Walgreens pharmacy a block away, and made my way inside. I always questioned their decision to sell camping equipment, but I wasn't going to complain now. I had set up a few sleeping bags as a bed liner and put some fleece children's blankets on top for comfort. For fun, I tried hanging a tent canvas between the aisles, but only succeeded in knocking a bunch of stuff off the shelves.

I set my bag down by the edge of my little nest, downed some vaguely grape flavored cough medicine, and waited for sleep.

//Darkhorse//

Do you know what the nature of a hero is?

Four grey walls boxed me in. The room was dim and warm.

Welcoming.

Outside was not the familiar inky nightscape I was accustomed to, but an ever-changing field of glistening stars.

They danced and twinkled, shining light upon empty worlds unimaginable distances away.

Seems their display was wasted on dead eyes tonight.

"That is not a mindset one such as yourself should hold."

I leapt into the air, startled at the revelation that I wasn't alone. I searched the room for the speaker, but was only greeted by a soft chuckle.

"You were a difficult case. I have conversed with thousands of your kind with little difficulty, but you consistently proved to be, ah, a challenge."

Thousands of my...was the lady space voice a dyslexia counselor?

"Maybe it was not the state of mind, but the quality preventing my access...."

I get the feeling that I should feel a little insulted by that remark...Wait, prevent access to what?

"Your dreams. We are currently communicating through one of your dreams. Though this is not the first night I have attempted communication, it is, thus far, the most successful."

Communicating...th-

"Through dreams, yes. You see, I am a Princess of Equestria, the Lunar diarch and Ruler of the Night. In accordance with this responsibility, I am the guardian of dreams."

Diarch? The hell's an Equestria?

"That is unimportant; it is clear that you have questions. You are troubled by past events, and are attempting to convince yourself that you are okay with them. I am here to tell you, as with the many others I have encountered, that you are not alone, and everything is going to be fine."

Kinda ominous. What's your game, space lady? What the hell is going on?

"We do not have much time, as you will awaken soon. All I that I ask of you is you seek out other survivors. It is not healthy for your kind to live life alone...and, Elliott?"

How do you know-

"Call me Luna"

The Progress of Man//ITURADASTRA//

I awoke with blueberries on my mind and the taste of 'grape' cough syrup tainting my tongue. Blegh.

I groggily rose to my hooves, attempting some stretches as best as a horse could. Satisfied and refreshed, I searched the aisles for a suitable breakfast. Granola and water had to do; I had my fill and snagged a few of each in my pack for later.

Figuring I might as well search the whole store for helpful items (or just cool shit I never thought about buying) I made my way through the aisles. Its ridiculous what is being sold at a pharmacy these days; I had gathered a bunch of snacks, several sizes and styles of flashlights, two multitool, various packs of assorted tools and knives, a pair of those wacky looking nightvision sunglasses, a 25-foot spool of friggen rope, two large bottles of honey flavored whiskey, and a, uh, 'personal massager'. To work out any kinks or soreness I said to myself, totally believing it.

I wanted to investigate behind the actual pharmacy counter, but the heavy door was locked and there was a window in place. Undeterred, I simply grabbed a screwdriver and a rubber mallet from the tool section. Ridiculous. It took quite some time and persuasion to open the door, but I soon enough found myself staring down the thousands of potentially deadly goodies. I searched for what I knew, which was pretty limited given the selection available, but settled on an admittedly absurd amount of ambien, norco, and a few epipens. For science. Totally.

Pack practically bursting at the seams, I was ready to begin the day.

Taking all that stupid shit was a bad idea.

This backpack would have been fine enough to lug around as a human, but as a horse? It was a downright nightmare.

I had to tie a shoelace around the glasses to keep them on my face (an act that took an hour itself, tying knots without fingers is hilariously frustrating), but wasn't able to easily loop two limbs through the backpack's straps, so I simply had it around one and let it sit precariously on my back. Needless to say, it slipped often.

Thankfully, I spotted another Home Depot in the distance; it seems like Ive been to a new H-D each day, and, for the most part, haven't had to leave the city. This country is unbelievable sometimes.

The wide door was, of course, locked, but it's glass stood no chance against my rear hooves, even if the act kicking it was awkward and performed messily.

I left my pack by one of the counters, and fished the four boots out of it. After some wandering, I'd gathered what I needed.

Clumsily slipping long rubber gloves over my hooves (which was a struggle, but looked hilarious), I slid a hoof into each boot and taped the collar taught. Lifting the hoof, the boot more or less stayed in place. Progress. I repeated the process for each hoof, and eventually had 4 taped boots. Figuring that walking in them would be clumsy as all hell, I brought a knife over and started cutting; everything from the arch forward was discarded, though the reinforced sole took some time.

I placed a hoof back into a cut boot, and used expanding foam to fill the crevices. When the foam filled everything and started billowing out the front, I taped the hell out of it. After a lengthy half-hour, I had a god-awful looking set of horse boots. If it looks stupid, but it works....

I wouldn't be able to run in them, and bending my new appendages to grab things like I'd been accustomed to was impeded by the boot, but I wouldn't be in danger wearing my hooves to the nub.

Not that it would matter too much, because I smashed open the rental kiosk and took the keys for one of the pickup trucks being offered outside.

I loaded my kit, some tools, a barrel-pump, and a garden hose into the bed of the truck before heading off towards parts unknown.

I spent the better part on an hour simply driving down the freeway, looking down for something fun to do, before I saw the familiar red oval signalling a Sam Ash. With a hard right turn, I exited the freeway and gunned it to the store.

Pieces were falling into place, but I would need more....

***

The sun was hanging low, painting the sky with violent reds before fading to black. Hours of preparation were all coming down to this.

I had spent ages driving back and forth, gathering pieces from all across town. From the music store there were the massive amps, now bolted in place in the glistening silver bed of the rental truck. A return to the Home Depot gave me a black steel cage, which was welded sloppily around it, providing additional support and a mount for generators to be held; no sense in being unable to play sound.

A series of cables and wires snaked through the cage, leading to a very complicated (and heavy, might I add) turntable setup. If Guetta taught me anything, its that you can set it and forget it.

Welded to the roof of the car was a series of floodlights, with various colored lenses taped in front of each bulb.

The entire truck was repainted silver, with very shoddy flames running the length of the crew-cab. CUDDLE SHUTTLE was written in my best block lettering on the hood, in a neon blue and violet fade.

Below a massive downhill slope lay a massive empty car carrier, ramp lowered and perpendicular to two additional trucks. One truck was simply a large rental truck filled to the brim with wood pallets, gasoline, and paper from an office supply store. Hitched to the other was a carefully emptied silver tank trailer.

Well, mostly empty. A trail of gasoline and powder led from its position all the way up the hill, in a pool sitting to the side of my car.

Soon...

I didn't have to wait long for the last ray of light to vanish behind some distant hills, I started the generators. The floodlights kicked on with a harsh click, and I went to turn each of the amplifiers on. Even above the harsh noise of the generators, I could hear the buzzing speakers, all dials set to 10.

I carefully lit a roadflare and tossed it into the flammable pile, starting the reaction. I climbed into the cab of the truck, and started the music. Closing the door and buckling up, I put the vehicle in neutral, and waited with a hoof on the brake pedal.

"Tonight..."

The fire continued slowly but surely down the hill. It had reached about halfway when I took my hoof off the brake. The truck began rolling down the hill, and quickly began to pick up speed.

Feeling the fire had a decent enough head start, and in time with the swell of obnoxiously loud music, I shifted into drive and stomped on the gas pedal.

With a bright flash and a tremendous thunder, the fuel tanker exploded, spraying globs of flaming oil throughout the intersection below me. I was unable to see if the blaze ignited the other truck, but given the front of my ramp was now engulfed in flames, I was pretty sure I was covered. I readied an epipen from my bag, gripping the wheel with one hoof and the other wrapped around the slim injector.

With a hearty laugh, I gave it my all, jabbing the tube to my thigh and slammed the pedal down; with one last burst of acceleration, I hit the lowered ramp with a thud.

Time slowed down, and I lurched skyward in a slow arc. My ears twitched at every sound; from the roaring engine to the crackling flames below, everything was clear.

My supercharged heart bounded with life, threatening to burst free and escape its calcium prison, and it honestly felt great.

For arguably the first time in my life, I felt alive.

God bless the end of the world.

Reaching the apex of my arc, I entered the blazing column of choking black smoke. Uncaring of the hazards associated with breathing in the toxic fumes, I inhaled, greedily gulping down the smokey air.

As soon as it had started, it was over. I'd left the black cloud, still encased in a sweltering heat.

My grin faltered as I remembered that gravity exists

I hit the ground with a massive crunch.

The truck bounced, lurching to the side and continuing on towards a wall along the street.

I slammed on a pedal to no avail, tried to brace myself and-

"So don't stop..."

---------------/---------------\---------------///---------------||||---------------\---------------//------------------------------

With a jump, I raised my head and opened my eyes.

It was pitch black, and, aside from a warmth running down my face, I was freezing.

It seems there is definitely no logic to human behavior.

Warmth soon returned to my hooves, and I was made aware of just how much pain I was in.

Although, much could be said about your kind's tenacity. Maybe this is something we can learn from you.

My chest burned, each breath a struggle against an intense crushing pain.

I tried to speak, succeeding in only coughing, heralding another wave of agony.

Perhaps without such reckless disregard for safety; all this pain in the name of 'fun'

The vise working its will against my chest lessened its grip; little good it did.

I lay in the dark, choking on my own life in a burning, crumpled mess.

"Our time is running short; I don't want to see you make the same mistakes I've made. Try as you might, you cannot, nay, you will not survive on your own. Seek out the others of your kind."

The warmth receded, and the voice grew distant.

"Follow the Sunrise towards the Gates of Ever After."

The ghostly voice echoed softly in the room, and I struggled to catch my breath.

With a monumental effort, I voiced the one word on my mind.

"What?"

A boiling pain rages in my brain. Magma runs from my wounds, and I am racked with spasms as an unseen inferno rages across my body.

God bless the end of the world.

---------------/---------------\---------------///---------------||||---------------\---------------//------------------------------

Ascend

I was cold.

I know we Californians complain a lot when the temperature drops below 70 degrees, but even in the warm night I was freezing.

The soft rhythmic thumping in my chest was a constant reminder of just how lucky I was after a stunt like that.

I bet that looked hella sick though.

A soft chuckle turned into a sickly hacking, sending wave after wave of stabbing pain through my chest.

For the moment, I was content to just sit back in my seat, head hanging limp on the door panel.

The biting cold grew softer, and I sighed happily.

"You know how they say you see a light before you die?"

I could feel the world around me spinning wildly.

"They're wrong. I didn't see a fuckin' thing..."

I snapped an eye open, and promptly threw up.

What the hell am I doing? Glancing around, I took stock of my situation.

One eye was swollen shut, and my face was throbbing in pain. My lower legs were sore and throbbing as well, and I felt a deep chill coming from my right fore-leg...hoof...thing. Also, I was covered in my own sick.

The truck was listing to the left, and the roof had rumpled slightly downward. The windshield was cracked, webs of destruction gathering towards a focal point directly above the steering wheel. Only one of the roof lights was on, bathing the wall in front of me a deep, dark blue. Over the struggling thumps of a single working generator, I could hear the blaze of the tanker raging in the intersection behind me. Inside the cab, however, I couldn't see jack shit.

I leaned over to the side, trying to reach my bag from the floor below the passenger seat. I braced my left hoof on the dashboard, and was greeted by searing pain. Lights flashed in my vision, and I screamed. I blinked the tears away, and brought the limb up to my face; midway down my leg the hoof simply hung down at an unnatural angle. Great.

I slowly and painfully retrieved the heavy bag from the floor, and tried digging through it in the dark. After a few frantic seconds of searching, I found another short road-flare.

With the cap in my mouth, I twisted the red stick and pulled, a light pop filling the cab with a wavering red glow.

The cab itself was in pretty decent shape, but the driver side door was askew in its frame. A glance revealed a dark shadow on the rubber floor liner below me. A touch with a hoof felt wet.

I had to get out of the car.

I scrambled at the door latch, but despite my fumbling efforts the door would not budge. In a panic, I tried kicking at the door, but only succeeded in bringing myself even more pain.

With tears tears down my face, I tried the window. The laminated glass surprisingly gave in with only a kick or two. I flung first the flare, then my pack through the frame, and crawled through. The jagged shards scraped lightly with my passage, but the cool air of freedom was well worth the pain.

Unfortunately, halfway through the hole, I slid down the door, and landed on my wobbly limb with a sickening snap. A solid wall of white flashed in my good eye before disappearing in an instant; Blazing tendrils of pain ran through my leg, and I howled out into the night.

My weak cries eventually died into even weaker coughs, and I slowly pulled myself with a hoof away from the smoking wreck. Before long, I reached the curb and rolled off it into the street. My vision blurred with each weak pull, and I only managed to get myself halfway across the street before everything finally went black.

I slowly awoke to the foul mixture of piss, sick, and gasoline in the air. I was also laying in the middle of the road. I lifted my head to survey my surroundings, and found I could only open my right eye. Regardless, my monocular vision showed me that the Cuddle Shuttle would never drive again, and that I was lucky to be alive. Some time during the night, a lamp-post I'd skirted collapsed, crushing the roof underneath it. Driver's side.... Lucky, lucky, lucky.

I didn't feel lucky. Everything was numb, and yet there was this all-encompassing pain throughout my body.

I checked my hoof, expecting various bones protruding from the skin, but was lucky in that regard as well. I was hopeful that I would only have to deal with a dislocated...hoof wrist thing...rather than a 'simple' fracture of the bone underneath, but the lack of equine/general medical knowledge left me at a disadvantage here. The site was swollen slightly, and in a lot of pain. If I can recall from past searches correctly, WebMD would have said it was definitely cancer.

Regardless, I would have to move sooner rather than later, at least so I could die painfully in a comfortable bed. With a few shots of liquid encouragement from my pack (that sweet, sweet *Tennessee Honey...) I went to bite the bullet. Setting my leg as straight as I could through the pain, I wrapped the *fuck out of it with duct tape. I fished one of the shorter boots I'd made and set it over the injured appendage.

It hurt like hell, and I was going to assume that walking on it would be impossible, but it'll keep it relatively straight while I sort myself out.

With several minutes of screaming, sweat, and tears, I finally hefted myself up onto my three good-ish legs. I slung the heavy pack onto my shoulders, and looked towards the intersection I'd cleared.

Small fires still raged across the burned out husks of the tanker truck, though for the most part it had died down. Thin wisps of white smoke danced into the early morning sky, a far cry from the thick black smoke the night before. Beyond that lay the massive hill I'd rolled down; somewhere on beyond lay the home depot I'd already looted.

I figured I could either try looking for another vehicle, or make my way to where there was surely another rental truck waiting.

A bird in the hand, I guess....

***

I hadn't even made it halfway up the damn hill, and already the sun was hanging clear in the sky. Sweat ran in fat drops from my body, sizzling on the boiling sidewalk below. I'd had to stop several times for a drink, my lone bottle of water dangerously low.

Hills suck.

***

The moon was beginning its proud ascent in the sky when I finally crested the fuckhuge mountain hill. Despite my entire everything crying in pain, I couldn't help but chuckle. I cheered. I'd done it. "Rocky ain't got shit on me!" I shouted to the world.

Without warning, the ground came forward to meet my face.

I couldn't complain.

Horse Tornado

Everything happens for a reason.

Following some bizarre trend since becoming a horse, I woke up before the sunrise. First prize seemed to come with feeling cold, tired, and hungry as hell. Wonder if Rocky felt *that*. I fished through my pack for something to eat.

The meal consisted of a bunch of crumbled granola bars and a few hydrocodone pills washed down with a couple shots of whiskey. It was a far cry from a revitalizing meal, and undeserving of the title 'breakfast', but, as the saying goes, you learn to make do with the dumb cards you've stolen from the pharmacy. I already miss those overpriced iced coffees. Those were the best.

Stifling a yawn with my bad hoof, I looked down the other side of the hill towards town. In the distance I could make out the empty parking lot which lead to the home depot. Downhill is always easier, but my stiff limbs ached at the prospect of more walking.

The journey of a thousand miles....

* * *

For the second time, I was rolling through the hardware store, train of carts trailing behind me noisily. I had zero goals in mind, so there were zero filters; if it looked cool it was dropped in the cart. I didn't even know what half of these things were for; 'better to have it' and all that...

After what felt like an hour of scavenging, I'd filled the three cart train and went to load it in the Cuddle Shuttle mk.II. I'd decided a more subtle coloring of 'red apple' gloss would help me perform better than the un-witnessed silver.

Setting off with no plans in mind generally ended in disaster, so I had two simple goals: get some better tasting supplies, and more of them, and maybe go see if anyone I know actually has made it.

It's been almost a week, I should probably not have simply assumed I'd have to get through the disappearance of mankind without knowing. I didn't have too many friends who weren't off across the country for Uni, but the few still here in SoCal I figured might have sought me out if they had been left behind. So, best case scenario, I find my friends camping out at their house, worse case scenario I get some of their cool shit. Win either way.

* * * * *

I'm glad I had taken to raiding pharmacies and hardware stores this entire time, because the interior of an actual grocery store was miserable. The produce on display had come a long way in the few days without power; without the climate control, they baked and decayed in the California heat, filling the entire store with a putrid odor.

With a gag and bile in my throat, I made quick work of the canned food aisle, and made a brief stop by the dry pastas. I finished my trip off with a bunch of spices, a few bottles of vegetable oil, and three incredibly heavy packs of bottled water. Who needs 36 bottles all at once? That's insane.

I brought my haul to the glistening red truck, and loaded it all in the bed. Using water from several bottles, I'd filled an orange bucket and began to wash myself as best I could. It wasn't very good, but my face didn't feel sticky and gross anymore, and the tepid water actually felt rather pleasant on my bad hoof.

I dumped the dirty water, tossed the bucket in the bed, and climbed into the truck.

* * *

There was a thick, smokey smell hanging in the air, evidence of my presence in the next town continuing to rage endlessly against empty homes.

I'd driven down to the Heights and searched for my friends. Contrary to what I'd thought back in the parking lot, I didn't actually feel up to stealing anything of theirs, aside from a few cans of assorted goods and a small bag of tortilla chips. I was upset that none of the relatively few people I knew made it with me to the Happening, but also relieved; had they been with me, they would have talked me out of a lot of fun. Speaking of fun...

With the search finished, and finally back in my old prowling grounds, I eagerly began looking for the right house. After some time I was successful, and parked outside. It was a home like many in the area; a cozy little two-story home overlooking a rather wide lawn. A few shrubs and a small tree lining the driveway, in which sat several luxury cars.

I needed to be good and senseless for this, so I drank what was left of my bottle of whiskey. I tried to slam down the next bottle, but didn't get very far along with that before being taken by a coughing fit. It, however, soon met the fate of its twin after a few minutes.

Letsdodis.

As usual, I had to kick the door in to gain access, but I was getting better at that. I entered, observing the various photos on the wall; the usual beaming faces at the camera, a few holiday gathering photos, and a few of a sole, lanky figure. I made my way to their room, observing all the various nick-knacks scattered about.

I raised absolute hell in that room

If it wasn't nailed down, it was thrown across the room or brought crashing to the floor. A laptop was flung into the flat-screen mounted on the wall. Kicking the door of its hinges, the destruction eventually extended to the rest of the house. My rear leg caught in a hole kicked through the plaster wall, but some wiggling saw its freedom, as well as further chaos. Hanging pictures were thrown across the room, glass panes and wood frames shattering upon impact.

Some time had passed, the mess grew, and I was left unsatisfied.

I grabbed some towels off a rack in the bathroom and made my way back to the truck. I shakily poured gas from the cans into the empty whiskey bottles, taking care not to get any on myself, but uncaring of the mess being poured into the street. Fitting strips from each towel down their respective necks, I soaked them too and set them alight.

With a grin, I flung one towards the house. It sailed through the air and bounced off a window, flame sputtering slightly as its contents slowly trickled out of the constricted opening.

I walked closer with the second burning bottle, and tried rearing up to toss it like I would a human. It slipped from my grasp, and shattered somewhere behind me on the cement path leading up to the house. Whoops. Eventually, I settled on just pouring the remaining fuel from the gascan over a couch and tossing a blowtorch on that. Same difference in the long run.

"Cheatin' bitch..."

With that, I staggered back to the truck, and slowly made my way...away. I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I couldn't find myself caring.

/ / / | | | \ \ \

(                     )

\ \ \ | | | / / /

I had been driving through the city aimlessly for a few hours. I could see the thick black smoke of a raging inferno peeking over a distant ridge and grinned; admittedly this was far from uncommon here in the dry desert of SoCal, and my friends and I often joked that we couldn't wait for a fire to finally reach far south enough that we could panic in its presence. Musings of a better time. Clearing a hill, the radio suddenly squawked to life. I guess it had been on, but with nothing transmitting until then.

"-epeating, this is Aine Vasuman, broadcasting to anyone that's listening." The woman on the radio was coming in through a harsh static, but there was a noticeable tremble to her voice. "I'm, ah, I'm in a ratty ol' camper in Hellman Park, up in Whittier. My husband and I were out...err, stargazin', last night, and when I woke up this morning he was gone, and I...well, uh...whats important is he's gone missing, and he had the keys. I tried my cell but, funnily enough, there's no signal. To anyone who can hear me, both roadways are blocked off by fire, and its closing in. God, I hope some o-"

I shut the radio off with a huff. I didn't have the heart to hear the rest of that message. Human population I've encountered could be counted on my hooves, and I've gone and abandoned one, and outright killed the other.

"Well, that fucking sucks," I remarked to nobody.

Given the roads up to the park were on the other side of the hill, it would have taken some time to even reach it, let alone find her caravan in the burning park.

Too much time. Er, not enough time?

I pulled over and sat in the car for a while, trying to make sense of the transmission regardless.

On the one hand, most everyone was gone. The only few I'd encountered thus far seem to have been those of us transformed and left behind. It wouldn't make sense for someone to be in a position of danger at my hands, unless they'd been camped out for...like a week, which was, admittedly, a likely enough scenario, but not for this area; the 'park' was really just a really big hill with some dirt roads where we didn't pave over and build houses.

On the other, missing time is a recurring theme among alleged alien abductees. If aliens were actually involved, they do have a track record of keeping people. I guess it would make some sense for them to just appear out of the blue and in a possible position of danger. So its possible that someone wasn't camped out for a week on a hill and unwilling to escape the oncoming flames, but was dropped in a position of peril by a bunch of douche-bag aliens.

Given I'd spent a week as a horse, that was plausible enough.

I drove forward, gazing up through the windshield to the darkening skies above. The blurred, shining stars twinkled in response.

//Revelations//You've Mistaken Me For Someone Else

There's a ringing in my ears as I come to. Immediately she begins.

"That was a despicable action. The actions of a fool. Of a coward."

Ohshi-

"We have been observing your kind for some time now, I have not seen such carelessness. Such selfishness. I have witnessed hundreds risk themselves to aid others this past week alone.

We? Observing? Hundr-

"WE ARE SPEAKING...No, I am aware that you did not intentionally destroy that city; you held no ill intentions, and, given the circumstances, could do little to combat the spawned blaze. This does not condone your inaction upon discovering another being in peril; said peril brought upon by your hoof."

There was nothing I could ha-

"And then to have started yet another blaze intentionally, in an inebriated act of st-"

Enough is ENOUGH, Lady! You think I don't know I fuck everything up?

The room shakes.

I don't know how you know everything thats happening, but I try to have some fun and eat shit for it all the time, but the candle thing was out of my hands

"Nevertheless, you could have-" Her voice is distant and muddy.

The hell do you mean you've been 'observing my kind', eh? And you said you've 'observed' hundreds of others?

She is silent for some time.

"Other survivors..."

She sounds...sad.

I...I could probably lay off a bit. Acting like a jerk to a voice in your head won't get anyone anywhere.

Okay, listen, Space Voice, I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot. You seem to know a bunch of everything going on with me, but I don't think that's fair. What are you, and what in the hell do you keep rambling about?

"It is strange, I have introduced myself to you once before, and even then was not the first time I had made contact... Your world, and its magic, is strange, to say the least..." She was rambling again. "I am not rambling! I am Princess Luna of Equestria, from a planet very distant from yours. Your original assumptions were, at least partially, correct, and an alien force did have a hoof in what happened ten days ago." She sounded clearer, less distant.

Equestria...Luna...I think that...I think I remember something...Ruler of the Night, was it?

"Indeed. Thought normally I have complete control over the Night and even the Dreamscape, it seems that your distance and unique brand of-"

Yeah, don't care about a voice in my head telling me I'm dreaming. When that voice seems to have answers, though...

"..." I'll admit she had the patience of a saint to put up with me.

"Quite. Regardless, you have asked me for the truth and so I give it to you willingly.There was... a great death threatening your world. Magic."

Magic.

"Yes, Magic. A great surge of it radiating from the heart at the very core of the Universe. For your kind, it may as well have been a wave of fire. Magic did not exist on your world as it did mine, and the pulse would have brought an end to all life on your planet.

We had first observed your kind several years ago, and first contact was officially established. It ended disastrously. Your kind wanted nothing to do with us, and we complied, in part. Shortly thereafter, we observed the Magic Pulse expanding towards your world, and knew of the extinction it would bring. We could not bear to sit idly by, and so a solution was sought. After many months of work, we had succeeded. A solution, survival guaranteed for you and your world.

Survival, however, came with a cost.

While the spell we had crafted was able to adapt life across your planet, you humans still resisted it. Rather, your bodies simply had no idea how to handle this magic, and would have ignored it completely. Therefore, we were forced to change your bodies to beings that could recognize the spell, and accept the Magic traveling steadily nearer. Given that we are only familiar with species of our own planet, we used those as a template."

The voice in my head was a talking horse alien.

"Pony, actually. And as the Magic reached you days ago, the spell activated, and nearly every human on your planet was transformed, bearing the bodies of our world."

So...why am I just a talking regular horse, and that cop was a little pink unicorn?

"The spell analyzed your character, your person, your soul...and from that, it assigned you to the body that you would be best suited for. Now, not everyone would be able to adapt to their new bodies without causing some trouble, so they would be held in the ætheral plane until there would be those to help them adapt. Perfect soul/body matches would be left behind to rebuild the world, and prepare for the arrival of your great populous.

We knew that, after the chaos of such a transformation, your society would implode. Your planet was much more heavily populated compared to ours, and your reliance on technology a hindrance; your kind could not survive without advanced technology. Had the spell simply transformed everyone, untold millions would be unable to cope, and would-”

Wait, no, this doesn't make sense. You took people away, and because there would be no-one tending to our infrastructure, it would collapse. Because of this collapse, millions would die, but thats because you *took people away who could have prevented it*.

"You insolent child! It is not that simple; in the Magic your technology would not have-"

Four walls blew away, revealing a sea of endless noise and snow beyond the cracked, worn floor.

That is to say, while they did indeed save your kind from extinction, they have doomed it to die as it was. While many will live on, Humanity as you knew it, aside from a few stragglers, has died.

"I can see your anger, your disgust in me. You deserve so much more; when I met your kind its beauty was pure and now it’s tainted by the love we gave, but-"

In one move, She has saved and doomed your kind. Such atrocities are generally coined 'Genocide', but I feel that 'Globicide' is more appropriate. Don't you?

"I apologize for my actions, but I do not ask for forgiveness; I know what I’ve done, and I have made peace with it. I don’t blame you for being angry, but you need to-"

So now everything has been left out in the open. They thought it was you they were protecting, but ended up destroying you with their 'kindness'. Mankind was once its own worst enemy, but in the wake of this revelation, you need to step back and ask yourself: Who killed the world?

------------------/---------------\---------------///---------------||||---------------\---------------//---------------------------------

/ / / | | | \ \ \

(         X          )

\ \ \ | | | / / /

---------------------------------//---------------\---------------||||---------------///---------------\---------------/------------------

I woke up crying in a ditch.

I couldn't remember how I got there, or even where 'there' was beyond a sandy, cold gutter.

My head threatened to split in half, and my eyes burned in my skull. So, clearly alcohol was involved.

"Ugh, never again...and I mean it this time..." preaching to the rocks beside the road, I almost felt as if they were doubting me. Stupid, judgmental rocks.

I groggily made it to my hooves, noticing I was missing a boot; in its place I had an empty bottle of vodka and a screwdriver, secured in place with several wraps of metallic duct-tape.

Evidently, I was more dexterous when drunk than sober, but I was unsure what the combination would have served; in addition, it left my booted bad hoof be the one I was supposed to walk on whilst sipping from the bottle. Stupid, drunk me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I looked around, and saw that I knew where I was. Off ahead of me, I could see where the two highway lanes branched off into a sprawling intersection. Palm Canyon....

Nearby was a squat sign, which would have normally displayed welcomes and an advertisement for the mountain tramway, but given the lack of power it was simply a black screen on a tan box. Rather, a cracked screen on a tan pile of rubble with the Cuddle-Shuttle crashed into it.

I made my way over to it, climbed in, and tried starting it.

It was difficult enough with that crap still taped to my hoof, but several fruitless attempts and a blinking light on the dashboard led me to the conclusion that I was out of gas.

Which means, damn, I got pretty far on what was in the tank.

I searched the trunk for the gascan before remembering I'd used it to commit arson. Totally worth it.

It then hit me that, drunk me tried this already. The bottle wasn't for sipping to get even more trashed, it was my inebriated attempt at a solution to the problem.

With a laugh (and some tears) I tore the tape off, separating the bottle and screwdriver, along with a decent amount of hair, from my limb.

I loaded the barrel pump, a small pry-bar, a garden hose, and some more tape into my pack, and set out away from Palm Springs. I knew that a few miles down the track there was a gas station.

* * * * *

Given I didn't have a gascan, I searched behind the gas station's convenience store and, luckily enough, found one. It was a beat up red canister, probably older than I was, and bone dry. Damn. I had made my way across the station when it happened; I hadn't even started prying the lid off one of the tanks when I heard a sudden, harsh staccato clip-clopping of hoof-steps on the asphalt behind me. There was a gasp, and, strangely enough, am excited shriek.

"Miss'er Nay-Nay!"

...What?

I looked to the small, squeaky voice and found myself gaping at a really strange looking little horse. They were tiny, standing at no more than two feet high, and glistening in the early morning sun. Yeah, glistening. They looked like they were made of glass, their many turquoise facets catching the light in a spectacularly beautiful display, only interrupted by the oversized baseball cap and a slightly sagging pair of toddler's shorts, which were kept in place by a repeatedly looped shoelace.

The adorable mini-horse ran forward and hugged my leg, not noticing or simply not caring that my boot/bandage combo hindered their nuzzling.

"Miss'er Nay-Nay, gid' yup Mis-ter Nay-Nay!" The small child tried climbing up my leg, repeating their nonsense all the while. With a laugh, I lowered myself to the ground, and was soon the personal playground of the adventurous foal. I had never liked kids, but this one was too cute to be awful. Even with a mild hangover.

"Well, well, well, little Mr Missy Miss, what's your name, and what are you doing around here?" Identifying gender by looking at a crystal horse was difficult, and while I was pretty sure it was a dude-horse, I decided to play it safe.

"I'm, I'm El-lot. Ell-ee-ot."

I swear the name stumble would have annoyed me back as a human, but it was the cutest thing hearing this child fumble its words. But seriously, "Elliot? Thats my name; I guess I can be Elliot and you can be little Elliot-Too." The child rolled off my back, scrambled in front of me, and stared me down, scrunching its face. Oh god, my heart.

"Nuh-uh! You're Mister Nay-Nay!" he squeaked, punctuating with a hoof to my nose. "Let's go see dinosaurs, Mister N-"

"Bleu, thats not safe, get away from that horse!" a new voice rang out across the gas station. Turning my head, I could see it was a another blue mini-horse person, albeit a normal sized one. She had dingy, matted cerulean coat, and a tangled violet mane hanging above a long, spiraled horn. Despite her overall dirty appearance, her piercing sapphire eyes were rich and gleaming. Or, at least they would be, if they weren't currently glaring at me.

With an adorable huff, Elliot buried his head in my mane and began hugging my neck. "Now, Bleu." She sounded pissed.

"Blue? Really? He said his name was Elliot," I was pretty sure the big little bluehorse was calling the tiny glass bluehorse Blue, and I just wanted to set things straight. Maybe state my mind a little. "Blue just sounds...unoriginal. Zero effort given into it. I'd have called him Shiny, or Adorable."

Her steely gaze fell, and she looked confused. "'He said'? You mean, you got him to talk? Actually talk? To you? What'd you say to get him to like you so much?"

"Nothing; I was out here getting gas when little Elliot-too here snuck up on me. Called me 'Mister Nay-Nay', I'm going to assume a horse is somehow involved. Well, one other than me. Obviously." I honestly couldn't say Nay-Nay with a straight face.

"Yeah, albiet one that doesn't look as beat up as you," she said, fishing a plush horse from a backpack strapped to her side. "Come on Bl-er, Elliot..."

Reluctantly, Elliot-Too separated himself from my neck, and trudged towards the mystery mare. Once he snatched the horse from her telekinetic grasp, he forgot his reluctance and began eagerly playing with the plush, which was nearly as big as he was.

"So, whats a half-dead looking horse doing following us?" There was a certain edge to her voice, and a brilliant fire in her eyes. Yeah, not even a minute, and she fucking hated me.

"Okay, first off, it looks worse than it is; I crashed a bunch and then got really trashed yesterday, but I feel pretty good right about now. And B, I'm just here to get gas for my car. What are you doing all the way out here? Palm Springs is a pretty good way away from anything..." Quid pro quo, tit-for-tat and all that.

It was evident from her continued glaring that she doubted me. After a brief, awkward pause, she answered, "We're on our way to the Everafter...."

My confusion must have been evident, as her features softened and she stared at me quizzically. "You know, the 'Gates of Ever After', the place that the Space woman wants us to go to?"

"..."

"Look, when you go to sleep, hasn't there been a series of voices talking to you? I mean, the friggen horse God of the aliens must have spent the better part of three days explaining that shit to everyone. We're supposed to be gathering survivors and supplies, and meeting up all over the country. Our closest site is somewhere east of here, dubbed 'Ever After'...Y-you have been hearing them, right?"

"..."

"The kids and I hear 'em..."

"...What the fuck have you been smoking, and where can I find some?" I mean, the blue talking horse was still plenty trippy enough, but talking about, well, this was something special. "And...what do you mean 'the kids'?"

She shook her head, and left with Elliot-Too, who muttered a soft "G'bye", and disappeared back into the convenience store.

The last 'unicorn' I'd pissed off beat my ass senseless with his freaky magic, so I decided not to investigate. I went back to filling the small gascan.

* * *

Working a crank was pretty difficult with hooves. Which is to say, it friggen sucks. The gascan only held at most two gallons of gas, and even that took several minutes of awkward cranking, fumbling, and swearing.

Satisfied regardless, I gathered my items and prepared to set off. I turned around and practically bumped into the blue mare from before. I jumped back, screaming, much to the delight of...oh boy, several children sitting in a rickety wooden cart nearby.

"So, I was kinda hoping you were just a horse earlier, because pulling this damn thing is a hassle. Think you could-"

Nope. Not dealing with that shit. With a shake of my head, I made my way down the highway into Palm Springs.

"Eh, worth a shot..."

* * *

In the few miles we walked, she went on to tell me that she had awoken the same day I had, the 23rd, missing fingers and family. Unlike me, she had kept track of the days, and my guestimated 8 days was actually a long 10 (so I guess I must have been out longer those few blackouts....damn).

Her name was Winter, though it was some of the children calling her 'Miss Winter' that told me rather than her; beyond telling me that she had gathered these children and walked all the way from Long Beach here, she was pretty tight-lipped. I tried asking more about this 'Luna' character but she would either change the subject or go back to walking in silence.

I looked into the cramped wagon and saw a decent amount of supplies stacked alongside the playing children. Elliot-Too met my gaze with an adorably soft "H'llo", which earned a smile from the elusive Winter. She went on to tell me that, aside from soft crying before falling asleep, Elliot hadn't made a peep since he'd been found by her. She claimed he wasn't always the vibrant color I'd seen, but was a very muted cyan before this morning. At my disbelief, she insisted that I 'should be more open to strange things in this new world'. Creepy as shit, thats what she is.

It was only the beginning.

***

We had finally reached the end of the end of the highway (although Route 111 continued on through Palm Springs, it was officially Palm Canyon). While I made for my truck, Winter took her rickety cart to the nearby visitors center.

After filling the tank with what little I had in the gascan, I was busy in the cab, pumping the pedal. Winter walked up to me, so I lowered the window and stopped.

"So, uh, what're you doing?" She was looking at the front of the truck; I think she doubted the ability of the vehicle to function after a crash.

"Well, trying to get this truck running. After that, I'm going to go fill 'er up at the station proper, and then...who knows? Wherever the Fun Ferry decides to...well, ferry me I guess, and...yeah."

She raised an eyebrow. "The 'Fun Ferry'? Sure you don't mean the 'Cuddle Shuttle'?" Ha-ha, how'd she....oh shit, how'd she know?! A glance at the missing hood showed that she couldn't have simply read it. Something was wrong.

"Cuddle Shuttle? That doesn't technically rhyme if you enunciate. I'm more fond of alliteration anyway. Get it? Always admired alliteration above...yeah..." Just play it cool.

I think she bought it, but she kept her eyes narrowed, staring me down for the longest time. I simply went back to cranking the car, and it roared to life.

"Well, uh, I guess thats good. I'll just go fill up the tank, and if you want, I'll be on my way, and..."

"Come back. Fill the tank and come back here." There was ice in her voice but fire in her eyes. She sounded so much younger than me, and was signifiganly dwarfed by myself, let alone the huge pickup, and honestly I was terrified of her. She had those crazy-eyes.

I expected her to go back to the visitors center, but as I turned around and drove down the highway, I could see her glaring at my truck . At me.

Creepy as shit.

Little White Lie

After an agonizingly long drive down the dusty desert track, I'd reached the old gas station again, and set about pumping gas into the tank. The tag on the fuel pump had said it moved anywhere from 10 to 15 ounces per stroke, there were like...I dunno, a hundred or so ounces in a gallon, and I knew a Silverado gas tank was 26 gallons. Doing the math in my head, this equated to a fuckin' bunch of cranking ahead of me.  I should really go look for an electric pump, I mused.

I mean, I could use gas to fuel a generator to run the pump, which would get me gas for the generator in an endless cycle of...okay, enough stalling.

It honestly took me a lot less time that I'd expected, only about twenty minutes or so, to fill up the tank. Twenty minutes of absolute suck. In the week I'd been stealing gas, I'd never had to fill a tank from empty before, and vowed to never do it again, because it really, really sucked. My arm-hoof-leg things were a bit sore after performing the repetitive task mindlessly for such a stretch of time.

Stomach grumbling in protest of its neglect, I saw my way into the little convenience-store. I don't know how Winter and her group got in without smashing anything, but they were kind enough to leave the door unlocked. Kind enough to, oh wow, to leave some money on the counter for anything they took earlier. Weirdo.

Breakfast was a lukewarm canned-tea and a tin of assorted nuts; I was finally moving up in this world. You know, there were some severe downsides to everyone disappearing, and the dollar menu's disappearance was one of them. C'est la vie, I guess. Still, I'd managed to last some time on snacks and the most basic of foods. Guess this body runs on good vibes, sunshine, and edible garbage. Sweet.

On the subject of good vibes, I was drawing my shitty meal out as long as I could, given my reluctance to return to her.

I was never any good at reading people, but she was just...off. She spoke utter nonsense and traveled halfway across SoCal in a rickety wooden cart full of kids; there was nothing right about that. But she didn't look half dead, and didn't have a car, so I'd be a fool to not group up with her, despite her dementia and creepiness.

Life is just a series of shitty compromises and all. Womp womp.

Stowing more snack-foods and a few overpriced drinks in my pack, I packed everything into the cab and set off to rejoin her little group.

A bright flash as I crested a hill forced me to narrow my eyes, lest they fry in the sun's harsh glare. Seriously these weird sunglasses sucked, all they did was turn everything piss yellow and they looked dumb as hell; they didn't even provide help in low light as advertised. I was so glad I didn't pay for them like a chump. As I rolled down the gentle slope to the visitor's center, I could make out the children chasing each other across the parking lot. I killed the engine and made my way to the mysterious Winter.

"You came back," she muttered incredulously to herself. "You actually came back."

"Of course I'd come back, I replied with a snort. "You're like, the first person I've encountered in days. We've got to stick together."

She almost broke a grin, until I continued, "Plus, you've sorta got a plan or something. I've mostly just been driving around doing dick-all. Thats a phrase people say, right? Dick-all....er, whatever, I think that makes up for the crazy dream talk and the creepy kids thing you got going on." Oh, if looks could kill....

Seeking a distraction, I opted to try and have her answer some questions. Namely, why she chose to walk across SoCal. Though there weren't too many cars out, they were still easy picking. I didn't want to mention that this was, like, the fourth truck I'd stolen, but I think I hinted pretty strongly at it. I mean, I made sure to use 'liberated' and 'scavenged', though I doubt it helped my case. Regardless, her response was that she was a freshman in high school. After some incredulous prodding, she went on to elaborate that she'd gotten by everywhere on the bus or riding shotgun; she hadn't even gotten her learner's permit. So, in addition to being unwilling to steal someone's car (but strangely okay with swiping some hipster's market cart, the hypocrite) she was sort of unable to drive herself.

Frankly, I found the situation rather ridiculous.

I mean, first off, who's going to care if you take a car? Everyone was gone! And with that, thats the perfect place to learn to drive! She just punched me with a huff, and we were quiet for once.

It was a pretty awkward silence, with only the kid's and a light wind making any noise. Seeking to further conversation, I asked about them.

She'd said she found them within her city, after a day of wandering, and gathered them up, seeking to wait until someone came to help. Power finally went out, and she realized there was no going back. Just as lost as any of them, she 'prayed for a miracle', which was answered in her dreams. Crazy, right? She insists that some magic alien horse god (because any *one** of those on its own wasn't unbelievable enough) is responsible for all of this, and urging those of us left behind to gather at who-knows-where. *Finally getting somewhere with this one...

"I'm pretty sure you were making allegations regarding my sweet ride, what was that about?"

"Well, last night I had her visit me again in my sleep. She told me that there was someone out there, someone who 'slipped through the cracks' and was out there doing harmful things. When she appears though, it isn't...clear, I guess is the word to use. She said it had something to do with human dreams being different than what she was used to, it didn't really make sense. She tried explaining it, all of it, but all I remember is her anger. She was really, really mad, but also a little scared, I think..."

I laughed at that, and saw an opportunity to deflect. "So, the alien goddess had decided on a whim to wipe a majority of the human population from the face of the planet, and turned the remainders into some really weird shit. She then talks, albeit poorly, with some of them briefly, tells them to gather somewhere, and is afraid of someone she left behind? The fuck's up with that?"

She was completely expressionless. Her glistening emerald eyes wavered in the early noon sun. Her lips moved with careful deliberation and said, "I'm not so sure that its one of us she's afraid of. I, ah, I see things, when I sleep."

Well no shit. I'm certain she meant something else, but I had to go for it. "Yeah, we've discussed this, those are called dreams. We all have them, but some of us can't remember them."

With a turn of her head, she gave me that look. Everyone always gave me that look. The 'stop talking' look.

"There's something I see when I sleep," she finally confided, softening her gaze. "Not just the Princess, something else. Something else alive. At least, I think She's alive. She feels...its hard to say....she terrifies me."

"Well....I mean, its only a dream." I said. I'm not sure who I was trying to assure.

"Yeah. Only a dream." She trailed off into silence once again.

I preferred when she was yelling at me.

Stories of Tomorrow-Morrow Land

"So," I began, climbing out of the truck. "You said something eerie and cryptic about going east?"

"Yeah," Winter began, after some pause. "We've been walking since-"

"You do know that you got off the eastbound 10 proper, right? You're walking down the triple-1, which runs down to Mexico. Or, like, down to more desert for a while." I continued as she made to speak, "Yeah, indoor ranges are for dweebs with anything smaller than .223, so knowing all the ways to get to open deserts is a must. Also, a good place for metal scavenge, because being broke sucks and people will pay good money for scrap steel." There's *that** look again.*

"O-kay...I was going to say, we've been walking for days, and wanted to get some more water before getting back on track. We spent most of yesterday at those stupid cement dinosaurs, and were just going to-"

Oh *hell** naw.*

"I don't care if you're the only other adult, er, practical adult, you just lost shotgun privileges to the shiny one."

"...What?"

"Those dinosaurs are a national treasure, and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. A day there is a day well spent!"

Winter simply shook her head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'God-damn idiot'. Tough but fair. At least she was grinning a bit.

"O-kay then....so what's say we get this show on the road, eh?" She asked, timid enthusiasm breaking through her irritation.

"Woah there. You're, heh, you're putting the cart before the horse here. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for driving out to meet up with anyone else still around, but there's a whole lot of east in relation to our current location."

"Look, you just focus on getting us mobile, and I'll keep us on track. Deal?"

Shit, it sure beats driving around aimlessly like some kind of chump. Plus, actual human(ish) company! "Yeah sure, why not?"

We'd spent the better part of an hour trying to hitch that stupid cart to the rear of the truck; rather, I spent nearly ten minutes with some rope and a whole lot of duct tape, and Winter spent almost an hour after that trying to convince me it wasn't structurally stable, despite the mounting evidence to the contrary. We'd still loaded most of the cargo wherever we could fit it in the truck bed, but she still had some supplies I wasn't willing to part ways with.

After the hassle of getting all the damned kids into the back, we loaded up ourselves. Despite my addmitidely silly gripes, Winter sat beside me in the passenger seat, with the living blue glowstone seated in her lap. After a few awkward seconds of near silence, she began.

"Well? Are we going to be moving any time soon?"

"Well yourself. Aren't you going to put on your seatbelt?" Safety....well, maybe not first, but it is a priority. At least for them. "I know all the cool kids these days don't wear their belts anymore, but back in my day we had those crazy safety videos, and I ain't having none of that shi-er ish on my watch."

"Oh you've gotta be....Look, CHP isn't going to be ticketing us, and nobody's going to be around to crash into us. I think we have bigger issues at hand," She said, with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, you aren't wearing your seatbelt!"

"Winter, my dear, there's two ways that children will learn: examples and warnings. If you can't serve as a good example," I began, motioning for her to fasten her seatbelt, "then you should serve as a horrible warning. In the unlikely event of disaster, I plan to show what happens if you don't buckle up. Again." I wasn't going to tell her I never really dealt with children myself. Also, seatbelts were uncomfortable as shit as a horse.

She sat with her mouth agape for a second before moving to buckle up, all the while muttering something about how little and how much sense that made. I'll admit that Its a terrible bit of advice, and child-rearing shouldn't be left to me but, you know, little victories.

Despite my best efforts of avoiding awkwardness, the ride was, well, hella awkward to say the least. You can only play 'I spy' with kids you don't know in the desert for so long. Worst part was, I tried explaining that, yes, those little green things are, in fact, cacti, and we might not see the actual person-shaped saguaro for a few hours, but I don't think I got through to them. And yes, its cacti, not cactuses, I don't care what the new textbooks say.

After a drawn out sigh, I absentmindedly began twisting the radio dial to and fro, searching for something other than dead air. No such luck.

"Pretty eerie, isn't it? Not even static being broadcasted. Its just, silence.... Kinda makes you realize just how bad things are."

What a downer. She must be fantastic at parties.

"Sucks mostly, I get stir crazy in silence." With not much to do but drive, I began searching my side of the cab for a CD, tape, or anything to help pass the time. "Hey, check the glove box for some music or something, yeah?"

"You didn't even look through the car before driving off? What are y- forget get it, fine...."

She dug through a surprising amount of useless crap. You'd think a rental truck would be kept organized and tidy, but the paper scraps and light trash showed otherwise. She shut the hatch, and flipped down the passenger sun visor. Various fast food receipts showered down much to little Elliot's amusement, however a clattering on the floor mat below caught my attention. A cursory glance yielded...no fuckin' way....

"Ha-ha, cassingle. Nice."

"Ca-what?"

"A cassette-single. Old school and cool. I think so at least," I could do little to curb my enthusiasm. It was equally weird and cool as hell to find one of these damn things in the car. As she picked it up I asked, "So, what song are we stuck with?"

"It just says 'M-C-E'. Any idea what it means?"

"Maybe a dyslexic likes My Chemical Romance....heck if I know," I glanced at the center console to confirm my theory and....yes! "Pop that sucker in and lets find out if its any good or not."

After a little bit of fumbling (seriously, hooves aren't made to press small buttons) I'd rewound the single, and with careful optimism, started the track.

Light strings and the rhythmic double kick of a bass drum filled the cab of the car. Vague familiarity brought a grin to my face, but it wasn't until the lyrics kicked in shortly that I fully recognized the song. I couldn't help but laugh.

"M-C-E, its Mama Cass Elliot! Duh!"

Amidst a few grumblings behind me of 'old people music' and 'boring' was Winter's 'Mama who?'.

"Okay, I'll admit that yes, I only know who she is because of Lost, but she was like a big deal in the late 60's and early 70's....nothing?" Seriously? "Ahem, Once I believed that when love came to me....It would come with rockets, bells and poetry...oh come on I know I've heard that on the radio."

"Maybe on that oldies station, but I can't say I've ever heard of her before."

"Whatever, I'm just glad we're stuck with a pretty cool song," with a glee that only terrible singers know, I joined the cassette. "E-ven if no-bo-dy else sings a-looooooong!"

"Lord, give me strength...."

"No fuckin' way...." I needed to check it out, this was too good to be true. We'd only been driving for a few hours (to the same hella rad tune, over and over again), but it had clearly taken its toll on the kids; they were all scattered about the seats, snoring and muttering in their slumber. Winter seemed on the verge of sleep herself, and was only shaken out of her stupor as I pulled the truck to the side of the freeway.

"Hmm? What's going on? Why are we stopping?" So groggy, so inquisitive, and just the teeniest bit adorable. Confound this horse change, everything's all cute and shit.

Okay, this is it. Don't be dumb. She won't support you if you're dumb. "I, uh, need to drain the mongoose." FUCK.  "It needs draining." Stop being weird!

"Oh, o-kay, whatever..." She turned to one side, and closed her eyes. Speech check success!.

I quietly exited the truck, and went towards my real goal; up ahead was a large semi truck with an entire flatbed full of golf carts. I mean, I'd done nothing but joyride in a bunch of some sweet trucks since the Horsening, but golf carts, man!

I lowered the ramp, gaining access to the back-most carts, and entered one. It had a small yellow box zip-tied to one of the shiny metal poles holding up the roof and windscreen, which was labeled simply as 'keys'. I opened it and was rewarded with a bunch of numbered but otherwise identical keys. Highly visible and easily accessible? Quality security like this is, er, was why the world is such a shitty place.

I took the one marked with a like number to the cart itself, and tried starting the thing. Nothing. You ding-dong, electric carts don't have engine sounds. I turned the key again, set it to forward, and tried the pedal. Still, the cart remained silent and stationary. Womp-womp.

"Hmmm," I hmmm'd to myself. I went about searching through the various panels on the side, there might be some hidden button, or secret code, or....yep, dangling pig-tail means a missing battery.

Well, okay, long term, I might be shooting myself in the foot here....but short term....

With reckless abandon I hurried back to the truck, and went about searching the rear bed for batteries, tossing them into a pile once retrieved. The action awoke Winter, who descended from the passenger side, confronting me with a quizzical gaze.

"There's some sick-ass carts over there, I can't not test them out."

There was a noticeable twitch in her forehead that I chose to ignore. Her glare was likewise unnoticed as I carried the battery (handle in my mouth, bleh) over to the cart.

"We're finally making good progress, and you go and decide to stop for a damn golf cart?!"

I went about trying to connect the battery posts to the matching cable terminal without being fried (and without fingers).

"Wlll, idzt ndd lck idz juz mmhe." Talking through a battery cable is challenging, but evasive and annoying so pretty rewarding.

"What?"

"I said, its not like its just for me," Finishing up, I closed the compartment door and went back to the battery pile to restart the process. Trial runs are for dweebs and pansies; go big I always say.

She was still glaring, but remained silent as I repeated the installation process another three times. All the commotion was gathering attention from the adorable horse kids, who looked on silently.

Once again...."With feeling!" I keyed life into the first cart, and with an electric whir, the cart shot off a few feet. "Success!"

Ignoring the growing curiosity of those gathered, I brought each cart to a halt next to the truck, and climbed into the bed. Jumping from the bed of the truck to the roof of a cart was hilariously terrifying, especially weighed down with supplies, but it was happening. I put a thin strip of tape around one edge of a traffic cone, securing it loosely to the roof. Then, I'd simply hopped to the next cart and repeated the process. Still hilariously dangerous, these hooves have surprisingly shitty traction on the smooth plastic roof.

Regardless, goal secured, method incoming.

I made my way back to the first cart, and hopped back into the truck bed (totally didn't buckle under my weight and hit the bed wall with my face. Nope), I went about taping tarps around some light PVC tubing. Grabbing EVERYTHING I was used to working with made everything simple in the apocalypse, go figure.

Finishing a pole, I brought it up as best I could, and smacked myself in the face. It only stung slightly, and thats because I'd used way more force than one sensibly should, but still, progress! I was vaguely aware of a few chuckles, and I'm pretty sure Winter thought I'd gone mad, but I still had another three to finish, so judgement be damned, I went to finish (and subsequently test) three more.

Finally finished with all the material preparation, I stood before the assembled crowd of adorableness. Clearing my throat, I began, "Alright poozers, who's ready for some fun?!"

Nothing. What a bunch of....well, poozers.

"Eesh, fine, I'll explain. Its simple really." I set about explaining everything clearly and visually. "Team up, hop in a cart, and grab a stick." I grabbed a stick in the crook of my hoof leg thing, and climbed into the cart, sitting rather uncomfortably on the bench seat. "Right pedal is forward, left is brake, and middle is reverse. Now, you'll have drivers," I turned the steering wheel quickly left and right, "who just focus on not getting hit, and lancers, who use the bitching 'lances' I made to knock down the roof cone." I tried knocking down the cone atop my vehicle, but it was impossible. "Well, you dont hit your own. Gotta knock out the other carts, y'know? Shouldn't be too difficult or dangerous. So! Whats say we form teams, eh?"

Despite their trepidation, they were quick to form three other teams, Winter reluctantly acting as driver for 'Team Magnificence'. The shiny child beside me was my only partner in 'Team Elliot' and acting lancer given his inability to reach the pedals. I'd taped him to the rear bar, so there was little chance of him falling out due to unforeseen circumstances. Unlike Winter, he didn't seem to mind, laughing as he swung the lance giddily.

"So, are there any special rules, or....?" An orangish girl, team 2's driver, called out to me across the various chattings going on while everyone got ready.

"I think-" Winter began, before I cut her off with the admittedly underwhelming electric whirring of the cart's motor.

"Don't let your cone get hit....oh, and don't die!"I added as an afterthought.

We must have spent a good half hour dicking around in the carts. Rounds never ended, cones were simply righted with bursts of acceleration or accidental lances. Nobody was keeping score, but Team Elliot probably wasn't doing too well, but nobody got hurt, and that's a win in my book. I mean, I'd gotten hit more than a few times from team 2 and Magnificence, given that there were no rules regarding beating the snot of an overly aggressive driver who presented a big target. Those lances were padded to hell with cloth tarps, so I'd survive.

Not bad for a quick excuse to play with electric carts.

With the sun setting the game died down, and we were all content to simply drive around at our leisure, enjoying the scenery and just having fun. I pulled our cart off the road near the truck, intending on getting a water to soothe my throat (I'd cut back on swearing a ton during the game, but no way I wasn't going to cry and yell in the heat of the moment), telling Elliot that I'd be back.

I reached one hoof off the lower deck and onto the packed desert sand, and thats when everything went wrong.

I felt a jolt run through my leg, and my whole limb was numb. My heart skipped a beat as my leg locked up, and I fell out of the cart.

The jolt continued down my spine, spreading the numbness throughout my body.

I tried getting up, succeeding in only spazzing out on the dusty ground before being completely unable to move. Attempts in calling for help resulted in a sickly gurgle, but soon I couldn't even do that.

Angry red glances of the setting sun broke through the obstruction of my dirty mane.

I soon lost sight of the sun, and everything went black.

Strangers in a Strange Land

Who is left to hear of the great secrets of mankind.

Do you know what I know?

I have known for eons.

Look at you.

What do you see?

Do you know what *They** did?*

How much do you hate?

"Mmmmmm....s'not enough...."

I slowly came to, groggy and sore. Despite that being a recurring trend since....well, admittedly a few months since before the horsening, for once I had no idea why. Taking slow, deep breathes of the cool, dry air, I was content to just lie in peace and keep the world away, if not for a few more minutes.

The world is a dick, and had other plans.

"Hey. Heeeeeeeey. You dead yet?" A small voice accompanied sharp prods in my side; I was unsure if they were trying to rouse me or just wanting to kick a corpse. I slowly cracked open an eye, barely making out the assailant in the flickering, low light.

"Oh hey.....Orange...." I remembered the shiny and old ones' names, and there were like a billion of the little scamps, how was I supposed to learn them in an afternoon? Despite the acknowledgement, she kept up her prodding. "I'm not dead...You can stop poking me....please.....please stop poking me."

"Miss Winter said to get her if you stopped breathing, not if you finally woke up. So get up and go talk to her, ya big goofball."

I was content to simply lay back and rest. Though the cool air carried chilling breezes, the highway pavement was still rather warm, having baked all day in the sun, and made a damn fine bed despite its rough form. Also, everything in my body screamed against the prospect of getting up, so laziness won out. Though the prodding continued for some small time after, she eventually stopped and walked away, leaving me alone, in short-lived silence.

The heavier click-clack cadence of Winter's hoofsteps approached from somewhere behind me, and stopped upon reaching me. With a light pomf, she sat down beside me, and sighed deeply.

"Hey."

One word, just the single greeting, and it was pretty....strange. She sounded concerned and relieved all at once, and yet....tired. Absolutely exhausted. Funny, given I was the one who had a stroke-neurysm. I slowly rolled from my side to lay on my stomach, giving her my attention and response.

"Hey yourself."

"You scared the hell out of me. First we thought you'd just tripped, but I noticed the twitching and thought you'd gotten zapped. Sage said that it was likely you'd been bit, but we couldn't find anything nearby that would have. We all ditched the carts, but you didn't have a....well, any new scratches on you. Not any we could find, at least.... At first you were writhing around, mumbling nonsense, and then you stopped....stopped everything; you stopped moving, talking....barely even breathing. I didn't think you'd wake up."

Woah shit....

"Well...I'm awake now," I croaked out. I softly chuckled, and continued. "Don't know what happened, all I know is I feel like I got thrown under a train, and I'm a little hoarse."

"Moron," she said, lightly punching my shoulder. I got her to laugh, so despite the light tap shooting jolts of pain over my side, I still count that as a victory.

"I'm not kidding, though. Throat feels like sandpaper, and my heads beating like a....I dunno, shit....it hurts."

"Well, come on," she said, rising to her hooves before helping me up. "Lets get you over with the rest of us."

I was going to question why I wasn't set up by a fire they'd made, but given that they'd had no clue what was wrong, and doubted my survival, I guess the separation made sense. I wouldn't want to set up camp next to a corpse, especially not with a ton of kids nearby.

Still sucked having to walk.

I awkwardly limped my way to the fire, seeing a pot of some funky smelling soup and decided to stick to water. Filling a metal tin, I tried to balance myself on three aching limbs and hold the cup up, which was carried out with the grace of a wobbly field sobriety test. Still, the cool water was a relief to my parched throat. Gathering up the proper strength to speak, I openly asked, "So...what bites without teeth and incapacitates a horse for a few hours?"

Given that nearly everyone else was already asleep, I looked to Winter, who shrugged, and to the orange one, who suggested ghosts. Seeing a standing figure just behind  them, I asked their opinion.

"Non es....de Solis"

At the deep rumble that was clearly an older man's voice, Winter and orange practically jump, and turned to face this new being. Standing just outside the campfires's light was another being like us. Well, similar to us in that they were a horse, but different in that they were almost completely concealed beneath a rough brown cloak. At our noticing of his presence, he lowered his head at Winter, and spoke.

"Morz Kertah...?"

The night was completely silent once again.

Being dumbstruck by confusion, I decided that winter, the more eloquent of us, should be the one to respond. Probably a mistake.

"What in the hell are you saying." Smooth....

"M-morz kertah?" He repeated, sounding more unsure. He turned his head towards me, and continued, "*O-oh, Lookayo n-non oorol*oh?"

"Well, I've got nothing. Any ideas?" He looked back at her, confusion evident on his face.

"Nope. Not anything particularly helpful, at least. Unless...." I turned to our mysterious guest, and began addressing him as best I could remember. "Soooo....sup? Ho-la, mi amigo, or Salood if that's your thing....Bon-jour mon'amie. Priy-er, privyet tovarisch. Hallo, uh, frond." He was smiling, but it was clearly the smile of someone who had no polite way to say 'dafuq did this guy call me?'. I continued on, at least as best I could, regardless. Foreign language is hard!

"Ah, ahlan...? Um....shit....sal-vay, ah...."

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes, and he straightened up excitedly. With an equine whinny that sounded suspiciously like laughter, he continued, "Veneetayroy post meahll, eht *muhltah dahll. Sctahrr ehst tahhm feelix ehxtee*teray!"

My partial success had me elated as well. "Aww yiss, brute force does have real world applications! Try enough variations of hello and you're sure to find one that works!"

"Wha...but....Okat, so you tie your keys around your neck and forget where they are, but you know how to say 'hi' in a bunch of different languages?!"

"Yeah, well.... some would call it a misspent youth. Others, wasted electives. I call it preparation for the real world. Just, kinda screwing myself over as far as college is concerned but you know, horse apocalypse, so, whatever...."

"Ayea, ayea, *ehn*!"

"So then, what's he saying?"

"I have no idea!" The orange one laughed, and Winter just facepalmed. Facehooved? Whatever, communication was clearly an option. Getting his attention, I began, gesturing at myself and Winter, "We don't...", I shook my head vigorously "...understand....", before pointing to him "...your problems.". I pointed to the fire we had going, and then the sky. "You can stay with us for the night, if you need to." I then pointed towards the truck, and then the sky again, making an arc movement with my arm, "But we're probably leaving in the morning."

He kept grinning all the while, following my motions with a slight nod and an affirmative grunt, before responding with an enthusiastic "Non intellego!"

"I think he might be dumb. Maybe thats why the horse virus makes him speak in tongues. Heh, make him dumb on top of being dumb." Winter facepalmed again behind me, whispering something along the lines of 'you're really bad at this'. Well, I didn't see *her** stepping up to the plate....*

"Me-he ahbeoondum, sed confestim revenio!" He pointed off in a direction slightly left of the highway. After a few motions toward nothing for a few seconds, he gestured towards himself with an 'Arjentuhm armuhm'. With a slight dip of his head and a quick smile, he set off into the darkness where he had pointed before.

Orange spoke up first "You should go tackle him with your face."

"Yeah, sure, let me go tackle him."

"With your face!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the absolute absurdity of these last few hours, and Orange was content to join in. Nearly killed by something that doesn't exist and meeting a strange dude who doesn't speak a lick of English. "This isn't how I pictured the end of the world. What in the actual fuck is going on?"

"I'm just saying, we shouldn't trust people right off the bat, and we shouldn't just wait for him to come back."

"Why not? You trusted me and I'm awesome! We had a hella rad time and are a whole state closer to whatever mystery you're dreaming about. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, its my truck, so I get the deciding vote to move or not, and I can't feel anything but pain right now, so I say we stay." Winter was less than pleased at my eagerness to trust the weird horse dude. "Look....I'm sorry, its just....we've both had a rough day. Why don't we sleep on it, and decide what to do in the morning, yeah?"

Despite the craziness of everything going on, I was sore and extremely tired, and settled down to rest. Still, I was pretty content with everything that had transpired throughout the day, even the mystery regarding my incapacitation.  With any luck, tomorrow would continue with this recent trend of (mostly) good luck and an end to the bickering.

Daybreak brought even more soreness to my attention. Shivering slightly, I'd noticed that the fire died out some time in our sleep....

And apparently the horsening happened again, because everyone else was gone. Everyone and everything, I'd noticed. Looking for the keys around my neck, I was met with empty air and my ragged, dirty coat.

Fuckin' hell, man....Despite the absolute suckiness of being sore as shit and left behind in the middle of the Arizona desert....no, no everything just sort of sucked right now.

5.25 Oorah

The obnoxious whirring of an angle grinder woke me up, just moments before being accompanied the harsh grating of the grinder at work.

Investigating the commotion, I found Sam outside a caged room in the basement. Man, sound travels pretty far hereabouts. Must've *sucked** working here.*

Seeing a peculiar new addition to his form, I greeted him appropriately.

"What's up, Bucket-Butt?!" I swear was only looking at his ass because of the rather strange image depicted. The shining silver canister contrasted with his bright pink coat, but melded with his coat as if it had been there for as long as he'd been a horse.

The grinder jumped up from its position near the cage door's lock, rattling along the crisscrossing links before being shut off. The sparkling pink haze surrounding the grinder dissipated, and it fell to the ground with a soft snap, signalling the destruction of it's abrasive wheel.

"So, you see it too?" He questioned with a glare; clearly he wasn't particularly keen on being surprised with power tools in his telekinetic grasp. "Yeah, showed up about an hour after you first left; I was just shiftin' shit around, trying to make this place more manageable, presentable, y'know? Place looks halfway decent and Poof! There it is in a flash of light. Tried washing it, and shaving a bit on one side; it doesn't grow down to the skin, but it sure as hell ain't scrubbing off. Wonder what it means..."

I checked my own rear for a mark and was greeted with the same brown coat I'd had; Which is a good thing, I guess? For some reason, pictures appearing in flashes of light didn't seem like something I'd appreciate, as being a talking horse was weird enough.

"Whatever. You were out like a light, without unloadin' your truck, thanks for that, so I went out for some non-perishables. Grid's down, like I said; not sure if you saw that, but the station's running on it's own for the time being. But, the big news is I got the radio squawkin', and actually made contact!" His toothy grin falters, and he continues. "Well, halfway contact. They're broadcasting for any other, eh, 'survivors' that they aren't alone; some soldier boys down in Camp Bumblefuck, I was figuring we can go pay 'em a visit today."

'Soldier boys'? 'Camp Bumblefuck'? "Uh, d'you mean the Marine base in San Diego?" I had an uncle who's family was housed there for a while. They moved to the eastern seaboard a few years back, but I used to visit them all the time; the long drive to the base isn't one I was likely to forget any time soon.

"Yeah, thats it!" He picked up the grinder again with his weird telekinesis, and effortlessly swapped out the grinding wheel. "Go ahead and gear up, I'll pop the cage open and join you downstairs soon." With an almost manic grin, he set back to work.

***

I found a small stockpile of sealed goods (of which some were kept cool in a stolen ice-cream chiller) on the first floor, and munched on dry cereal for breakfast. Glancing at the gathered goods, it was safe to assume that Sam was also unable to stomach any meat products, given the lack of their presence.

Finishing quickly, I brought in my belongings from the truck, and left the contents of my laptop case to charge. While the internet and cell signals might be down, there was still a use for them, what with all the not at all pirated movies and music I'd had saved. And, I guess I could keep a track of things as time went on. I guess.

I simply tossed some water bottles in the case, and was greeted by Sam, holding a shotgun of all things in his freaky telekinesis. I silently raised a brow, looking from the gun to him.

"Popped the armory door, figured we might as well bring something along. And, you know what they say: Better to have it and not need it, than-"

"Than to need it and look dumb, yeah, I know," I finished for him. Well, okay maybe thats *not** the saying, but its right either way.* He continued outside, chuckling lightly.

Joining him outside, the new day became like any other: sober and shining.

I hated it already.

The drive down the highway towards the military base was unsettlingly uneventful.

Southern California traffic is awful on a good day, and infuriatingly nightmarish otherwise, but the road was surprisingly clear of vehicles. Well, for the most part; there was an occasional car or truck occupying a single lane, looking very out of place on the wide, barren freeway.

We spotted an ugly minivan with a smashed out driver-side window somewhere near Santa Ana, but our investigation yielded zero results, so we pressed onward.

I don't think Sam appreciated my off-key singing, and even I was getting sick of singing; you never really realize just how long Bohemian Rhapsody is until you're belting it out at the top of your lungs. He mostly drove behind me, but quickly overtook me and hit the brakes, stopping our journey only a few miles form the base. Maybe we should have brought radios. Quick as lightning, he hopped out of his car and ran over.

"Don't you feel that?" he asked unsteadily. He shifted his gaze from the coast to the nearby hills repeatedly, ears and tail flicking to and fro.

I killed the engine, set the brake, and hopped out of my truck. I was able to hear the soft tics and groans of my engine cooling, and the distant crashing waves along the nearby shore. With a grin, I answered.

"Feels nice; hot Monday morning and I get to drive around and-" my grin faltered and I trailed off, unsure of just what I was seeing.

In the distance I could make out that junky old seaside nuclear plant, and a fairly large craft hovering in place over the facility. Given the distance, I couldn't make out any features on the black craft, but it had to have been as long as one of the containment domes. My grin returned in full force.

"Oh shit, dude, thats great!" Barely restraining my excitement, I made to enter my car. "I mean we knew they were here, but shit, its a chore to drive this damn thing; if they can keep a bird that big in the air, they must have a way to reverse this stupid horse thing!"

I started the engine, and noticed that Sam hadn't moved. He was looking towards the craft, eyes wavering and ears splayed back, very clearly afraid. Like a damn dog....I couldn't help but think to myself. Seeing an opportunity, I honked the horn, shocking him from his stupor.

"Something wrong, my pretty pink princess?" I asked, attempting a wry grin.

"It...I just...I don't know," He didn't seem upset at my antics or my teasing; with his wavering voice it was obvious he was afraid. Terrified. "Its like...I feel cold. Empty. Coming from over there. It ain't right..."

I rolled my eyes and revved my engine. "Well, the base is over that way; you know, if you're still up for meeting up with the men on the radio."

He reluctantly reentered his vehicle, and slowly we pushed forward. As we drew nearer to the plant, the massive gray craft shifted in the sky, situating itself over the highway. Now observable, it looked...odd. Like a military cargo helicopter resized comically, and rotors dropped in favor of some impossible-looking means of propulsion. Without warning, Sam's cruiser shot past me, taking off down the highway.

I was confused by his action; it was clear that the craft would have been able to see us. Salvation was at hand, right?

Hope died as I slowly passed underneath the vessel; time stopped, a deep shudder ran down my spine, and my stomach lurched. A haze descended upon my vision, and everything went dark. Everything was silent; everything was wrong.

I didn't know I had driven away until my vehicle scraped against the K-rail dividing the freeway. Despite the sweltering California sun, I was shivering in my seat, and struggling to breathe.

I slammed on the brakes and worked to control my breathing.

"The FUCK was that?"

I caught up to Sam a few miles down the freeway; he was pulled over to the shoulder, vehicle forming a barrier between him and the path we came from. He was floating the gun with his bullshit powers, tracking me as I came to a stop by him.

"So did you-"

"I don't know why you just left be back there." Just lie. It never happened if you say it never happened. He doesn't need to worry. "Didn't feel a thing."

We had to press on; regardless of unexplainable feelings surrounding strange craft, the radio allegedly promised help, and thats much better than the two of us trying to help others. He was a little underwhelmed as we veered off the highway towards the first public gate. I suppose he didn't realize that one of the housing complexes would surround the base proper.

The iron gate was closed off, and the road was blocked by alternating orange and white barriers. The multiple guard stations, as well as a few barriers, all had MCRD sloppily painted on their windows.

"Well, I guess that makes sense...." I muttered. Sam didn't understand the message.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Aren't they supposed to, you know, be here to help us?"

"I think they want us to go to the MCRD, which is the...well I don't know what it stands for," Well, the Marine Corps something something, I thought. "But they train the Marines there; my cousin went through boot a few years ago. I think there's an airport across from it, and it seems like a likely enough place to start bringing in refugees."

"Well, thats a start. So, how do we get there?"

"Absolutely no idea. I know its off the '5, but other than that I guess we're just looking for an airfield." At my revelation, he turned to glare at me again. It was adorable. "You know, if you keep up that look, it might get stuck that way."

I wasn't close enough to hit, but he certainly tried. I pressed onward, laughing all the way.

***

I had never taken the exit that led to the depot entrance, I had always taken one that led to a locked gate, and followed the winding road to the front entrance.

Going in I could tell something was wrong; one of the guard booths' windows was shattered, and a wailing siren echoed hauntingly across the empty entrance. I killed my engine and continued on foot (On hoof? Stupid, stupid, stupid.). The alarm had a simple shutoff switch, so I went ahead and shut it off. Simply.

"What's that all about?" I don't know if he meant me turning off the stupid alarm or the wrecked window, but I answered regardless.

"Can't think..."

Placated, he continued past the small hut towards an armored vehicle sitting a couple hundred feet from the booth. I tried getting one of the shotguns out of the case in the guardhouse, but it was locked in place. What if they need it in an emergency? Its like chaining up a fire-extinguisher....

Sam started shouting. Well, it wasn't so much shouting as much as it was a rising series of 'Uh's. Investigating, I saw him peering in through the open door of one of the armored cars situated on a crossroad to the base; it was in a reasonable position to observe and guide incomers.

The shattered windshield, however, was unexpected.

That tightening feeling in my gut returned in a flash; that old sinking feeling making me want to throw up and have a seizure all at once.

I didn't want to know.

I didn't need to know.

I slowly walked forward; the echoing of my footsteps (hoofsteps) across the empty roadway a deafening cacophony in my head.

Two strange figures were slumped in a grisly heap in each seat; gaping wounds dripped, holes punched across each occupant. The driver of the vehicle some odd, almost troll-ish looking canine. Devil Dog. Even in the worst of situations, my crappy humor shone on. Stupid stupid stupid. The passenger was some bizarre avian/feline hybrid, wings nauseatingly splayed across the seat.

"Woah, shit..."

At my words, the passenger awoke and began coughing, a sickening scarlet sputum erupting from its maw.

"Woah shit!"

"OH SHIT!"

My eloquence is infections. WHATEVER. BIRD DUDE.

With speed and swears, I struggled to pull the amalgamation from the vehicle. Without fingers, and with Sam too busy freaking out, it was slow going. By the time I had dragged the being out, it was still and silent. Shit....

It was funny. Everything was brighter than I'd thought they would be. I'd seen a fair share of those grainy internet execution and horrible accident videos, and Lord knows I was a fan of Carpenter's work, but oddly enough it looks wrong. Not real, you know? Not when compared to the dead chimera lying next to a pink screaming horse.

Spread out, he was about as big as me, but he just seemed so....small. Vulnerable.

Fragile.

Sam was pressing on the catbird's chest. I think there was a show that made fun of CPR for gunshot wounds. I can't remember if I said anything.

Tears and wretched sobs grew more frantic as time went on, and then, with a massive ringing in my ears, everything went silent.

In the sudden cold, I felt it.

The ghostly echos of sporadic gunfire.

Terror so thick you can't move. Terror so thick you can't even breathe.

Terror so thick it clogs your lungs and makes a fucking earthquake of your limbs.

And the overwhelming horror that comes with the realization that you are not alone.

Everything went black, and I remember that I ran.

I remember red on black. Run.

Cold. Keep running.

Pain. Stop and you *die*.

And a voice.

//NOSCETEIPSUM//

The room is dark and empty.

I was asleep.

A lonesome soul cannot cope with the unknown.

Four bare walls indistinguishable from each other.

The darkness slowly crept to touch my face.

This is not the end. You are caught in the birthing of a new dawn.

Black and bitter cold.

I am ready to live.

You are not alone.

Dual screams echo silently.

I am ready to die.

Be strong. Think of me...

A lance of fire pierces my skull.

...if you can even think at all.