The Flesh Pile

Patience. It's a trait that's different for everypony. Where Hazel wants to wait, I want to look for them directly. I didn't tell Hazel this, but he's a patient hunter, and I'm a stallion of action. I try to be better at it, but it is hard to sit idle. We have our cons though. One can only wait for a fight to end on its own and the other rushes into impossible odds. One can miss their chance while the other has taken the opportunity before it's gone. Patience is, in itself, a gamble. The bet in these times is your life.

"Anything?" Hazel asks.

"Nah," I reply. The plan is to keep watch from the second story window. We spent all day yesterday, and I find it tiresome. I look down and twiddle my thumbs. I look back and see Hazel fooling around on the couch.

I stare at apartment interior. It's a beautiful one with decorative wall paint that has pink flowers and green vines on a tan background. There's a white couch, dirty from age, next to the door that Hazel and I relax on during turns. Pieces of wooden furniture lay around, almost like somepony broke them.

I look back outside. A gust of wind cuts through my fur. I sigh and wait a bit longer. Another wind blows inside. I turn to Hazel "Hey. Your turn." He jumps up and crouches next to the window.

A few minutes pass as Hazel keeps watch. I lie on the white couch and stare at the ceiling. I drop my gaze back to the window. It's a bit low to the ground, and we have to slouch or crouch to see out of the window. We made turns for when we became uncomfortable, but we have a time limit after we insist it's the others shift. We laugh at it for a bit, but it became annoying. "Can I ask you something personal?" Hazel asks.

"Depends on the question?" I ask back and turn to him.

"That stallion you were with when I found you, who was he?" I leave the question in the air. I didn't want to answer it. Hazel doesn't persist what he asks. He stares out the window. I worry that someone will shoot him, but I can't convince him out of his get up.

"What's your story?" I ask him back. He doesn't reply, and the entire room grew silent.

"Not now," he finally answers. "If we ever find a drop of alcohol in this world. It may get me drunk enough for me to tell you. I'm sure I'll get you to admit your story too."

"We'll see," I reply.

"We can ask them?" He says. I sit up and look out the window, "The group is here," I spring off the couch and slump next to the window. They were there, already making their way down the road.

A large group of ponies with durable metal like armor on a murky brown body suit. It's the exact group too. They have identical masks that Hazel drew earlier. The covers were dark with a thick jaw section that wraps around their necks. They all carry a variety of weapons from blades, clubs, bows, and arrows, guns, a few staves, wands, and even books of magical origin.

Some of the ponies start to scream orders, taking aim, and preparing to take cover. I open my mouth to speak. A skin glider rushes down and grabs an earth stallion. He flies him up and impales him several stories up on the corner of an office building. The stallion struggles in the air. Another glider flies over and tears into his stomach, gashing it open with its claws. The pony's entrails fall and cover the group in a steamy bloodbath. I run out of the apartment without a second thought.

"Damn it, Stop Dapper!" Hazel screams at me. I didn't look back. I always tell myself never to run away.

The extreme winds hit me hard. I turn to the noise of hooves and see Hazel behind me. I look at the group. They unleash a barrage of arrows into a vast cloud of gliders. I know one pony drew their gun and fires at the rabble over them. A flyer flies down and grabs the pony up.

I charge up a spell and unleash a lightning bolt after the beast. The glider's wing tears away with burn marks. He drops the pony onto a car across the street. I rush to his aid with Hazel behind.

The attacker fell next to the pony. "Get the bastard," I yell. I grab the pony as Hazel stabs the creature through the mouth with his scythe. The blade passes up to the top of his head and unleashes a geyser of black blood on the snow.

I spot a large backpack on the pony. I grab it close to me and throw it on my shoulders. "We have to get inside!" Hazel orders me. I turn to see more skin gliders our path back to the apartment building. I clutch the pony in my arm. "Back this way," Hazel calls me. I turn towards Hazel who tries to motion me into a building, near the dead glider.

I rush to him with all my might. He throws the door open. A warm air engulfs me as I run inside. I hear the door slam behind me. I turn back towards the door. I catch my foot on the floor and lose my balance. I land on the floor hard on my side. I curse as I drop the pony in front of me. I crawl over to the pony and try to pick him up. A stern hand grabs my shoulder, "Shhhh," I hear. I look up to see a whole new hell.

We were in a polluter's nest down a long corridor. They were all snow white with black blisters, cysts, and sores all over their body. Their heads were bald with their cheeks erode all the way to the spine, which showcases a large mouth that touches their chest. The mouths were foaming with black foam and saliva that ran from their teeth down to their stomach. A hideous black smoke swarms around them. I feel a warm bead of sweat down my face.

Gunshots outside break the cold silence. The polluters scream at our presence. "Fuck, we need to go!" Hazel yells out. I collect myself and pick up the pony. "Screw the damn horse. We don't have time for heroics we go-" A giant ball launches towards us. It almost hits us by mere inches. I turn to see the liquid substance melt the stone wall behind us. "Let's go for the stairs!" Hazel screams towards a concrete set of them. I focus on my hand and create a small fire in it.

We run with screams and grunts on our tail. The stairs were in a veil of darkness. Hazel takes the lead forward. He arrives up the long staircase and waits at the end of them. "This way," he whispers as he enters a room. I follow him into the bare lit room. We scramble around and hide in the shadows. A mess of noises run by the door. We did not make a sound. I hear a creek in the silence. "Hey," Hazel calls out, "Get in this. I Got a plan."

"What?" I question him.

"You're gonna," He grabs me by my shoulders and guides me in with the other pony," hide in here." He helps me into a cupboard with pieces of office supplies in it. I went in with little space to move around in it. "I'm going to lead the polluters away. I don't know if I can come back. So, I need you to get out on your own."

"But, where will I find you?" I ask.

"Back at your place should be the best. I don't know if I'll get back there first or you. So be careful ok."

"Are you gonna be ok?" I whisper out.

"Course. There is a reason I wear this gross shit. Now sit tight. It's my turn to play hero."

"Thought you were trying to tell me there's no time for heroics though?" I joke.

"I guess I'm wasting time then," Hazel replies and cracks a smile. "Now, wait till I get back, and kill that spell. Remember, I'll meet you back at your place." I cease the spell and watch the brown doors turn black. The sound of hooves echoes away with the noise of more hooves and bare-feet after it. A small light breaches a crack in the door. It dims out, and my spot falls back into darkness.

I breathe out a sigh. A moan breaches the silence. I jerk up, and I look down at the pony. I guide my hand around to find the stallion's mask. I felt the cold mask and slide my hand underneath and grab his mouth; a viscous oil is around it. The cupboard is quiet for now, but that can't mean I'm safe. I look at the door, to crack in it. It can't be something you can fix. Maybe wit magic but that will make it glow. If something is watching me, then it loves to toy with me.

Not sure how long I've been in here. Not sure if it's safe, or if there is a beast at my door. I look down and sweep my hand across his body to see what else he has. I feel a set of wings on her back and some pouches with hard objects in them that I can't identify. I glide my hand to the backpack and move it to my front. I open it and feel through the pack. I grab a familiar object and withdraw it. The cold, metal object is a handgun, a revolver in fact.

I fumble around with it. I feel the hammer and move down its side for the release latch. I press it down, and a soft click goes off. The center magazine drops out. My hand slides across the magazine, and I feel bullets in it. I should be good if the shells work.

Questions bounce in my head. Will the gun work? Is there any sick left? Is it possible to carry this pony out? Is there a monster there? Patience is in itself a gamble, and your life will be the bet. The bet that we all take for every day, the bet that eventual lucks out, and the bet I will have to make to survive.

I slow my breath to a crawl. I open the door. My view is the same though with darkness in every corner. I gather the pony up above my arms and crawl forward. I drop to the floor, and I stand up.

The room is bigger to me than I thought. I take a step and count it. One, two, three. I reach out and feel the wall I place my hand try to use it as a guide. Four, five, six. The wall vanishes as I grab doorway to leave. Seven, eight, nine. I lift my hand to the darkness and dare to lite a fire. Ten, eleven, twelve.

I stop in my tracks. Steps go around me. I want to call out but I know I'd regret it. Though light, they made an impact. I count them. One, two, three. They pause for a second then continue. Four, five, six. I start to focus on my hand and warm up a fire. Seven, eight, nine. Fire bursts to life in my right palm and I have the gun in my left underneath the pony. Ten, eleven, twelve.

I stand still with the unknown danger in the dark. A warm sensation goes down my arms. Fuck, is that the ponies blood? My left hand becomes hot and slick as I maintain my grip on the gun. The pony moans again.

The beast yells out a bloody howl as he rushes out from the dark. I jump back, and the creature misses me. He runs into the night. I shoot into the abyss with a loud gasp from it. I brighten my fire to see a mare polluter on the floor. Black blood surrounds her chest. I look at the stairs and down them.

I run to the bottom and rush to my right towards the door. I kick it hard and walk outside. Bodies of the group earlier lay in their bloody mess. I hear one scream. I turn to the sight of a mare face down in the snow. A glider has his way with her. The grin on the glider's face grows broader with each thrust into the mare. He turns to me. His upper face is full of claw marks and deep wrinkles that covers his eyes. He motions me over with his index finger. I pull the trigger, and black blood pours out from the right side of his head.

"Miss?" I call out to the mare. She stands up and faces me. Her eyes bob out of her head. They raise high above her head. She sees me and smiles happily. It's too late for her. I turn the gun on her and shoot. A waterfall of yellow blood splashes from her throat steams up on the snow. Mucus runs out of her mouth and eye sockets as she lets out a gag and throws up a thick, clear liquid. She collapses down in the snow and smashes her face in the colorful pavement of entrails.

"Dapper!" I hear Hazel's voice call out. I turn to see him from the second story window of the apartment building. "I heard the gunshots; I was getting ready to run out. You ok?"

"I'm fine...but he isn't," I raise the pony in my arms up.

"Damn, I'm sorry. I'm coming down to help," Hazel vanishes out of sight. I jog to the front door and see Hazel run out. "You still doing this shit?" he asks.

"Yes. Now get this guy's feet. He's bleeding" He grabs the lower section, and we rush down the hall and up the stairs.

"Crap!" Hazel curses out, almost stubbles off the hole in the floor. I lower the pony, and I grab my key to the apartment. I unlock it and grab the pony's shoulders again. We barge into the living room and lay the pony down on the couch. I throw the backpack next to the couch and turn to Hazel.

"Hand me a knife mate," I command Hazel.

"Here," he hands over a large bowie knife. I take it and place it under the pony's shirt. "What are you doing?" Hazel questions.

"He's bleeding badly in the back. Gonna need to find the wound and try to heal it with a spell." I push the knife upwards and rip through the cloth shirt. I catch some of the armor. I grab the metal chest plate and rip it off. I look at his chest.

His chest is small and frail. Black oil coats his body along with the blood. However, what catches me off is his chest. His chest has two small breasts. The pony is a mare.

I grab her torso. The black fur is sticky and then in my grip. I flip her over and see a large gash going down her back. It also cuts her bra strap. I grab it and throw whats left of it across the room. I go back to the gash and see it travel past her pants.

"We have to remove her pants. I need you to get them off," I tell hazel. He walks behind her and grabs her waist. He pulls them off with a single pull. The gash travels down her left leg with veins, muscles, and small pieces of bone out of it. I raise my hands up and think the spell in my head. I try to focus on happy thoughts, dreams, and safety. Light gently lowers out of my hands and starts to mend the wound. Veins and muscles spaz out to find their old spots and stretch out to fill the space.

"Hey," Hazel calls out. I turn to see him with a small ham radio. About half his forearm length.

"Whoa, where did you get that?" I ask.

"From the backpack. Let us see what we can find, and get this pony out of our lives." Hazel puts the radio down on the coffee table and flips it on. It hums then puts out static. Hazel turns dials around on the small device. I look back at the mare.

"Not to be mean, but do you know how-"

"Please..." The radio pops out.

"Got, something. What are the chances?" Hazel points out. I finish the spell. A nasty scar t on her shoulder to her hip. I get up and join Hazel by the table.

"This is..." The radio speaks.

"Hello, can you hear us?" I reach out.

"Hello? Who is this?" A mare voice calls out.

"Dapper Rune. I'm a survivor on the east coast,"

"Dapper? Are you new to the group?

I look at Hazel who looks back with an eyebrow-raising look. "No," I reply. "What do you mean?"

"I'm using an enchanted radio to see new radios. You're using the same one the group I've been helping. Where's everyone else?" the mare asks.

"I don't know."

"Don't know? What happened to them?"

"They were attacked by skin gliders here at our location," Hazel answers.

"A skin glider? I'm not sure what that is, but I need to know if anypony made it out?" She asks.

"Not everypony. Some got away. We have a mare with us though," Hazel responds.

"Oh, sweet Luna. Look I'll try to get somepony there and get you two and the survivor."

"Whoa, we don't need an escort. Tell us where you're at, and we'll go to you?"

"Yakyakistan, up north from here."

"Yakyakistan, that's by the flesh pile," Hazel groans out.

"The what?" The mare asks.

"Look, how do we know we can even trust you."

"You can't. If it helps, my name is BonBon, I'm a candy maker in Ponyville, and I now work the radio to help others reach us. We're looking for healthy ponies that we need to build a better life. Ponies who are brave and generous. We need ponies like you. Please, help us." I pause on her words.

Can we honestly trust her? Is this place safe? Does Hazel know it well? It's a gamble outside of patience. Then again it's suicide out here. Supplies are here one day and gone the next. Fires can only start with magic. Ponies only steal and, from what Hazel says, eat each other if left without a choice. Sometimes, it's just an urge to eat each other now.

"We're at Fillydelphia. Apartment building 534. Get somepony out here."

"Dapper, are you insane!?" Hazel yells at me.

"Thank you, so much. I'll try to get somepony from the other group to come back."BonBon informs.

"Dapper, Staying in one location, with a big group of ponies, has never worked. They're a platter of food for any infected, especially those in the flesh pile. Only those who hide will survive. Please don't do this," Hazel pleads.

"The flesh pile?" I slip out.

"They weren't the first to go up north or south. My old group calls it that cause that is where everypony goes, were every sickened beast goes, were about everypony has died at."

"Please, sir. Trust us. Trust me. It's safe."

"We're dying here anyway Hazel. You know better than me that Fillydelphia is no longer safe, and we are out of supplies." I argue. He gets up and looks out the window. Silence hangs in the air.

"My names Hazel by the way BonBon. I'll come along." Hazel agrees. "Not gonna like it though."

"Thank you. Before I go, can you accurately describe who the pony is?"BonBon asks," I need to know at least what survivor you have now."

It takes me a minute to understand the request. We never actually see the ponies face yet. I walk over to the mare on the couch and roll the mare over on her back. I grab the mare's helmet and lift it up.

I'm speechless. It's hard to accept, but she's there. I know her face, I feel most do cause you couldn't escape her from the news. She had others by her side at the time, but I know her face under that grease well enough.

Her face is small with a tiny nose to boot. She also has some of the black oil on her face as well. She has a long mane and tail that she has in a bun. I undo it and lay her hair on the couch's armrest.

Her long mane, her petite body, that cute face with gorgeous blue eyes, her name is.... "We have a legend on our couch," I reply, "We have Fluttershy."