A Horse Walks Into a Bar...

Alan certainly wouldn’t have had described himself as a paranoid person. Cautious, skeptical, a bit guarded: these were all things he wouldn’t have had been surprised to hear about himself. Even as a kid his mother had even said to him that he ought to be a bit more relaxed with his possessions. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share them, but more of a desire to keep his toys in one piece. But, as he drove down the highway, the morning sun beginning its trek across the sky, he would have had to admit that paranoid was a pretty good way to describe himself at the moment.

He adjusted his rear-view mirror and noted two things; that Caramella was still asleep in the back seat, and that just a little bit above her he could make out an unmarked black cruiser steadily following along several cars away. This normally wouldn’t have had worried him, but the little equine in his back seat and the digestion of Canterlotion rumors had put him on edge. It was either a coincidence that there happened to be an unmarked car that just so happened to join up on the same highway as him—or, it was some government agent called up by someone who had seen Caramella. Considering her love of window face-smushing, he bet on the latter.

Speaking of Caramella, he had to wonder how she was feeling about everything. For a rather milquetoast girl—er, mare, she seemed to be taking being stuck in an alternate world in stride, Of course, there were no way to truly know how she was feeling, but Alan suspected that she missed her homeworld more then she let on. She had a job and siblings to return home to. While he himself didn’t have anybody to call family—with his parents six feet under and him being an only child—she did. And he would be damned if he wasn’t going to follow through on his promise to get her home.

“A-alan...” He heard the pony in question yawn. She smacked her lips. “Mooorrning.” She made to get up.

“No, stay down!” he yelped.

Flinching, but complying, she asked, “Huh? What? Why?”

He took a deep breath. “I think we’re being tailed,” he stated.

“What?” What do you mean we’re being tailed?”

He gave the mirror another glance and sure enough the cruiser was still visible. Sweat formed along his brow. “I’m not really sure of the ins and outs of undercover police work, so I’m just gonna ask; you ever seen a spy movie or something? Stuff where peo- er, ponies go undercover and have to go sneaking around, maybe in a disguise?”

“Oh, you mean like the Lunar Guards? I’ve heard they handle some of the more serious stuff the Kingdom has to deal a lot more, ahem, discreetly than their Solar counterparts. I know a lovely old thestral mare by the name of Moonechos who used to be with them. She comes in for banana bread every we—”

“Wait, wait, wait, you guys actually have a secret hardcore spy division?” In a world full of literal sunshine and rainbows, Alan had to wonder what the hell they needed them for. Then he remembered the twenty foot hole in the front of a high school and casual mentions of dragons.

Before Caramella had a chance to respond he continued, “You know what, whatever, I’m just glad you understand the concept. Anyway, soon after we left that truck stop I kept an eye out to see if anybody was following us; saw an unmarked car after about ten minutes...”

He sighed. “Admittedly, we haven’t really done our best at keeping a low profile...”

“O-oh no... this is all my fault...”

“No, it’s both our faults,” he calmly said. “I should have had told you to keep your head down, but I didn’t. So, now we’ve got this situation on our hands and hooves.”

“W-what are we going to do? What happens if they come and arrest us?”

Alan felt his grip of the steering wheel tighten. “Well, they can’t do that unless we give them a reason to pull us over. Er, I think... Listen, as long as I don’t start driving like someone injected me with a ton of meth and lemonade, we’ll be fine. I have a plan, trust me.”

With that said, the pair crept into an uneasy silence. At the first chance he got Alan made for an off-ramp, picked a road that was vaguely in the same direction as Canterlot, and drove. He didn’t quite pull any action movie stunts, but he certainly felt like he was in one. He willed his truck to bob and weave its way throughout a few small towns and local villages in an attempt to shake the cruiser. Nothing he did worked of course, the car kept onto Alan like a predator following his prey—but that was fine.

As the clouds started to darken, Alan made his move. He hooked a hard right and sped up ever so slightly into a densely thicketed road. Snow started to fall in dancing flurries as Alan took each and any road he could find. Tall trees started to spring up left and right. He would have to hope that he would be able to find his way out of the forested maze of back roads and back onto the highway.

Alan knew he was taking a risk, but he wasn’t going to chance Caramella getting scooped up by some federal agent, soon to find herself on a cool metal table with bright lights and sharp instruments around her. Not like that’d actually happen... better to be safe than sorry though.

It was around eight o’clock when Alan looked into his rear mirror again and found no signs of the black cruiser. He kept on driving though, deeper and deeper into the woods, watching for anything that might betray their safety, but he found nothing. Alan deemed it safe for Caramella to come up.

“Arrgh, finally.” She sat up and rubbed and rolled her stiff neck. “I was getting bored of looking at your roof.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well hopefully that’s the last we’ll see of mister FBI agent.”

Caramella’s head tilted quizzically. “You really think he was from the government?”

Did he? Honestly, he couldn't be sure of it. The whole thing could've really been a total coincidence and he was just getting to himself. There wasn’t anyway to tell.

“...Maybe,” he muttered.

As he said that, the car lurched and started to lose speed. “Oh shit! You’ve gotta me kidding me!”

Caramella popped her head in between the front seats, her ears flicking downwards. “W-what’s wrong? Is he still on us?”

“Worse...” Alan bit back the urge to punch the steering wheel—barely. In his rush to leave the truck stop he had forgotten to do one very crucial thing and now they were both paying the price. Alone in the woods with the snow falling down, Alan said, “We’ve run out of gas.”

“W-what do you mean we’ve run out of gas?” Caramella asked climbing into the front.

Alan slumped onto the steering wheel. “No gas, no combustion, no movement. Shit...”

“Well... it’s not all that bad, is it? Errrrr...” She looked out of the windows and saw the same thing Alan saw: Snow, , trees, and an absence of people. “At least we have these Dorito thingies. Hehheh, right?”

“Caramella, I appreciate the sentiment... but right now, we seem to be totally and utterly screwed.”

“Well, can’t you use your thingy? Your cell phone thing?”

Alan shook his head. “Even if I did have service, who am I going to call? I call a tow truck and then I’d have to explain you to whoever shows up. No way, no chance.”

The mare pierced him with her gaze. “But, you said it yourself that we’re ‘screwed,’ I don’t see anything out there but forests and snow! We can’t just sit here on our flanks and freeze to death. You have to make the call!”

“But what about getting you home safely? I made a promise!” he protested, a bit shocked at the mare’s smoldering glare.

“Alan... please! You said it yourself, it’s ‘we,’ not just you or me. And my input on the matter is getting us out of this situation.”

“I...” Alan pulled out his cell and pushed a button. The screen lit up. “Are you sure?”

She bit her lip, but nodded.

Sighing, he swiped his password into the phone and found that he was able to pick up a signal. If he did call somebody he was taking a risk. Caramella knew it as well... “Fine. Alright, here we—”

HONK HONK!

Caramella screamed and dove back into the rear seats.

“Jesus! What the hell?!” Alan whipped his head around and saw nothing but the blinding fury of somebodies headlights. He pocketed his phone and fumbled with the door, tumbling into the snow. “What—what the fuck?”

Behind his own crappy, beat up truck, Alan saw a slick black muscle car with blue and yellow decals on the front and sides. Whoever the driver was, they had turned off their car and were beginning to get out. Somebody in an orange jacket ran over to Alan and held out his hand. Alan took the hand and picked himself up.

“Whoa, you okay there, buddy? I saw your car—well, saw that it wasn’t moving that is. What happened?”

Alan gave the mystery person a glance. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh!” He facepalmed then grinned. “Name’s Flash. Flash Sentry.”