The war and the apple

The early morning sun was a familiar sight to the three girls as they stood at the front door, looking over the farm and deciding who got to do what that day.

“I think Scoots should deal with the chickens.” Applebloom snickered earning a scowl from her shorter friend.

“Can’t you let that go already? I accidently fell asleep in the coop once.” she said bitterly. Babs shook her head, blowing her bangs from her face.

“Nah it’s too funny to let go.” Scootaloo crossed her thin arms over her chest and pouted. Babs sighed and blew another few locks of hair out of her eyes. She leaned against the door frame not excited for another day's work. “Besides at least they like you. When I go near them they all kinda freak out.” Applebloom smiled.

“Not used to handling animals are ya?” she nudged her cousin as she headed toward the barn. “I’m going ta check on the machines, you wanna come with while Scoots checks out the birds?” Babs nodded anything to avoid the demon chickens.

Scootaloo made a face but accepted her fate as the chicken handler and made her way over to the chicken coops.

“Babs, you miss your folks much?” Applebloom asked quietly as they neared the barn entrance. Babs shrugged.

“We were never that close to be honest. But yeah I miss ‘em.” she looked suspiciously at her redheaded cousin. “Why?” Applebloom’s eyes wandered as she turned the key to unlock the barn doors.

“I was jus’ thinkin’ that’s all.”

“Oh.”

The barn’s interior, while it once was spacious with the only decor being farm tools and hay, had been transformed into a metal wonderland. Huge machines stood against the red wood walls of the structure, ropes held pots in place and conveyer belts were strung from machine to machine. Slanted shadows stretched across the barn’s oil stained floor and the dm lights did nothing to improve the atmosphere.

Everything was silent now and eerily still. Applebloom swallowed as she tried to not taste the acrid air, she should really be wearing a mask right now.

Faint traces of steam lingered in the humid barn, and cans of apples rested lazily in one huge pile.

“Look at this.” Applebloom said sadly her eyes tracing every metal edge and curve of the machines.  Babs bit her lip.

“It’s kinda sad.” she remarked, her tone soft with pity. Applebloom kicked a rust covered can and let out a frustrated yell through gritted teeth.

“It ain’t fair!” she spat, pressing buttons and pulling levers. The barn seemed to come alive, the sounds of pistons and clanging metal filling the dust filled air. Babs watched her cousin work for a few moments longer noting the way her hands worked the controls flawlessly, how effortlessly she lifted containers of water or how well she measured how much time between when each apple load dropped into the cooking pot.

“You’ve gotten better.” she said carefully. Applebloom glared at her.

“You could help too.” Babs sighed and nodded toward outside.

“I’ll check if the apple store is stocked up and if it isn’t I can go out and pick some more. I’ll get Scootaloo picking anyways.” Applebloom nodded and gave Babs a quick salute. Babs smiled and returned the gesture before scampering outside. “Oh and get yourself a mask!” she called as the door swung shut on her heels.

***

Scootaloo stretched her arm up into the depths of the apple tree her fingers closing carefully around the round fruit. With a twist and jerk the apple was in her hand and she set it into her bucket. The sun beat down on her neck and she could feel sweat soak the back of her t-shirt.  She chose to ignore the uncomfortable wetness and continue with her apple picking. After a few more apples and nursing a cramped arm, she stole a glance back at the barn where she could hear the ringing of metal on metal and the faint sound of some old country record, Applebloom’s favorite to be exact. Scootaloo knew that if the farm girl was playing those records, then she was pretty upset. She couldn’t blame her for acting like she was, she knew how connected Applebloom’s family had been and how losing her siblings must have made her feel. Scootaloo missed Rainbow Dash, her older sister and everyday she worried about whether or not she’d get the chance to see her again. This worry gnawed at her insides and twisted her thoughts giving her nightmares and infecting her waking thoughts from exhaustion. It had broken her about a year ago and she had just collapsed, shutting herself away from both Applebloom and Babs. It wasn’t a pleasant time for anybody on the farm and Scootaloo could remember the times when she’d felt hopeless. The times she’d fallen under the spell of the war’s misery when she’d seen no happy endings for anyone, and the time she had stood in front of the knife rack...

Applebloom had stayed strong for her, always standing tall when she needed someone to rely on and now Scootaloo had to be there for her best friend. She had to be strong too.

“Hello?” a new voice said, decidedly male. Scootaloo jerked around, surprised at such a visitor. Hardly anyone came by the farm anymore, the town being nearly deserted and all. Grumbling something the girl got down from the ladder and set down her basket. The man was tall and thin with a metal brace supporting his leg. His head was just beginning to show the fuzziness of a outgrown buzz cut. Piercing blue eyes stared down at her, tight lips pressed together nervously. “This is still Sweet Apple Acres right?” he stuttered looking at the swirls of smoke drifting above the treeline. Scootaloo crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. The man smiled in apparent relief. “That’s good. I thought I might have gone to the wrong place.” he rubbed the back of his neck as Scootaloo continued to frown. “Uh… is Big Mac here?” Scootaloo’s frown deepened.

“No.” she answered sharply hoping the man would go away. Confusion spread across the man’s face.

“Really? I thought he worked on this farm.” Scootaloo sighed.

“He did, at least three years ago.” The man frowned, shifting his weight as he looked back at the farmhouse and barn.

“Where is he then?” Scootaloo wanted to punch him, the man was getting on her nerves.

“He’s in the war you idiot! Everybody is!” she spat angrily. The man’s eyes went wide and he stepped back.

“He’s in the war?” he asked quietly. Scootaloo nodded irritably.

“Yeah, why aren’t you?” the man shrugged.

“I was injured pretty bad, can’t fight well enough anymore. They sent me home.” Scootaloo nodded eyeing his leg.

“But you can still walk can’t you? You don’t look that bad.” Anger flickered behind the man’s blue gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring the younger girl.

“I’ve healed.” he stated simply. “Besides, you wouldn’t understand. I’ve lost more than my ability to walk properly.” The girl hefted the apple basket.

“I’ve lost things too mister and if you don’t mind I have chores to do.” she brushed past him and marched toward the barn.

“Wait!” the man called, “Is Applejack here?” Scootaloo froze turning around slowly. The man’s breathing was labored as he caught up with her. “I want to talk to her.”

“She’s gone too dude, the only Apples that live here now are Applebloom, Granny and Babs.” Shock rippled across the man’s face as he registered the fact.

“W-What? AJ’s in the war as well?” he said quietly. The young girl nodded, confused at the man’s concern.

“Weren’t you in the army?” she accused. “Didn’t you see them?” The man shook his head looking troubled.

“No, I wasn’t in the army. I was in the navy and well...I honestly didn’t know they were drafted.” his eyes pleaded with her, begging her to believe him. Scootaloo sighed.

“It’s fine mister, but I actually have stuff to do so if that’s all you're here for…” she trailed off watching his face fall.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you be...but may I please visit Granny? I want to at least speak with her.” Scootaloo shrugged.

“Only if she lets you. She’s kinda unpredictable when it comes to soldiers these days. Keeps thinking that they’re coming to tell her some sorta terrible news.” The man nodded slowly before turned toward the farm house.

“She’s at the house, right?” Scootaloo nodded.

“Yeah so see ya!” she said walking off with her basket, a feeling of dread overwhelming her thoughts.