Chapters "War does not determine who is right - only who is left."
~Bertrand Russell
Once upon a time...we used to win.
There was once a time in our seemingly peaceful and dull lives where we knew what it was like to have fun, to laugh and love - to live the way we were truly meant to live.
Hoofball games visited by the thousands upon thousands. Bowling tournaments participated in with friends and common strangers. Raves that shook the whole building, everyone getting down on their hooves and really living the scene up.
Family and local cookouts, where all were welcome, and all attended to enjoy a peaceful day with everypony and anypony, regardless if they held them dear in their hearts or saw them as mere neighbors.
And then - sometimes, at one bright chance in one's life - there were the Wonderbolts.
They were merely nothing more than a walking tourist attraction to the public, travelling all across the land of Equestria to entertain the masses, shock them in mere awe.
Inspire.
They were just that for me.
They were my heroes. For a long time, I always wanted to be like them, grow up to prove myself, my worth to them, to join their ranks and show the world what it was to be a Wonderbolt.
I wanted that for a long time.
...
Then - one day, everything had changed.
The world and every single individual life had been turned on its head and thrown into the frying pan of war.
It was told in legend that a thousand years ago, a once great domain had been plagued with evil and tyranny. Its ponies were dragged down into slavery, forced to work themselves until their dying breath. They didn't rebel, they didn't fight back - they simply obeyed.
Because the only alternate solution was nothing more than death itself.
This once great kingdom was known as the Crystal Empire, one of the largest of its time.
And then Sombra had come along. Once a prosperous king - greed and power led him to abuse his rule. His magic grew, becoming darker as he grew himself with age.
Then one day, he conquered the empire without the faintest of trouble. His rule troubled and degraded the population for no more than twenty years.
But when the time came, when it was the true moment - the Two Sisters were able to banish King Sombra to the frozen north for a thousand years, with the hope of preserving what was left of the Crystal Empire.
However - he didn't leave without one final act of revenge.
With the dark magic shrouded within him, Sombra placed a curse on the empire. In mere moments, the land was shrouded in darkness. When the darkness lifted - the Crystal Empire was gone, cursed to vanish from the world for as long as the King was banished.
It was also said that after a millennium had passed, the empire would rise again - and so would Sombra.
But the ponies of old believed that when the day came, a great leader, a testament to the Sisters, would push back the forces of evil and truly preserve the land.
The Crystal Ponies would truly be able to live once again.
...
The day did come soon enough. The empire appeared once again through the thickness of the northern snow, and revealed the green pureness that was the Crystal Empire, for the first time in a thousand years.
Princess Cadance of Canterlot quickly took to the opportunity to create a defense barrier around the city, in the hopes of keeping it safe.
And almost as if they had expected it - the King himself came back within a day of the princess's arrival.
He had grown in strength, and his magic was much darker than the last time anyone had seen him.
Cadance was strong, she was determined to hold the line, protect the empire with her dying breath.
But unfortunately, not even she could hold back the dark King.
With the faintest of effort - Cadance succumbed to his being.
And with hardly a smidgen of trying - King Sombra once more ruled the Crystal Empire with an iron hoof. The ponies, young and old, were turned into warfighters - soldiers with the intent to conquer and kill those who opposed his rule.
And they would do just that.
By the time the news of the empire's fall to Sombra - and, unfortunately, Cadance's death to her newlywed - had reached the city of Canterlot, Sombra's soldiers had already invaded and taken control of three cities along the east: Baltimare, Hoofington, and Manehattan, all of them holding millions of innocents.
And those millions of innocents were now millions of mind-controlled barbarians who followed the order of the King.
"Conquer."
The Sisters were quick to declare war on the tyrant. Captain Shining Armor sent a mass battalion of soldiers north, towards the empire itself, to combat the slaves.
Hell - that was where most of the war took place.
I didn't go there at first. When I was drafted, I was shipped east, towards Detrot, when it was only then suffering few casualties.
As a child - like I said - I always wanted to grow up and become a Wonderbolt.
Instead - I officially became a soldier of the Royal Service. The Guard only protected the princesses and them only. The Service, I, protected the rest of the country.
With nothing but a suit of armor and the confidence my friends had in me, I was off within a day of being called forward to fight. A whole array of pegasi - perhaps thirty, if I'm correct - flew through the clouds and through the smoke. And when the city came into view...
It was as if the world was ending, fallen apart we were trying to pick up the pieces.
And I had every intention of doing so.
The war for Detrot was long and tiring. The elements of the war, and the elements of the weather at the time made the battle much harder to push through. Left and right, we were losing soldiers - and as we were losing soldiers, innocents were forced into the King's ranks.
Downtown wasn't a safe place to be, whether you were in the street or in a building. Every part of it became a battleground between slaves and soldiers.
And the bodies...
We pushed forward for weeks. I was confined to nothing more than a sleeping bag in a subway tunnel that constantly shook with running hooves and cannons blasting every which way.
Not that the cannons did much.
But despite our efforts, our will to take back the city - our time in Detrot ended when we were ambushed at night. A cold winter storm forced us to huddle close to one another for protection from the freezing air.
It gave them the opportunity to try and kill us when we were all bunched up. I couldn't help but admit - it was a clever tactic.
It was how I even lost my wing to begin with.
There were fifty-three of us in that tunnel, all trying to protect and block each other from our enemies.
Less than fifteen actually survived - me included, of course.
I know some of them - some that I know - are among the ranks of slaves now.
We were forced to retreat into the tunnels, carry ourselves out of the city limits. I didn't even know I lost my wing until we arrived at a refugee camp - miles away.
When I saw that little...stub that was supposed to be my wing...
My luscious wing...
I felt broken. I wanted to break down and cry there and then. Initially, I was afraid of them seeing me as nothing more than weak. No one ever cried in the Service.
But the way Halberd talked to me...the things he said...
I held him for a while, just crying in his shoulder.
And no one looked down on me.
They knew me as a brash, overconfident, and determined fighter.
But that one night only solidified one fact-...
We were all someone.
At the end of the day - we were all just another civilian, another victim...
Another casualty amongst the rest.
It took a week, maybe two, to fit another wing where mine used to be. The new one was cold and metallic against my body. It was uncomfortable - so very uncomfortable.
It just wasn't the same.
But I had to grow to it. I had to get used to it.
And I did.
It took me a while to be able to fly again, or even learn how to fly with the then-new wing. Until that day came where I could soar with the rest - I was restricted to the ground forces, who invaded low while the rest invaded high - it was our common tactic.
In the time it took for them to build my wing and attach it to my body, we lost two more cities - Detrot and Trottingham, both holding millions on their own. Every day that passed was another million or more civilians falling to Sombra and rising up as his soldiers - his slaves.
His army grew, and it seemed like with every day, we were losing.
But then there was the Militia. Common citizens who were not yet drafted rose up alongside us in the months after the war had started. Young and old, they stood out amongst the crowd, carrying their flags, wearing their insignias. Many of them who joined had no experience like the Guard or the Service - but they definitely knew how to fight.
And fight they did.
At month three, the city of Vanhoover had been invaded - and within just a single day, its citizens were able to successfully push them back. It was a difficult time for all of them - but in the end, they prevailed.
Equestria's flag continued to hang on the city's capitol building after that day.
Many of its civilians were congratulated by the Sisters themselves, many of them granted medals of courage and honor.
And after that historic day - we stopped losing.
But we weren't winning. Both sides were stuck on a simple edge. No one was winning, and yet, no one was losing. Every time the King tried to push against us, we pushed back - but it was always the same spot we were stuck on.
The battles for cities and towns went on longer than we hoped. It led to more casualties, more injuries, more destruction to our land.
Then we heard reports that citizens were not just being converted into slaves - they were executed if they refused or attempted to flee.
We needed to win.
We really needed to.
By the time I could fly again, we had been fighting this war for no more than a year. I had rarely seen my friends, my family, the ponies that I cared for - I only focused on keeping them safe.
And by then, by the end of a single year - I wasn't the same mare who walked into battle for the first time.
I was a true soldier.
In the beginning, I was able to take on two or three slaves at a single time, but nothing more. As soon as I could fly once again, I could take on multiple slaves at any given point - with the help of others, of course.
To me, I believed that I had some involvement in the way the battle had turned, because at that point in time - we were starting to move it in our favor.
We were beginning to take back cities, save as many of the slaves as we could have, raise our flags to declare our victory. Initially, it was tough and difficult to push through - but in the end, we still pushed.
At the end of year one, we were able to take back Hoofington and Baltimare within a month's time with as little casualties as possible. It was a definite first for the time. Soldiers and civilians alike were overjoyed. They couldn't believe they were actually gaining an advantage.
Princess Celestia, ruler of the sun, used this as a chance to launch a full-out assault on the Crystal Empire, a final attempt to - once and for all - defeat King Sombra.
She didn't begin the assault until three months into the second year, until the month of May. During the time we had, we prepared, trained ourselves - trained others to fight like us and defend like we had done.
We wanted to be ready for the day that would then come.
My friend - Applejack was her name - drafted herself in.
Applejack was a proud apple farmer at Sweet Apple Acres, in the town of Ponyville. I never truly lived in those places, but my home was close enough to it that it could technically classify as my home.
Before the war had begun, Applejack was nothing more than an apple farmer, bucking trees and collecting apples to sell to whatever customers rolled by. She and her family made a decent living.
Come after the war has started - her once green orchard was now a cold, metallic, soulless factory, producing canned apples for every soldier who was fighting or would fight - it was essentially an apple MRE.
She told me that she joined because she...
She didn't want that to become her legacy. She didn't want to be a slave in her own home, produce nothing but junk while the world was falling apart around her. She wanted to be free again.
She wanted to live.
And so I trained her.
I trained her how to defend herself, how to strike back when the time was right - how to move against the enemy. I taught her when, where, and how to run.
I taught her how to not end up like one of them.
And she listened to every word that came out of my mouth.
Soon enough - she was like me in lesser time than I had done. Soon enough, she was ready to go to war for her family, for her friends.
For me.
Within a few months, one and a half years since the war came down upon us - we were winning. We were taking back towns and cities left to right. It allowed us to head north. Whatever invasions began in spots across the country, the Militia was able to take care of it or die trying. At that point, the war was waged across Equestria, but it was never as serious as it had been before.
And at that same time - Celestia gave the order.
The assault on the Crystal Empire had begun.
By the thousands, soldiers, Militia members - me...Applejack...Pinkie - we all charged the city. When we arrived, a great wall, a barrier ranging a hundred feet in height blocked us from entering.
Whoever could fly simply flew over and dive-bombed them.
Those who couldn't rammed the front gates to the ground, creating a plume of dust that blinded the enemy at close range.
A perfect opportunity.
Every slave we saved from the helmet that imprisoned them, we had our soldiers escort them to safety - away from the horror and the bloodshed.
Within mere minutes, we were already a fourth of the way to the King's castle.
And with each moment we had to look at the scenery - the sadder I could have been.
A year's worth of plant-life and accumulation had settled on the streets of the empire. Cracks now plagued the once shiny roads, plants and grasses were beginning to show. Windows were broken and even some of the buildings seemed burnt, indicating fires had once circulated their way through.
And not once did I see a single crystal pony - at least, not without those helmets on their heads.
It was always a feeling of justice in my body every time we took off a helmet.
Those looks of joy on their faces...
For an hour, we punched and kicked and ran our way through the masses of slaves. Those who were able to be saved, we saved.
And those who weren't...
Soon enough, we were at the base of the castle, ramming our way through the doors and bashing our way up the stairs - not stopping, never stopping until we met the bastard face to face.
And we were sure Celestia was right there with us to see it come.
It took twenty minutes to get ourselves to the top of the high castle. Hundreds of feet upward, and every entrance and portion of it guarded by slaves, not even the pegasi could simply fly upward without risking casualties to either themselves or the slaves.
But we didn't give up, we didn't fall back, even when we had the chance and the choice. We just pushed onward.
And it was nothing more than an absolute pleasure to bust down the doors that would lead us to the throne of the King himself.
He wasn't surprised - but he wasn't ready either.
The King and the Princess fought with an intense vigor to each burst of magic that came from their horns. The few soldiers that were there didn't dare intervene, but simply rescued the few slaves that were in that room. Everyone else was determined to rescue any that they could.
But within just minutes of those doors flying off their hinges - I watched, first-hoof, the defeat of King Sombra. With a single beam from the Sister's horn, the malevolent creature had been seemingly vaporized into thin air, reduced to nothing but a shroud of dust and ash, before too disappearing - his screams echoing into nothing.
The battle was finally over.
The war was finally won.
We had finally won.
The Crystal Empire had been ruled by the ponies once more, the proud flag of Equestria flying once again in the wind.
A year of tyrannical rule, a year of suffering, a year of war...
It was over.
And then Sombra cursed us.
And the Crystal Plague was born.
It was more or less a final resort by the King himself - right before we turned him into nothingness, he had one more act of vengeance against us as a whole, as a nation, as a race itself.
He wanted to take us with him.
And he did just that.
Celestia was the only case at the time. By the time we were back at Canterlot to confirm our victory of the war - almost everyone on the train, in the skies, anywhere on the way home, was sick. By the time they noticed, potentially hundreds were sick.
By the time they went home to their families in the following two days - thousands.
Maybe even millions by then.
It spread like a flu. It acted like a flu. Coughs, sniffles, sneezing, pain, headaches, diarrhea, seizures - worse and worse, ponies suffered quickly. Within three days since our victory...
Well, it wasn't really a victory anymore.
It didn't even matter.
The plague became the news of the nation. It spread to everyone, of all races, genders, ages. Ponies, dragons, gryphons - side by side, they were all getting sick. Reporters were describing millions of citizens flocking to the hospitals, and they couldn't even get their own rooms, they were so crowded.
At first, it was believed it was restricted to just Equestria, even with dragons and gryphons getting sick.
But once it was confirmed in the Gryphon Kingdom, Saddle Arabia, YakYakistan, panic began to spread.
For the first three or so days, there were protests against rations, demands for Service action, word of the Sisters' condition - anything to ease the public mind.
But nothing was able to ease them, no matter what any of us said, or what the Guard said, or what even Princess Luna herself had said. Of course, that was before she too became sick with the illness.
As the third day came and passed - ponies were already beginning to hope that this plague would pass us by, like every other plague before it - and that they would prevail once again.
They hoped they would be okay.
And then Princess Luna died in her chambers.
Her body was bloated, torn, bleeding from her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her nose - her face permanently stuck in a fixture of agony.
When they found her - they found the shards protruding from her mouth...from her nose...
Hundreds of tiny, little, piercing shards of crystals.
Hell just broke loose.
Cities, towns, villages - the streets weren't fit to be on, not even Ponyville. Riots quickly became a common thing. And with Luna's death came thousands more as the plague finally began to claim the sick. Young and old, male and female - they were all dying the same way.
And it was painful.
Very painful.
The Militia was no longer a thing - at least, that's what the radios were saying. Its members disbanded and went to find their families. The Royal Guard protected the royal chambers where the Sisters laid in sickness. The Service soon enough disbanded too. A lot of the soldiers did the same thing, go and find their families, their friends.
If they even survived the war...that is.
What did I do?
I went back home - to Ponyville.
It was chaos. Everywhere I looked, ponies were either looting, fighting each other, or simply just...trying to enjoy a stroll. To me, that was the saddest part. The world was ending around them - or, it very well seemed like it - and you could still see some ponies trying to have one last normal day.
It honestly hurt to see that.
Everyone that I knew in town either left, died, was dying, or fighting for their life someplace. Pinkie - she was hardly called that...always went by Diane... - she went AWOL before anyone died, her sister went with her. It could be anyone's guess where she went - her family home, another place where they could be safe...
Died...
Rarity - I hadn't seen her in years. She always had a sense for fashion as a kid. Left for Manehattan years ago, and hadn't heard from her since. For all I knew, she was dead too.
Her old home sure as hell wasn't hers again.
I just hoped her sister was okay too.
Fluttershy...she was too afraid to join - not that they would have drafted her anyway. I don't know what happened to her. The last time I heard about her, she went back to her parents when the war first broke out. Taking care of them, I hope.
I hoped she was okay as well.
AJ and I had gone back home, to her farm. She had to see them.
See if they were okay.
But we got there.
All of them...in their beds.
She saw the shards in their mouths.
Apple Bloom...
She screamed, kicked, punched the walls, nothing more than a blind fury leading her - until she could do no more than break down and cry.
That was all she could do then.
Just cry and cry, until she could cry no more.
I didn't leave her.
I stayed and held her - comforted her.
I held her close and dared to not let her go.
Then she coughed.
But I didn't leave her. Within just hours, the symptoms came to her, almost as if all at once. She was coughing, sneezing, vomiting even. She was still strong enough and didn't choose to go out laying down.
With whatever strength was in her, she went out to the field the next day.
And she started bucking trees.
It had been a long time since she had done it. She missed the feeling of it - she just loved watching the apples fall to the ground.
When she picked one up and ate it...
She smiled again.
It didn't last long, though. By the third day she had been sick, her body was already weak. She couldn't run anymore, couldn't buck the trees. Hell, she was hardly able to walk right, or even upright.
And yet...
I was still just fine. I hugged her when she coughed, I was close enough to be able to suffer like her.
But I was still feeling just fine, and she...
That night, when she was lying in her bed...when I was saying that...saying that not just to her - to the walls, the ceiling, the gods above who just watched this all happen...
She grabbed me.
And she held me close...
Just enough for our lips to meet.
It was something I never expected - especially not from her. Never had I experienced feelings for another mare, not even Applejack...
But it just felt so comforting.
When our lips parted - all she could do was ask me something so...simple.
"...Promise me you'll be safe...okay? ...That you'll make it?"
How?
How could I be so sure that I would? That I could?
I mean...she...
...
I nodded.
"Okay."
The tears were welled up, but I kept them in as long as I could.
I didn't want her to see me cry.
I couldn't.
"It's okay."
I broke down in front of her. I never did that.
But it was okay.
She fell asleep not long after that.
Then she died within the hour.
I wanted to leave the room, I didn't want to see it happen.
But I didn't want her to die a...alone.
I held her hoof tightly.
I watched her as her eyes dilated, blood came pouring out of her mouth as she puked, as she convulsed. I saw little shards come spewing out, and her body bloated.
But I still held on, even when they pierced her skin - made her bleed all over.
She shook and seized, but couldn't even scream. Blood and shards pooled in her mouth.
Her throat rattled.
And like that - she was gone.
I slept downstairs, on the couch.
Well....tried.
It was like I was shell shocked. I lost all...possible ways to react, to feel, to...to know.
I didn't want to believe it. I just didn't.
But no matter how hard I screamed, or kicked, or begged - it was real.
It happened.
It would happen again.
When the morning came along, I dug four holes on the side of the house. It took me a long time to drag them out, one by one.
I shook and stumbled with each step. Tears were coming along again, but I-...
No.
It was noon by the time I finished filling her hole with dirt. I marked each grave with a stone and wrote each of their names on them.
When I was done, I walked into their home and waited for the time to pass. I didn't know what I was waiting for or why I was waiting for it. Perhaps I was waiting to die in a way.
Perhaps I...
I wanted to die.
She didn't want me to. She wouldn't want it.
And so I chose to live - even when I thought against it.
Whenever I turned the radio on, all it would do was inform me that another city, another town, had fallen to the plague. Ponies were still dying all about, doctors had given up on a cure, again and again...
By the time the host himself had gotten sick, it'd been at least two weeks. By then - most of Ponyville was dead. The power had died in the first week, and I found myself digging water from a well and bathing myself with said well water - which was a lot more effort...considering the tub was upstairs.
Before the host died, he chose to keep his station running for a long time - he played his songs on loops, large playlists, with the intention to run for months, maybe even years, if the conditions were right.
It didn't even last a week before it went off.
As for my home, I did return to it at a point.
It wasn't even looted or destroyed. It was still there, just floating in the sky near the town. Things still worked as they had, and everything looked clean as they had.
Tank - my pet turtle, hm... - he was okay. Fluttershy had taken care of him when I had been away.
And...apparently, he made his way back here all by himself, just feeding on whatever he could.
Durable little bugger, he is.
...
I couldn't believe I forgot him.
...
I took him back to the farm with me. As for the house - I merely pushed it along until it was right over the orchard itself. High enough so that nopony could see it and take advantage - and low enough so coming back down to the orchard was never a hassle.
Tank and I - we stayed on the orchard for weeks, harvesting the apples from their trees, collecting the water from the well, listening in on whatever radio stations remained open.
We were making it pretty well.
We could have stayed there as long as possible.
And so we did.
For a long time, her home eventually became my home, but I never changed anything but the bedsheets - everything was exactly how it was when she...
...
As time went on, I grew to accustom myself to the new world, to the ponies who lived in it. I had faced the good, and I had also faced the bad.
I only ever scavenged for medicine.
The orchard was all that I generally needed.
It could be my home for a long time.
And I could be okay.
Just like she hoped.
Just like I promised.
Then - one day - I got a signal on the radio.
Somewhere...out there, in the three-thousand miles of land, ruin, and anarchy...there was a supposed safe haven. A place where any and all were welcome, a place where everyone was safe.
A place run by a princess, no less - so surely, there was some form of order, of civilization.
For a couple of weeks, this signal grew only stronger, and I wanted to believe it. I really did.
I pondered and pondered. Was I really going to try and see, for myself, if it was truly worth as it says?
When the time finally had come - I made my decision.
With enough time upon me, I collected my belongings, food, water, anything she owned that I could use - anything I owned that I could use.
Tank was hesitant. I could see it clearly. I was too.
But even if I could stay at the orchard forever - it didn't mean I'd be able to protect it, and my home...
Well...I can't drag it behind me forever.
I had to let go.
That was all I could do.
And so I did.
With enough on my back to carry me on for a good, long time - I left Sweet Apple Acres for what seemed to be the last time in my life. It pained me so much, the grief only came back harder.
But I needed to do it.
I just had to.
So with a hopeful stride of confidence - my journey finally had begun.
And then I met him.
Author's Note
I've been wanting to do an alternate timeline story for a while (Regret and After don't count), and seeing the potential for the Crystal War timeline was something I couldn't resist.
Also, War Dash is hot. /)3(\
Also, I'm doing this at 5 o'clock in the morning. Go me.
So yeah, this is set in a postwar, post-apocalyptic timeline. Slightly different, some characters know each other that apparently don't in the show's version.
Also, eyy, author's notes at the end.
alsosorrytheendingisrushedasshit
"Please your eye and plague your heart."
-William Cobbett
Three Months Later
From the Perspective of Another
The days were always the same routine. I'd get up, put on my gear, go out and scavenge what was left, settle down for the night(s), and repeat. Gone were the days that I would listen to that damned radio. Why would I waste my breath twisting a knob for hours at a time to static and looping messages of the dead?
Today, this morning seemed to be no different from the rest in weeks.
The morning sun shone through the blinds of the window, forcing me to wake from sleep. It had to have been no less than nine in the morning. I could hear the sound of birds chirping, the wind blowing - and maybe even the sound of a couple of dogs barking in the distance. I never minded the sound of nature going on outside my window - but to be fair, it was annoying to wake up to, no matter how early or late I woke up.
As soon as I had gained the strength to move, I lifted myself out of the warm covers of the bed and plopped myself onto all fours, stretching as I went. Once all of my bones were cracked as needed, I walked my way over to the nearby dresser and looked into the mirror.
My mane was such a mess. It'd been days since I gave it any proper brushing or grooming - whatever the likely term was. Even a few pushes and slides up and down didn't do it any favors or changes. Not even a single drawer or cupboard in the house had a hairbrush or comb.
Perhaps someone took them a while ago...?
With a sigh through my nose, I grabbed my armor that had been sitting on the dresser top and began to fortify myself, tying and wrapping arm and leg pieces around until they were on just right. I saved the chest piece for last, being much easier to put on than everything else. The mirror also helped wonders, thankfully.
Once I was sure everything was fitted right, I grabbed my gas mask, but decided not to put it on right away, not wanting to waste the filter when it wasn't needed. I hooked it to my belt strap and headed back over to the bed to grab my backpack - more of a duffle bag, really - before making my way into the hallway.
I'd been familiar with this place, this house, for no more than a week or two. If it hadn't been all the more obvious - this isn't my home. I'm far from home. At the time of the war, I was a simple civilian, probably like the ponies who once lived here, living in Seaddle before being drafted. Within a few months after I had left - the whole city had fallen to the King. It was reclaimable, and had been at a point.
But after the plague came and went-...
It's all just rubble and smoldering ruin now. A lot of the cities did that - thought it would somehow push back the plague, and yet, all it did was leave millions without homes, just to die on the streets.
But I wasn't there to see it happen. I was here, nearly two thousand miles away, eating food from dead strangers' pantries and trying to get by while everyone else killed each other or died to the plague itself. The radios went out, the lights came second, and then...
Then it was just a whole different world after it got quiet.
This house - from what I can tell, it belonged to just the average family. Husband, wife...young daughter.
All of them dead to the plague by the time I got here.
I just closed their doors and tried to ignore it.
But no amount of air fresheners or sprays or any possible methods could shield me from the smell that was already beginning to form. I noticed it a few days ago - hardly pungent, hardly noticeable unless you were real close.
Now all you had to do was just walk up to the second floor; no matter where you were, the smell was there to haunt you, and unless you were uninformed - you knew exactly what it was and where it came from.
I had no clear intention to stay here forever in this place. I had already picked their cabinets clean with what remained. Sure, their windows had been boarded up, and the place seemed defensible enough...
But it was nothing more than a grave, and all I was doing was defiling it the longer I stayed.
Today, I was going to leave this place and move on, just like I had in the days and weeks before.
And I was not coming back.
Why would I?
With the things I needed, I was downstairs in a short time, but before I left, I made one last inspection - in case I had missed any possible cans or non-perishables. As soon as it was finalized, I was standing at the front door. Not forgetting, I grabbed my mask from my belt and applied it to my head, making sure it was airtight along the edges.
It'd been weeks since I came into any direct contact with either the infected or...goddesses forbid, their bodies. But there was always the risk that the air was still not clear, or clear enough that I could breathe it in without perhaps catching it. Of course, this only applied to areas, like a town or a city. Had I been out in the countryside or far out from any form of civilization, then I'd be more than glad to breathe in the freshness.
If only I had been born as a Pegasus instead. Hm.
If only.
With a simple grip and twist, I pulled the door open and almost immediately, I was greeted with the brightness of the outside world. As I slowly walked forward, all that stood before me was just another ghost town, inhabited by the cadavers of the once prosperous folk.
Cornwall back in the day, from what I found from the now empty town hall, was a popular town at least four decades ago. Ponies of all races, ages, and origins would visit and make themselves proper company for days, even weeks at a time. It was popular for, almost solely, its cheerful mood. Everyone you met was either giving a kind smile or wanting to simply "have a grand time."
I had heard about Cornwall from time to time, on the occasion neighbors or anyone else living in Seaddle who had visited it at one point, but it was commonly few and far between. I always planned to visit the place one day, maybe share some experiences myself.
But now - Cornwall is nothing more than a hollow shell of what it used to be. Its shops and houses are boarded up, every window and nearly ever door barricaded as a resort to protect belongings. All kinds of trash and garbage litter the streets, sidewalks and roads. Some windows that weren't blocked off were smashed in, if the glass on the grounds were any indication.
However, I think the worst of it were the bodies. The ponies of Cornwall seemed to strive to protect the town initially, keep its spirits up not just during the war, but also during the plague. Some of the walls of buildings were plastered with posters that promoted all kinds of peace and hope - they clearly didn't want a panic.
Of course, that probably all went down the drain as soon as the sick started to die as they...did.
Many of the deceased, many of them either face down or belly up, had crystals protruding from their mouths and noses. Sometimes, even the eyes were nothing more than bits of gems and diamond shards. Whatever wasn't destroyed by the shards was picked at by the buzzards and broken down by nature and the animal kingdom itself.
But the smell.
That never leaves you. Never left me.
With the mask, the pungent smell that roars over the town is almost completely sealed off and filtered at every breath, so long as the filter still works. The current filter had another good few hours worth in it; that was plenty of time to find another one - easier nowadays than before the war.
Even though I had been living in Cornwall for hardly over a week, I had already just about scavenged what was left to scavenge that wasn't already picked clean by everyone else. It was a literal hollow shell. I figured it was best to search one last time for anything left and leave before high noon.
So off I was into the heart of Cornwall. The Plaza, it was only basically called, was a mass common hangout for the majority of the folk either living here or visiting. Whatever parties or events were held in town, they were held right here.
The Plaza nowadays now greets any newcomer with body bags upon body bags, quarantine tents, barricades and blockades, guard towers, fences - either standing or knocked down. It was controlled with the intention of becoming a treatment center for the infected, a way to maybe contain the spread.
Of course - it didn't work.
I treaded carefully around the place, over every bag and around every barrier, hoping to make the least noise possible. Last I recall, this area was rampant with wild dogs - relentless and could tear someone apart without even hesitating. The last thing I wanted was to make noise and draw them right to me, even if I can outrun them.
With luck on my side, however, I was able to make it to where I wanted to go quietly. A Service tent was in the center of the plaza, a common place to find weapons, medicine - and filters.
Now - you might be wondering, why the filters? Why did the Service have them?
Chemical warfare, of course. During the peak of the war, the King had the idea of creating some form of "dirty bomb" that would basically kill you from the inside if inhaled. The Service gave out mandatory gas masks for every citizen, only to be used in the event of some kind of biological or, in this case, chemical attack.
It was hardly used - and so were the masks, even when they were needed the most.
Of course, a few of the bodies I had come across had masks still worn on their faces - that could have been any number of reasons.
I just hope that...
Shaking the thought away, I kept moving and carefully entered the tent. The sunlight was shining just fine through the open flaps, so my flashlight stayed off.
The tent, though it did show signs of looting, still had a decent share of supplies within. Enough antibiotics for a couple of weeks and some canned beans.
Now if I could only find some...aha!
One of the open boxes contained three remaining filters that hadn't even been used yet. They could keep me going for a long while if I kept them safe. Weeks, months maybe - though I'm sure at some point, it will be safe to breathe in the streets again. I mean - for all I know, the air really is harmless.
But I'm not gonna take the risk just on a thought, so the mask stays on until otherwise.
I grabbed the three filters and put them in my backpack carefully and quietly. With an unsure conscience, I decided at the last moment to do one final sweep of the place to be sure I had everything I came for.
As soon as I was certain, I started making my way to the nearest exit.
Then I stopped the moment I heard something.
What is that? Sounds like something's...moving.
There's no way it could be survivors. Hasn't been one here in weeks, why would there be any-...
Wait...no...shit, not now!
My movement was slower; I basically sneaked my way over to the door flap. With a calm, gentle push of my hoof, I carefully opened up the flap just a tiny bit.
Sure enough, my fears came true.
"Dogs."
The dogs were back. No way they could have heard me? Is it my scent? Did they track my scent?
The once domesticated creatures were now crawling their way around row upon row of body bags, one after the next - sniffing and pawing at them as if looking for their next meal.
Sure enough, that's what they were doing once they sniffed the right one.
They hadn't noticed me...thank Celestia.
But they did notice a meal.
A slightly bigger body bag, bigger than the rest, was almost immediately torn open by the canines' sharp, vast incisors, cutting it open like they were scissors. As soon as the bag was open enough, the corpse of a unicorn came rolling out, clearly bloated from advanced decomposition, almost as if it was ready to-...
With one immediate bite from one of the dogs, the bloated stomach popped like zit, splattering its contents onto the ground and all over one of the canines - and they didn't even mind it, which...made it all the more...
More...
I turned away. I couldn't look at it, the sight was so...gross, for a lack of words. It took all the willpower in me not to throw up. I gagged, I threw silent coughing fits - but I didn't vomit.
I couldn't.
With a brief inhale of the filtered air, I looked back to the scene. Sure enough, the dogs were well into their meal, feasting on the rotting organs and peeling the skin off like a spoiled orange. All the while - the face of that unicorn...
That stallion...he didn't wince, he didn't scream, he didn't cry in agony or try to fight.
All he did was stare.
I carefully closed the flap and tried to think of a plan, assess the situation. The dog population was few and far between in Cornwall nowadays - but goddess, those fuckers will sprint like athletes whenever a sound goes off and some kind of opportunity arises.
It was already a pain to get in here; now I needed to get out without alerting a bunch of pony-eating devils.
Again, for lack of better words.
At this point, I had three options, two of them shit.
Option one - I wait it out. Wait for them to eat their meal, dig around a bit more, then wander off some other place, and get out of dodge as quick as I can.
Option two - I sneak out from the back. Take the chance and be careful not to make any noise and just sneak my way out of town.
Then there's option three - make a run for it and don't stop until I'm out of town.
One is a shit idea. Who knows how long they'll be there before they're full or bored?
As for three, the fact that they're not starving by a long shot means they could probably chase me for miles if they wanted to until one of us got tired. And with my backpack full of weeks worth of food and air filters - I'm pretty sure I'd be the first to go.
And I don't plan on becoming a dessert meal for a bunch of dog.
So...
Option two it is, I guess.
With a calm exhale, I started to slowly creep my way to the back of the tent, hoping to stay as quiet as I could. My hooves didn't clip-clop on the ground as much as they usually had, which worked wonders for me at the moment.
But it was my backpack that was more of a problem. The contents inside were moving gently and very faintly clanking about. I only worried something loud would move and cause them to turn their heads.
"Don't make a sound, don't make a sound..."
I felt it was better to just shut up. For all I know, I was gonna end up-
*clank!*
Fuck.
A metal bucket, part of the garbage piles on the ground, clanged loudly as I kicked my hoof into it. It hurt a bit, but the sound worried me.
Immediately, I froze in my tracks and listened.
The shuffling stopped, and the dogs were quiet. It was likely they were listening in, maybe thinking whether or not to investigate. Hopefully, they wouldn't and would just go back to whatever the hell they were doing.
Please do that, I'd rather not deal with this.
I tried to breathe quieter in order to listen better. They were starting to move again, but only very slowly. It didn't seem like they were inching their way towards the tent, but rather - circling it. Were they trying to find an entrance, maybe?
I knew it was only a matter of time before they did decide to wander on in and catch me in the spotlight, so I had to act fast. Do I keep on sneaking? Or do I make a run for it and hope I lose them eventually? Cornwall was big, but there were only so many places I could hide or take cover from anything, dogs or not.
My chances of fighting them and coming out the victor was slim to none - there were total of five, maybe six dogs. Six vicious, bloodthirsty hounds with massive chompers that could easily tear into something without even trying?
That was a losing battle, not even an argument.
But I've gotta get out of here, out of town. If I thought the dogs were bad, I'm not sticking around when or if something worse rolls by.
Okay...don't make a sound.
I got up from my sitting position - I hadn't even noticed I was sitting - and started to advance once again to the back exit, while looking more at the ground this time around so I didn't bump into anything loud. It was commonly cans that made the fuss, but there was sometimes a bucket or, up ahead, an empty barrel. I simply moved out of the way, and they weren't even a problem.
After a tense minute, though it felt longer, I finally made it to the exit. Before blindly walking out, I gently let loose a flap and looked out with a single eye.
More body bags, more barriers and guard towers.
No dogs. Good, they were still on the other side.
With a quickness to it, I started to unzip the flap just enough to fit myself through. One hoof in front of the other, I started to gently hop my way through the flap. I was thankfully quiet and careful enough that my bag didn't make the noise I initially expected of it.
I might actually get away from this.
But as I was slipping my last leg through, I noticed something on the ground right below me.
A bear trap.
Too late.
My leg fell free from its hanging on the flap and straight onto the pressure plate. In an instant, the metal teeth of the trap clamped onto my leg. The second my brain registered what happened, my whole body shook with the pain, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.
It hadn't been the first time that I was caught in a bear trap - but how could anyone expect to be accustomed to this pain, on this register of that very word?
My eyes were blinking rapidly as tears quickly started to roll down. I fell to the ground, and the contents of my backpack immediately started to shake and clang about.
It was a fucking dinner bell, that's what it was.
I had to get out of here, fucking fuck, had to get out! This fucking pain...!
That was when the adrenaline kicked in, and at the best time.
With all the strength I could muster, I grabbed both sides of the trap and started to pull them apart. The pain sensors of my leg were going into overload, but I couldn't just stop. Any second now, those dogs were going to come around that corner and rip me apart like a steak.
That only made me pull harder.
Come on, come on...!
As the sound of a great clank filled my ears, my leg was finally free from the trap's clutches. I immediately lifted my leg out and let go, the trap instantly clamping down, but on air.
I took a brief moment to breathe the air I could before trying to get back up. When I managed to get up on all...well, threes for the moment - I made the attempt to dart in the opposite direction from the tent, putting as little pressure on my wounded leg as I could.
And just as I did, the pitter-patter of paws and the sound of angry barking was behind me.
My hooves dug themselves deeper into the ground, and I tried to run faster. But no matter how fast I seemed to run, crippled as I was - the noises and the barking was only growing louder, growing closer.
I was hardly fifty feet from the checkpoints and the creatures were practically biting and lunging at my tail, just trying to pull me back and dig their teeth in.
Could I even fight with an injured leg? I could punch, I could kick with my working one - but would I even have the strength to pack any kind of defense?
No more asking questions and thinking up answers - they were there, right behind me. I could feel it.
I either die now running, or I die fighting.
Now or never.
Readying my hooves, I started to slow down, just enough to ease my hoofing and be ready to strike.
And as I turned around - they died.
But not by me.
I heard the whistling sound of something passing by me, and I immediately reacted as to protect myself. I heard three, maybe four brief whines, followed by five or more thuds to the ground.
And as soon as I opened my eyes, I watched what had happened.
All six of the dogs fell to the pavement, bouncing and sliding for a split second before coming to a complete stop. They were still and limp, clearly dead.
Looking closer, I saw what killed them, and immediately I reeled my head back in confusion, maybe even a bit of worry.
Arrows. What?
Was there a trap somewhere? Did I step on a pressure plate?
Or...
I froze.
Then I turned around.
And immediately, I was greeted, for the first time in months - by ponies. Actual ponies, living and breathing. They wore their own armor, making sure they were fitted right, just enough to keep themselves safe.
There were three of them standing almost in a line, holding their own seemingly self-crafted bows.
One thing I did notice, however, was that none of them were wearing gas masks. Could it mean the air was safe to breathe? Or was it still bad and they just screwed themselves by walking into town?
My thoughts halted when the middle stallion, I'm assuming the leader, spoke up to me.
"Almost got your ass chewed off there," he said.
His voice was high, indicating he was somewhat pretty young. Clearly, he was talking in that typical "smart-ass" talk. It was obvious he didn't save me just for the purpose of saving some poor survivor.
I knew exactly what he was playing at, it didn't take a genius to guess it.
But for the moment - I said nothing, just waited for him to continue.
And continue he did.
"You know, you're pretty lucky. We managed to show up just in the nick of time, and yet - I haven't heard a 'thank you' or anything from you as of yet, because if it wasn't for us...!"
He shrugged, lifting a hoof and twisting it upside down, all while letting out a "ptft" noise.
In a way, he might've had a point. On every other factor, however...
"Sooo, I think it's only fair if we got some kinda...compensation for our service?"
And there it was.
I played along anyway.
"What kind of compensation?"
The stallion was now up close to me, having casually walked closer with every step he took, just to get face to face with me, only inches separating us. I was cautious just in case he was either to take off my mask, try and attack me, or otherwise.
But he didn't do any of that. He just simply got close enough to answer my question.
And it was exactly as I had expected it to go.
"Like...all of your shit - including that cool-ass gas mask of yours."
Hm. Never saw it as cool, but...
"Not gonna happen," I flat-out told him.
The stallion - would it be more appropriate just to call him a raider at this point? - stared at me for a few moments, almost like he had frozen. His face then contorted into a look of confusion and maybe even impatience. Even his head pulled back a slight bit.
He scoffed briefly.
"Excuse me?" he asked, moving his head forward like he wanted me to repeat it.
So I did.
"I said no."
His head pulled back again, and the impatient look started to show just a bit more. He looked in a random direction behind me, more likely the checkpoint, before turning his head back to me.
That's when his friendly, caring façade he put on finally died down, and his real intentions started to come out.
"We just saved your ass. You're lucky we didn't leave the dogs to munch on you, and you're even luckier we didn't decide to just put an arrow between your fucking eyes and call it a day! I'm letting you off with a price, and that price is all your shit. So unless you wanna fuckin' die right here, right now - you'll give me what I fucking want. Understand?"
I stared at him. It was amazing how just a couple of months can turn someone so angry and bitter, so violent towards others. Of course, he could have been like this before the outbreak - maybe due to the war? He seemed like someone who had a lifetime of just...this.
Not as bad.
So maybe I could try and talk him out of it.
It never worked - but there was never harm in trying.
"I appreciate the fact that you saved me. Grateful, even. But just because you saved me, that doesn't mean I'm gonna give you all of my shit. I'll leave a can, maybe two if I'm generous. But you're goddamn stupid if you think I'm just gonna bend over because you killed a bunch of mongrels. So my answer...is no. "
And there he was, with the staring again. He didn't immediately respond, nor did he immediately react. All he could do at this point was just stare at me in disbelief.
He was probably thinking to himself, Is this fucker stupid?
Was I? Probably. Two armed stallions and an apparent...
What is this guy-?
*smack!*
My mind instantly filled with the sense of pain. My immediate thought went to wondering what the hell just happened.
But as soon as I could think straight again - which honestly didn't take as long as you'd assume - it instantly clicked.
The guy punched me straight in the face. It didn't seem to hit me anywhere in the snout, but more or less under my left eye.
I couldn't believe it. The guy had the decency to save me, then decides to hit me when he doesn't get what he wants.
Of course, I knew it wasn't the kind of hit I was hoping. I knew the guy was immediately going to try and kill me, then take everything he could off my corpse before leaving me to the birds.
That was typical of any survivor - or so I had assumed.
I wasn't gonna be part of that.
Or better yet, I was gonna die trying.
Before I could fall to my side, I caught myself with my front hooves and reached for the knife I had hidden in my pocket - only for this occasion, a fight I could actually win.
When I looked back to the stallion, he was already planning either a stomp or another punch to me.
But I knew more about fighting than he did - I could tell.
As I guessed, he did attempt to stomp his hoof down onto my head, but I was quick enough to dodge his attack. I took the knife out of my pocket and gripped it tightly in my hoof. Before the stallion could react - I jammed the knife deep into his side, in a spot just between his armor, warranting an obvious reaction of shock and clear pain.
But I didn't stop there. Rather than pull it out and take more jabs, I started to slide the knife down, towards the rear. The stallion tried to pull me off, to stop me. I was obviously more capable of keeping my stance.
I only stopped once I had cut along nearly the entirety of his side.
And just as soon as I pulled the knife out - his side flew open like a broken dam, his organs and his own blood pouring out as he screamed. I moved away from him, allowing him to fall to the ground while continuing to scream. I focused on the other two stallions, the ones with crossbows. One was in the process of reloading his own.
The other, however, left his behind and started to charge me. As he closed in, I noticed the guy was a unicorn. At the last moment, I dodged and moved out of the way, causing the stallion to stumble onto the ground. As quick as I could, I ran over to him - and with the strength I had in me, stomped on his head, breaking his horn in two pieces. Whatever came loose fell to the ground and its color faded, something I never knew happened until just a few years ago.
The stallion screamed in pain, immediately grabbing onto the stump where his horn once was and seizing in agony.
Looking up, the armed stallion had now reloaded his crossbow and aimed it at me. Before he fired, I grabbed the unicorn from the ground and picked him up.
"Please, no-..."
I didn't attack him, but he assumed that I would - for the last half-second of life he had left.
The moment he was eye level with me, he wasn't anymore. His warm blood splashed onto my face as the arrow snugged its way in between his eyes, only inches from touching me. His whole body became limp in a single instant, and I let him fall freely. The other stallion on the ground was still in agony as he tried to put his organs back inside of him.
I focused instead on the stallion, staring at me with an empty crossbow once again.
"Shit!" he yelled as he threw the crossbow onto the ground, knowing reloading was too slow, and stood up on his hind legs and raising his hooves, ready to fight.
I quickly charged him on all fours, but stood on my own hind legs as I made contact. Despite him having readied himself, we both fell to the ground and tried to throw punches at one another.
A few of his punches hit my face, one in my shoulder, and another hardly tipped my nose. I could feel every hit - and it hurt like hell every time - but I had to stand my ground.
Eventually, I managed to get on top of him, enough so that he couldn't be able to fight back.
And I beat the shit out of him.
In the old world, a sane fighter would know when to stop after beating in somepony's head. It was common - did anyone really want to spend the rest of their life in a dungeon over a few slurs or a broken glass?
But in the current world, those rules no longer applied. If I stopped and let him go, what was stopping him from coming back with more guys and following me just to take me out?
I couldn't - I wouldn't risk that.
So I killed him.
Each punch against his skull broke more and more of it. With each crack, his head felt mushier, bruised, and battered. He spat blood, sputtered it from his mouth.
As the life faded from his body, his eyes started to relax - and all he did was just...stare at me. No matter how hard or how much I punched, he just stared at me in the calmest manner.
At this point, he was gone - if he wasn't, he would be soon.
I punched and punched for a minute, maybe more. When I stopped - his face was broken. Disfigured, broken nose. Hell, I hit him to the point where an eye popped out.
The ordeal left me out of breath. I sat on top of the body, breathing heavily, in and out, trying to regain myself. My hoof was shaking, covered in blood - and probably broken a bit in itself.
When I was finally able to balance my breathing, I let out a great sigh. I started wiping my bloodied hoof all over the corpse of the stallion I had just killed. Surely, he wouldn't mind right now.
Calmer already, I took a look at my surroundings, trying to be sure nopony else was nearby, or that these guys didn't have backup lurking in the shadows. Cornwall wasn't too complex, but anything could hide between its corridors and alleyways.
But the only sounds I could hear in the distance was the barking of dogs elsewhere and the chirps and squawks of birds flying every which way. It was enough to calm me even more. It always helped. I could kill someone and act like everything was fine a moment later.
And in a way - it was.
I was still alive, wasn't I?
*click*
I heard the sound and turned to it.
And the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, groaning and moaning in pain - with an arrow straight through my body. It had to have broken through my shoulder blade. Right? Is that what this felt like?
"Ggg-eeaagh!" I screamed.
My breaths became heavy and ragged again. I took glances at the arrow. Half of it had buried itself deep into my shoulder...or is it my chest-...
Oh goddesses...was it almost poking out the other side?!
I took a look towards where the arrow had come from.
The stallion, the one whose stomach I split open - he was still alive! His organs were still there, still next to him, and he seemed hardly alive - but he also seemed full of adrenaline. There was no doubt he was gonna try and kill me.
At first, I tried to get up, maybe run off. But the pain from the arrow forced me down - and I had already started to remember about my leg having been in a bear trap just three minutes ago.
I wasn't going anywhere.
"Y-....Y-You killed my friends...tssttt...y-you m-...motherfucker...!"
He was clearly having trouble trying to talk at this point. He could talk more than me right now.
"Hhha-...I....H-hh-I'm gonna kill you...yeeugh hear that?! I'm gonna ffffuckin' kill you!"
I didn't have the willpower or the general strength to respond back, only look. The stallion had an expression of pure rage plastered upon his face. He had a true intent to want to kill me. He really meant it. Even with his organs spilt in front of him, he seemed that determined, that pissed off at what I did.
Pissed off at me for surviving. That was all too-...
And in an instant, his face changed. He was no longer angry.
He immediately looked...scared.
That was when I heard the clip-clopping behind me. I didn't have time to turn around.
The figure had already passed me. The pain was already making me dizzy. I was nearly passing out - I couldn't recognize or see what the figure had looked like. But it was definitely a pony. Not a dog or a gryphon.
One of my own kind.
"N-...NNoo. Get away. G-Get away!"
I didn't understand. Did he know him? Her? Them?
It?
Whose side were they on?
It was obvious that the pony was not on the stallion's side - because before I knew it, they were hacking into him with what seemed to be a machete. He screamed and cried and begged for mercy, for life, only for those screams to be cut short with a swift slice to the throat...or what sounded like that.
My head lay on the ground, looking up into the sky. I just listened as the figure chop-chop-chopped away. The stallion was probably dead now, but I could still hear that gurgling of blood, at least for a little bit. Soon enough, though, that stopped too - and a very weak lift of my head saw the stallion now no more than a corpse like the rest of his friends.
And I noticed the figure again, standing over the body, looking down at it with the machete still in their hoof. The body was battered, beaten, shredded with parts of it cut apart where the blade struck deep within.
They stared at it for a few moments - and I stared at them until my body grew weaker, the blood became wetter on my hooves, and I became more tired. Eventually, I laid my head back down onto the concrete and groaned again.
I could feel, hear the figure turn their head towards me. Perhaps a shift in their body? Maybe the sound their clothing or their armor made when they turned...I wasn't sure. But soon enough, there was that clip-clopping again, getting louder with every step towards me.
I wanted to run, escape. Who was this pony? Were they kind, or did they kill everything in sight?
Was I going to die?
But I was so weak. I couldn't run even if I could cough up any adrenaline for just a few seconds.
And as I looked up at the clear blue sky - there they were...their head hovering over me, watching me. They were just a mere silhouette to my eyes for the time. I could hardly keep them open.
They looked at me and observed me, but they said nothing and only breathed quietly.
I looked at them weakly, waiting for my fate.
My eyes closed, unable to open anymore.
And I heard the figure speak.
"You'll be alright."
And then I met her.
Author's Note
Sorry about the long wait for this. Christmastime, boredom, and just other general things (gf :D).
I knew Christmas was gonna fuck with me nonetheless, but going back to college in a few days, I don't think I'll be having too much Writer's Block this year.
Probably.
Until spicy scenes begin to appear in the story, it will be scaled down to a T rating to allow for promotion on some threads here that allow that. I'm hoping to push out some more chapters in the next month or so, while also pushing out some more chapters for After. I haven't stopped liking these stories. Writer's Block just hates me. :)
"Strangers are just family you have yet to come to know."
~Mitch Albom
That Late Night
From The Perspective Of The Lone Girl
I could have killed him.
A part of me told me so. "Kill him. Like the other bastards."
When I saw the stallion from afar, the one who fought against those monsters - he was definitely not looking or aiming for a battle or a fight. He just wanted to get on his way like everyone else.
It becomes clearer when you see that so much, but so rarely.
And they wanted him dead...for refusing?
But he wasn't going to take it laying down.
He fought. I was impressed from so far away. He fought and kicked and used their own bodies to his advantage.
All of that, and a broken leg.
He had to be a soldier. I just had that feeling.
When he was hurt, I had to act. He was going to die otherwise.
I never gave that lasting coward a chance.
I gave him hell until he was gone like the rest, and when I turned back to the fighter...
He was almost out cold. Bleeding, but he would live.
"You'll be alright," I said to him. I knew he could hear me, even just a little.
And that was when I noticed his clothes.
Standard uniform, property of the Royal Service.
An old service, long gone now - but he still chose to wear the thing.
I couldn't lie, I still did the same thing.
Once he was unconscious, I started and scavenged through his things, hoping to patch him up right there, even if just for a moment. I was able to find a few bandages - big enough to stick them right over his wounds, and just enough until I could find the proper treatment.
But I couldn't slap it on him.
Not with that arrow sticking through his shoulder.
He was lucky it was only his shoulder.
I pulled it out with no hesitation. He screamed for seconds, and he was out again.
Or rather, he was never awake to begin with - instinctive screaming.
I would've screamed too.
That was hours ago. I carried him into the nearest house and I made sure we were not exposed to the outside world. I checked each individual room to be sure there were no threats, or at the very least - no graves that I happened to be disturbing.
I laid him on the couch in the living room and started rummaging through my bag and his for more medicine. In his bag, I was able to find a few rags, rubbing alcohol, and even a small bottle of penicillin, which seemed to be half full by now. It looks like it hasn't been opened in weeks.
With care, I slowly pulled off his bandage. He squirmed even when out.
His wound was still dripping blood, but not as much as before.
Taking one of the rags, I grabbed my canteen and dripped a bit of water onto it. Gently, I was able to dab the rag a bit on the wound, cleaning it of blood. The stallion shifted unconsciously, but all I could do was hold him down just a bit and keep dabbing until it was moderately cleaned. Once it was clean enough, I looked again into his bag and found a small roll of bandages. I unravelled just enough and ripped it off, then began to wrap it around his body until the blood could no longer seep through.
He breathed calmer after that - but I wasn't done yet.
I moved lower to his leg.
Bear trap, I thought to myself. Had to be.
And I wasn't wrong. His leg wasn't extremely mangled, but it was definitely bad. Definitely a broken bone - no surprise with bear traps.
He could be able to walk on it, sure - but that would only make it worse, for sure.
With a sigh, I got up on all fours and went back further into the house. The nearest door to me was that leading into the kitchen. I inspected the wood, the texture, its strength.
"Good enough," I said to myself.
With all the might I could muster, I pounded the door until it came off its hinges and dropped down onto the floor. The crash was loud, but when I looked, the stallion was still sleeping.
I'll call him a soldier when I know he really is one.
I looked in the nearest cupboard and was lucky enough to find a hammer. Who still puts tools in a pantry?
I started smashing away at the wooden door, breaking pieces of it apart, but making sure the pieces were small and long enough to make a splint. I always hated splints, though. Wearing one back in high school, I can remember when it was such a pain in the ass.
But walking with a limp was better than not walking at all.
Eventually, I gathered up the right size of pieces and started gathering some bits of string and small rope. When I had what I needed, I headed back over to the stallion. He was still out - it would make this easier.
Kneeling back down over his leg, I first did the same routine I did to his shoulder - cleaning the cuts. He squirmed again, but was soon calm again, and the bleeding was much less than it had been. I bandaged it up as quick as I could and got started on the splint.
I placed the wooden pieces side by side against his leg as close as I could without causing him any pain. Using the string and rope, along with some tape, I was able to wrap them around the wood and the leg at least a few times, just enough so that it would stick even if he moved.
It took a couple of minutes to set it properly, but when it was done, his leg was completely straight, and the splint was working as intended. He subconsciously relaxed, indicating I had done it right.
With one quick check, I knew I had taken care of the damage. Whether or not it would heal quickly was entirely up to time itself. For the moment, all that was left was for him to wake up. He doesn't seem like the kind who would kill at any opportunity, and if he was a soldier...
Well...it'd be nice to have someone about again.
So I chose to wait.
As I've already said, that was hours ago. By now, the sun had gone down, and the outside world had gone dark. In the early days, whenever I'd look out the windows of a house and looked out to a town - it would light up in all sorts of ways. The ponies would be wandering about, music would be playing at least somewhere, and everything would just seem so...alive.
But now, when I look out the window - or rather, through the wooden planks nailed onto the window - the town is as dead as the night. Not a single light shines through any house. Nowadays, a light that shines in a town is typically a fire recently started. It doesn't even have to be from a survivor - it could just very well be natural or from a storm.
That's how Canterlot fell, at least. A lightning storm, a ravenous plague, no fireponies to put out the fire, and whatever's left of the capitol starts rolling down the mountain by the morning, with nothing but smoke and charcoal to follow, and for several days afterward.
It was quite the sight.
As I sit in the living room, on a chair by the couch, the clock ticked nine in the evening - though it'd been days since I wound my watch, so it could be off. The stallion was still unconscious, but he seemed to be looking better. He was definitely sleeping peacefully now.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my radio. It wasn't mine, really.
It was...hers.
Felt it would come in handy.
I turned it on, and as usual, all I would get is static. Whirring and whistling of the noise, but no voices or sounds of civilization coming through. At this point, it was no surprise. All of the stations near here went down in the first few days. Only a few stayed working long after the power died - until they went quiet, too.
So I had doubts that any stations were still working anymore.
But I had to try. I had to.
Unity has to be out there.
It has to be real.
I just had to keep looking.
The signal was there, waiting for me somewhere.
I just had to-...
He started to move.
He was waking up.
I tensed up just a bit. What was he going to do? Attack? Greet? Stare?
Carefully, I put the radio on the table beside me and looked at him, my hoof hardly above my knife - just in case.
But he didn't attack. It seemed he didn't want to.
He looked confused, because he started to look around the place: The walls, the floor, the ceiling, even the boarded windows and the paintings that hung on the walls. He did this for just a moment.
And then he froze. I knew it because he could hear me.
Hear me breathe.
He slowly turned around, his own breaths frozen.
And our eyes locked.
Him to me.
Me to him.
And so we meet.
Author's Note
New intro. :)
Sorry if beginning is rushed. Beginnings of chapters are the most troubling - almost as much as endings.
“We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.”
-Rick Yancey
From He
She was the first thing I saw.
Like a deer in lights, she stared at me with a cautious look that not many showed in recent weeks. But at the same time, she didn't seem afraid, nor did she seem frightened. It seemed to be more of a look of surprise...like she wasn't expecting me to wake.
I tried to speak out, tried to get up - but all I could feel was pain. I looked down to my leg and saw it bandaged, splinted with wood - wood that seemed to be from a door, placed firmly against my leg to keep it still.
"You shouldn't try to move," she said to me. "It'll make it worse."
No hesitation but no resistance, I took her advice and tried to stay still, all the while adjusting my working body, keep myself comfortable. With a sigh, I turned to the ceiling, only for a moment, before looking back to her. It was at that moment that I noticed her attire.
Uniform.
"You're a soldier?" the first thing I asked the stranger. She nodded and asked me the same thing.
I did the same, and she seemed to sigh herself, this time in relief. I knew why she did it. It was no surprise to come across a survivor or a raider that scooped a Royal uniform off the remains of a real soldier and keep it for themselves. Some times, it was without consequence.
Other times, they caught the plague and were dead three or four days later, with crystals spewing out of every orifice in their body. That, however, only came from fresh victims. Typically, the plague died with the host after one to two weeks, leaving the contents safe to take. But any time before that, and you risked your life.
I turned my head slightly to the side, looking past her seated body, to the windows. It was dark, maybe just having turned to night. I could hear the sounds of the wildlife as they inhabited the land, whether it'd be crickets or deer or even bears.
"You've been out for a while," she told me. "I was the one that saved you. I just...had to be sure."
"Be sure of what?"
"That you were one of us."
She knew now.
"Did you live here?" she asked, but I shook my head.
"Seaddle. I was stationed near here when it happened. I tried to get home, but..."
But my mind turned to the memories of those early days. The panic, the turmoil, the riots and the fires. The killings and the slaughter.
"...I was forced to hunker down for a while. I've been on my own since."
The stranger's face held a sympathetic look to it. She was unsure of the feeling, but she seemed sorry for me.
"And your family...?"
I tried to shrug in my lain position. "I don't know. From what I heard before the radios died, the city was burning. I have no clue if they got out in time, or if they..."
That other answer, I couldn't say. It wasn't so much of an answer...more like an assumption - something I couldn't truly say for sure was true.
I didn't want it to be true; I never want it to be that.
But if...
I shook it away.
"I've been on my own since everything fell. I've been going from place to place, trying to...get by."
She didn't answer right away, but asked, "So you're a nomad?"
I nodded. "Exactly," I said in a quieter tone. "I guess you can say that."
"I guess that explains why most of this place is empty." She looked directly at me upon asking, "I take it that's from you?"
With another nod, I added, "I was planning on leaving as soon as I cleared out that tent. Wasn't expecting any survivors to be lurking near here."
"You mean me or those bandits?"
"Both."
"Hmm."
We were both quiet for a few moments. After a minute, I spoke again.
"What time is it?"
"Late. Sun went down a while ago. Found the closest house I could that was boarded up the most. We should be fine as long as we're not loud."
I nodded, giving a brief sigh before looking around the place. The room was lit with candles, but only a few; the only light in the entire town, no doubt.
"I wonder if any of the ponies that used to live here ever made it out, or is out there surviving, still alive. I... I couldn't see a whole town dying off." I looked to the floor. "Then again... I can."
"When did you first come to this town?" she asked me.
"A week ago. Maybe two. I don't remember. All I know is that I've been here for days. I was doing pretty fine on my own for a while. The only thing I had to worry about were the dogs... but I didn't think I would've been seeing them out in the day. They usually come at night."
"The dogs?"
"Yeah. They always traveled in groups. Sometimes five or six, and other times twenty or more, like packs. Unngh..."
I stopped as I felt a pain in my shoulder. As I turned and looked, I noticed that it had been bandaged up. I turned to my leg to find it even splinted.
"Your leg could be fractured," she explained. "It doesn't seem to bruise too much, but you shouldn't try and walk on it too much. And your shoulder - it'll be fine. Give it a few days."
I looked to the stranger with a look of faint impression. Or maybe it was impression. I don't know, but I was grateful.
"Thank you."
She smiled, faintly. I introduced myself, giving her name and hoping she would do the same.
"Rainbow Dash."
Rainbow... I sighed to myself; that was why she was so familiar...!
"You're from Bravo, aren't you?"
She nodded. "Do you recognize me? Have we met?"
"No. At least, not that I know of. But I've heard of you. You're the... with the wing."
I didn't want to be too forward or rude, but she knew what I was saying. Understanding, she held her wing out to me. It was metallic and shiny, but coated with dirt, wear and tear from the time of the war. It was the same size as her organic wing, but it was all so strange at the same time.
"I lost my wing in Detrot," she said. "It was an ambush. There was a lot of killing. I was probably one of the few casualties that didn't end with death."
I looked at her with a sorrowful expression; I didn't have to say anything for her to tell me it was okay.
"This took a long time to get used to. I'm still not used to it. But it was better than being stuck to the ground."
I gave a silent snort of laughter through my nose. We talked like strangers getting to know each other. It was a sense of normality that was rarely ever sought now, but we embraced it. Or at least, I embraced it.
"Where are you from?" I asked her.
"Cloudsdale. I spent most of my time in Ponyville, but Cloudsdale was my home... was."
"What happened to it?"
"Same thing as everywhere else. Ponies died from either the plague or each other."
"... And your family?"
She nodded, and I regretted asking her.
"It's fine. Someone was bound to ask me eventually. My family didn't want me to go fight, but I didn't have a choice. They stayed in Cloudsdale and hoped things would just go back to normal soon. By the time I was back home... they started getting sick, showing symptoms. When I found them..."
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"After that, the city just went quiet. It was strange, though... it looked clean, like it was just empty, not ruined. But I guess everything that wasn't magically held up fell down to the ground."
It explained why there was so much random debris in that field a while ago. Cloudsdale had been there at one point, but was now likely floating elsewhere. Where was it now?
"Where were you headed next?" she started. "Before you got jumped, I mean."
I shrugged. "Just somewhere. I figured to go to Coltston, that town a few hours east of here. Last I heard, it wasn't hit as bad... so maybe there'd be more food there."
"I just came from there. It's gone."
"Gone?"
"The ponies there burned it down to prevent any bandits from taking their things. Some died from the plague. The rest burned to death with their families. Anything that was left was picked clean by whoever cared enough to look through the rubble."
Damn it. It shouldn't have surprised me. But I was hoping that wasn't the case.
With a sigh, I looked up at her and asked the same thing of her. I always feared asking that to someone else because they would die soon after. Did I doom her too?
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to speak, but a sound from the outside kept her from letting her voice slip. Instinctively, I turned off the nearby oil lamp and put out every candle. The living room went dark, but light still remained. It came from outside, flickering.
The two of us peeked through the front window blinds to see the familiar town square. A house in the distance was on fire. It looked intentional. It caught the intention of every infected in town... dozens of them.
The plague all kinds of different things to ponies. Sixty percent of them would die by the time their eyes bled, twenty percent of them would turn feral and mindless before dying the next day, and the other twenty percent wouldn't die at all. Their blood didn't crystallize. They would become feral, then just continue to live and eat whatever they could until something or someone killed them.
Many of them out here would walk into the fire and burn to death. They would scream and moan, but they wouldn't roll over. They would just accept their fate, not knowing it was already set for them.
"That fire will keep them distracted," Dash whispered. "We shouldn't worry."
"I don't worry. I've seen enough of them to learn to stop worrying."
She seemed to take that statement in stride.
"We should stay here for the night. We'll leave tomorrow, if you're able."
"Even if I'm not... we should go anyway," I informed her. "There's no food left here, and that fire will draw a large enough crowd to make this place a death trap. Staying here longer than a day would paint a target on us."
She sighed, not telling me directly that I was right, but her expression told me that she knew.
"Okay."
For a while, the two of us looked outside, watching as the infected shambled their way into the growing fires of the burning home. The sounds filled the air with a chilling ping that echoed across the land.
It was the sound of blind and deaf anguish. It was the sound of cries that would never be calmed until the last breath left their lungs.
It was the sound of the end, but also the beginning.
Author's Note
Sorry on the wait. College started again, it's a hassle, not a lot of time to myself sometimes. Met a cute girl too. Gonna wait before I start making moves, haha.
Anyway, here's the next.
You know that feeling where you really don't want to get rid of an old author's note even though it's old as shit?
Anyway, sorry this took a while. Complications, family moving to the other side of the planet, life fucking sucks as usual. Normal shit.
4/1/2018: YOOOOOOOOO HOLY SHIT THIS TOOK FOREVER, DAMN
