Lonely. Desolate. Silent.
These three words were all that came to the mind of the traveler who stood atop the hillside ruins on the outskirts of a once great city. From on top of a crumbling slab of charred wall, a stallion in an orange hazmat suit overlooked the dozens of blackened and twisted bones that used to make up the numerous skyscrapers and commercial office buildings.
The city had once been built up around the shores of the now yellowed and murky waters of a peaceful northwestern bay. To the southeast from where he stood, a charcoal black crater carved a barren chunk out of the city. It’s still brightly glowing center ebbed and flickered like a fire, while the edge of the blast had cut through the remains of the now burned out suburbs.
The stallion began to wonder if he’d ever visited this city before the bombs. It looked so alien to him now, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the epicenter of it’s destruction. It was the lasting and uncontestable headstone to the now forever quiet city. It was a grim sight to behold, but he’d come to terms with the end of the world he once knew many miles ago down the road.
*Tick* *Tick* *Tick*
The magical radiation counter on his dirty and worn out hazard suit spoke to him in soft, quick, crackling ticks. The noise made the stallion reflexively hold his breath. The sudden strain on his lungs had not been well timed, and he was forced to give out a wheezing light cough. Tiny flecks of blood coated the stallion’s scraggly beard, along with the interior of his helmets face mask. The crimson specks caught the Stallion’s eye, and sent a brief flash of fear through his tired eyes. Bringing his hoof up to read the dusty rad-meter, he inspected the patchwork he’d done around it a few days ago.
I should have used less adhesive. Need to conserve what I’ve got left. He thought to himself before focusing on the ticking rad-meter.
The thin black needle barely moved from its resting place as a light breeze picked up. Shorly, the soft wind built into a droaning wail that drove through the ruins below him, sending his meter spiking a few times. But like the world itself, it quickly died and dropped him back into the eerie, oppressive silence that filled the dead city.
So long as the wind doesn’t stay constant, I should be fine.
Looking back up to the horizon, he turned his eyes skyward. The dark grey cloud cover that had closed off the skies all looked the same to him. With a sigh, he couldn’t even bring himself to curse the pegasi anymore for sealing away the sky. As much as he hated them, it was only because he was jealous that they didn’t have to deal with this hellish wasteland. Still, the brooding clouds hanging quietly above him weighed on his mind.
Looks like rain. He offered as a thought, though he could never quite be sure what the weather would hold for him anymore.
Looking down, he got back to the task of observing the ruined city. The black haze of still smoldering wreckage that drifted throughout the silent ruins didn’t help to comfort him either. More than anything, the stallion had feared getting lost, or worse, trapped while scavenging for water and food. Casting a careful gaze over the city, the stallion squinted as he scrutinized potential sites to search for supplies and to use as shelter.
Two days to cross the city, three maximum. He nodded to himself. Then it’s back on the road north again.
A flash blinded the stallion, and a resounding boom filled the air.
The stallion dropped to the ground and slid down the rubble wall as his legs gave out from under him. He curled his hooves over his head, and used his magic to surround himself with a weak shield spell. The frightened stallion let out a pitiful whimper.
Oh Celestia, it’s happening again!
Trembling, the stallion listened, waiting and bracing for the coming balefire blast wave. However, no wave was to come. Only the same silence that had been around him since he began his journey.
Another frightening boom filled the air without warning, rumbling off over the silent city and hills around him. A soft pattering against his helmet made him silence himself. The stallion slowly opened his eyes and looked to the dark skies again. Droplets of rain splashed against his foggy facemask. One at a time at first, but soon they had begun to pick up. A light rain fell over the area, pelting the stallion as the dark clouds pulsed with lightening along the horizon.
Oh, I guess I was right. The stallion sighed with relief. However, with the thoughts of rain, came the aggravating reminder of just how parched his throat felt. Damnit. Why did I have to be right?
With a grumble, the stallion picked himself up as another burst of thunder drifted over the horizon. Climbing back up the rubble, he once again turned his vision out toward the city, now in search of somewhere to wait out the storm. A few promising candidates sat not to far out from where he stood. As much as he didn’t like it, the outskirts of downtown would have to do for tonight.
He began looking at the remains of an old apartment building that hadn’t been completely gutted by the balefire on the final day of the old world. Nah, probably full of shamblers. Turning his gaze, he viewed the smoldering remains of what looked like it was once a Ministry of Peace hospital. No, probably a bandit trap by now. Shifting his gaze again, he stopped upon the open, flat hoofball field that sat the farthest out of all of them. He couldn’t quite see it clearly from where he stood, but he had a good feeling about spending the night in this city's old high school stadium. Yeah, that might work. Looking further beyond that, only the ruins of residential and industrial buildings lined what he could make out on the far side of the city.
His ears perked as the sound of crumbling rubble came from somewhere behind him. Again, the stallion dropped to the ground, sliding down to the muddied dirt as another blast of thunder rolled across the sky. His heartbeat spiked again, and his shaking hooves quickly fumbled open the travel bags he wore over his protective orange suit. From inside, a revolver floated shakily into the air, wrapped in the green magical aura his horn shared.
The patter from the rain picked up, growing heavier to mask the surrounding ruins with it’s steady drumming. The stallion pulled the revolver close to him, frantically scanning the piles of brick and steel that sat scattered like jagged hills. Even in the dull light that filtered through the dark cloud cover, the shadows the rubble cast were dark enough to send electric tingles along his spine every time he looked at them. The thought that he only had three rounds left for his only means of defence was lost to him as he waited patiently for whatever had followed him to show itself. He wouldn’t be stopped, not so close to the end of his trek.
Still, the only noise outside the rain to meet his ears, was his own recycled, wheezing breaths as he sat crouched next to the rubble.
I’ve been here for too long already. Need to keep moving.
The stallion picked himself up out of the dirt and got back to his hooves. The rubber soles that capped each of his protective suit boots allowed him to be nearly silent as he trotted away. But the stallion knew that silence alone sometimes wasn’t enough to make it through the ruined cities. With his pistol still held close, he did his best to keep the old school stadium in sight as he trotted deeper into the quiet, dead city.
The thundering rain that poured down from the dark skies outside echoed through the empty long halls that lead to the hoofball field locker rooms. Stormy nights like this were of great comfort to the stallion on his long journey. Not only did it deter other scavengers from searching his shelter while he rested, but it brought back sound to the world. It wasn’t until he’d been on the road for a few days that he’d noticed just how much silence filled the world now.
There had been so much hustle and bustle in his life before the final day. Things during the war had gotten so noisy, but like everypony else, he’d just gotten used to it. Now that was all gone, and all he had left was the sound of his own recycled breathing. Nights like this were a gift, as the sound of the rain was the only companion that had traveled with him all this way.
A soft banging emanated through the concrete corridors from inside the locker room halls. With a rending squeal, the front of the Sparkle Cola vending machine flew open. The stallion took a step back, dropping the pry-bar from his magic as a few of the glass bottles inside the machine tumbled out and shattered at the stallion’s hooves. Undeterred, the stallion quickly shoved as many bottles as he could out of the machine into an old janitorial bucket he’d found.
With the bucket and pry-bar in tow, he trotted back toward the stalled showers in the far back of the room. He wore a look of contentment at his haul as he approached the softly flickering fire he’d built in one of the stalls. His orange hazmat suit had been hung out to dry over the edge of the overturned laundry cart he planned on sleeping in tonight. The towels inside, though unwashed, would make a fairly good blanket for him when the fire went out.
The small fire was already threatening to die, but still lightly danced and crackled over the shower drain cover. It didn’t provide much light, and it filled the musty locker room air with the stinging smell of soot, but the stallion much prefered that over the darkness and smells in some of the shelter’s he’d had to spend the night in.
Setting the bucket and pry-bar down near the edge of the stall, the stallion rubbed his chipped and cracked hooves together before holding them over the fire. His damp and matted dark brown fur still clung to him in some places on his emaciated forelegs. Twisting his forehooves, he looked over the bald spots where the beginning stages of magical radiation sickness had formed purple and black sores. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lowered his hooves back down.
Cracking one eye open, he looked down at the bucket full of Sparkle Cola. He couldn’t fight the smile that broke across his chapped lips. Using his magic, he gripped around one of the sparkle cola bottles and flipped the cap off. He pulled the sweet carbonated drink up toward him, eager to taste the carroty flavor that would become oh-so rare in the coming days and years ahead of him.
*Tick**Tick**Tick*
The rad-meter on the protective suit ticked subtly as the bottle moved past it. The stallion froze. His smile steadily shrank as he held the fizzing drink so close to his muzzle that he could practically already taste the carrot flavor.
No. He attempted to rationalize with himself. Maybe it was just a fluke.
The bottle in his levitation wavered unsteadily as he couldn’t justify taking a single sip to himself. Slowly, he lowered the bottle down toward the suit again. With perked ears, he listened intensely.
*Tick*.......*Tick*...*Tick**Tick**TickTickTickTickTick*
The closer he moved the bottle, the more aggressively the counter rang out. With an angry shout of frustration, the stallion threw the bottle from his magic, and shoved the bucket of irradiated cola across the room. The room was momentarily filled with the sound of breaking glass as the stallion vented his anger. The metal bucket however bounced a few times from his throw. It traveled along the concrete floor with a rough grinding noise, rolling back and forth a few times before coming to a stop, and leaving only the sound of the fire and the stallion’s heaving breaths.
With a whimper, the stallion stared at the mirror that still hung on the wall near where he’d thrown the poisonous bottles. He trembled, getting to his hooves and choking back the feelings of hopelessness that clawed at his mind as his reflection drew clearer in the mirror. His tired green eyes were slightly jaundiced, and had sagging bags under them. The scraggly mint colored mane that drooped over his head was thin and patchy. Even the beard he’d grown out over the journey was less full then it felt inside the stuffy hazmat helmet. Looking over himself, his ribs clung to his skin as he breathed, and even his cutie mark had deformed around his emaciated hips. As if to add insult to injury, a gurgling squelch emit from his waist as he looked at it.
Was it… two, or three days ago? He couldn’t remember the last time he had anything to eat. He felt hungrier than he ever had before, and carried a thirst with him that at that time already felt unquenchable. Tomorrow I’ll eat. That’s when I’ll find something.
Slowly, the worn out stallion forced himself to walk back and climb into the old laundry hamper. The musty towels had grown warm from the heat of the small fire, and helped to sooth the stallion’s sore muscles as he closed his eyes. A warm bed was more of a luxury than he’d had in days, and at least for tonight, he was thankful for that much.
The storm of yesterday had long since passed by the time the sun was above the horizon. Water dripped and flowed out of the ruins in small rivers, washing with it some of the magical radiation saturated dust that coated most of the silent city. However, with that cleansing, came new dangers.
Streams of highly irradiated water drew out a few curious feral ghouls that filled the various ruins in the city. Some of them followed the magical radiation as it bled down the ruins on the hills toward the poisoned yellow waters of the bay. As they went, their splashing hooves attracted yet other ghouls to the noise. The silent city itself may have been dead, but most of its current inhabitants had refused to die with it on the last day.
It was times like these when the stallion in the protective suit would normally double back on his route, choosing to instead take more time than planned while traveling, rather than risking contact with the ghouls. Today was a day he thought the risk was worth it.
Quietly, the stallion sat huddled in the second floor corner of an old brick building. Pressed up against the dusty brick, he held his hoof tightly over the softly ticking rad-meter to muffle it further. Hidden from plain view, he sat there, listening and waiting as a dozen or so curious ghouls wandered by. They splashed along noisily, passing between him and the still intact refrigerator lying exposed on the bottom floor of a ruined house across the street.
Damn shamblers. He thought, licking his chapped lips.
His ears swiveled attentively as the hoofsteps of the ghouls bled off into the distance. Quickly peeking out the window, he surveyed up and down the street, finding it clear for the moment. This was his moment to go.
Alright, I just know I’ll find something good in this one. He removed his trembling hoof from over the softly ticking meter, letting out a soft breath of relief.
*creeeeeak*
The floorboards above creaked as they shifted. The half burned wood strained under the weight of something still alive above him. The stallion gasped lightly, throwing his hoof back over the meter as he pressed himself back against the wall again. The labored hoofsteps of a pony met his ears, moving slowly across the floor above him. His own eyes darted to the doorway across the room he was in. There, the stairwell down to the street sat just through the wide open doorway, with its splintered door still laying flat from when it was blasted off it’s hinges in the balefire apocalypse.
Of course there was one upstairs… The stallion resisted the urge to facehoof. Maybe… I can slip out quietly before it gets wind of me? Eyeing out the window again, he scanned the house across the street for another place to hide.
*Bang!*
Somewhere off in the distance, a gunshot rang through the air. It reverberated and echoed through the ruins. The hoofsteps upstairs stopped, and a low moan filtered through the floorboards.
*Bang!* *Bang!*
More gunshots. The ghoul upstairs let out a piercing screech, and it’s hooves hammered across the charred wooden floorboards. Frozen in fear, the stallion fought to keep himself from hyperventilating. With a meaty thump, the ghoul upstairs slammed into the wall near the stairway. It galloped down, again slamming into the wall below before racing across the hallway again to repeat the process.
As it passed the doorway, the stallion held his breath. The charred blue pony raced by, seemingly not taking any notice to the bright orange suit cowering in the far corner of the nearby room. Instead, it continued on it’s frantic path out of the building, hitting every wall it could on the way out. Only when the splashing of the ghoul’s hooves in the irradiated river met the stallion’s ears, did he take a gasping breath.
This would be so much easier if I knew how to teleport. He thought to himself as he slowly got to his hooves and started moving toward the stairwell.
Every step was a gamble, and each creak that came from the floor caused him to hesitate. The thought of the refrigerator being so close, yet so far out of reach was almost unbearable. But the stallion knew he must remain calm, focused, and patient.
Step by step, the stallion painstakingly made his way down the stairs. The clouds outside were a lighter grey than yesterday, and the sun that filtered down onto the stallion as he made it outside felt warm to him. The wet, muddy ground gave slightly under each hoofstep, and his rad-meter spiked every few steps. Still, the stallion kept his ears perked as he made his way out into the street.
It’s just a hop, skip, and… He told himself before jumping over the swiftly moving irradiated water that flowed down the hill.
As his rad-meter maxed out, it let out a shrill, short-lived alarm. Keeping up his momentum from the hop, the stallion threw caution to the wind and dashed into the remains of the nearby house. Out of immediate danger for the moment, the stallion covered his rad-meter until it quieted again.
The old teal colored refrigerator was half charred and laying on it’s back. Most of the house looked like it hadn’t faired well in the blast, but the refrigerator was indeed intact. Looking and squinting at the small metal plate screwed onto it’s side, the stallion emit a light gasp as he read the words lead lined on it.
With a ravenous fervor, he reached out with his magic and pulled at the handle. The rubber gasket that had once helped to seal the door, had melted from the bombs, and now truly sealed it shut. The stallion’s stomach let out an impatient gurgle before his horn lit up and opened his bags.
A worn and tarnished pair of scissors floated out in his magic. With an aggressiveness normally reserved for the more unsavory kind of survivors, he jabbed the scissor blades through the rubber and began to shear through it. Harder and faster he tried to cut, all the while pulling with his hooves on the stubborn door. At last, the rubber gave, and the door opened wide.
The stallion dropped the scissors to the floor with a clatter, paying no mind to the noise it made. Instead, he was focused on the prizes inside for all his patience and hard work. Most of the food inside was blackened and rotted, and the few glass milk bottles inside had been broken when the refrigerator had been blasted over. However, three items still remained. A single unopened box of fancy buck snack cakes, and a pair of distilled, bottled waters. Taking one of the bottles in his magic, he held his hoof up and pressed the rad-meter against the bottle.
Silence followed.
Franticly, the stallion grabbed at his helmet. With a sharp hiss as the seal detached, the stallion pulled it off as his magic tore the crimped metal cap from the glass bottle. Greedily, he stuffed the bottle into his muzzle and chugged its contents down. But like all things, it didn’t last, and the container was emptied in moments. Still, the stallion gave out a sigh, stumbling back onto his flank in contentment.
His soft green glow wrapped around the fancy buck box, opening it to reveal two of the small, fluffy, and individually wrapped confectionery treats inside. He quickly slipped one out, closing the box again before safely stowing it in his bag. As he set the removed cake into his hooves, he reached out again and grabbed the other water bottle in the fridge. With little effort, he slipped it into his bag as well, while using his muzzle to tear at the wrapping around the small cake.
It was then that the stallion had first looked around since winning his prize. His body stopped, locking up as he peered down the street from where he’d come. There, standing out in the open among the rubble, was a small pink coated filly. She didn’t wear any clothes, or have any sort of protection on her. She was alone, and starkly out of place among the blasted ruins of the quiet city.
She was like a ghost to him. She was something that he knew couldn’t possibly exist out here, yet there she was. The long flowing yellow mane and tail on the filly wavered in the light breeze that swept through the silent city. Her sharp green eyes peered over at him as if she too had seen a ghost.
Go. Run. Now. The stallion’s mind screamed at him.
Dropping the cake, the stallion scrambled to his hooves. His heart hammered against his chest, and his hooves thundered at the muddy street. He was gone from the ruined building and galloping up the street away from the strange filly so fast that he wasn’t sure how far he’d gone by the time he looked back. However, the stallion had known better than to charge blindly through the silent cities.
Without warning, the stallion was tackled to the ground. A sharp howling from next to him jarred him as he rolled. He barely had enough time to shake off the hit before his assailant was back on top of him.
The feral ghoul mare who hammered at him with her hooves snapped her jaw as the stallion tried to defend himself. His horn sparked and fizzled as he lost his focus during the staggering assault. There was a stiff crunch as the ghoul’s hooves damaged the protective glass on his helmet. A web of cracks crept out from the impact at the corner of his mask. The stallion began to panic, and he reacted with a rash move.
A single, simple mistake in trying to block the mare’s assault with his forehoof that would cost him dearly. The ghoul seized the opportunity and bit down on his presented leg. Her broken and jagged teeth were like knives, shearing through the worn suit and into the stallion’s flesh.
He choked back a scream as he torqued and threw him off of her. The pain was immense, but it had for the moment sharpened his focus. Drawing his revolver out, he pointed it at the mare and fired. All three shots tore into the feral ghoul, stopping her cold on the ground.
The revolver clicked a few times, it’s hammer falling on each empty cylinder as the stallion’s mind worked to catch up. Panting heavily, the stallion’s injured leg threatened to give out under him. Bleeding and exposed to the outside world, he had realized the extent of his mistake all too late. Howls and yips of other feral ghouls filled the air, and the stallion knew he had to move.
Run. Hide. Survive.
Turning toward the closest ruins, he fled down a thin alleyway. Bleeding and whimpering, the stallion hobbled as fast as he could. His eyes frantically searched for somewhere to hide, falling upon the heavily charred metal form of an old dumpster. It’s top was still attached and open, which he figured would provide an easy enough way to secure himself once he was inside.
As the screams and thundering hooves of the many feral ghouls grew closer, the stallion whined and threw himself into the half burned out dumpster. As he did, he’d taken notice of the crispy corpse of a pegasus pony that already laid curled up inside. A pony who had perhaps thought to hide out inside, and was instead cooked alive? He paid no mind to even entertaining those thoughts as he fell in.
It was too late to chose another hiding spot, and despite the morbid discovery, the stallion had little choice but to join the unfortunate corpse. Just the impact of falling inside had closed the lid behind him, shielding him from the light of the outside world, and some of it’s only remaining noise. There, he sat in the confining, quiet darkness, listening as the dozens of shambling feral ghouls outside investigated their fallen sister.
Celestia, please don’t let them find me.
Stiffly, the stallion bit his tongue as he cowered inside the small box, too afraid to use his magic to help stem his bleeding leg. He fought against his strained lungs not to cough or wheeze. Instead, he applied pressure with his other leg, and prayed to Celestia that none of the roaming ghouls would sniff him out.
I’m a fucking idiot. He cursed himself for his stupid mistake. Letting ghosts spook me like that. How much extra time will this cost me? An hour, two, a day? Do I even still have the supplies to fix my fucking leg? The stallion fought the urge to lash out against the metal walls. No prize would ever have been worth this. Alright, I’ll just… deal with it when the shamblers leave. Taking long, slow breaths, he tried to force himself to calm down. I just need to take things one step at a time.
The clouds that blanketed the skies had darkened slightly again by the time the stallion had emerged from the burned out dumpster. He whimpered as he used his magic to pull the cap off his final and already mostly empty healing potion. Shakily, he pulled it up to his lips, quickly finishing off the rest of the bottle. He prayed that it would be enough as he lowered the empty glass container softly to the ground.
His breathing slowed as he pressed his back against the ruined and blasted building behind him. He found himself shivering and twitching as the healing magic worked to knit up the chunk of flesh that had been stolen from him. He hated the way that healing magic felt, and grimaced as he looked down at his newly repaired skin. While it had made his wound mostly whole again, it had not fully healed it. A shallow gouge was worn under his new skin, and the patchy radiation burns it had before still showed through.
The stallion opened his travel bags, dumping out the sparse assorted contents that he carried with him. As he did, the box with his remaining fancy buck snack cake tumbled to the ground next to him. Again, his stomach felt the need to let out a terrifically needy gurgle.
Picking the confectionary up in his magic, he removed his helmet with his hooves and tore the end of the box open. As he slipped the wrapped cake out, he wasted little time getting through the packaging, shoving the snack cake into his muzzle and chewing noisily. The flavor was overwhelming to him, it’s sweetness lost in the few moments it took him to scarf down the meager sustenance. He hadn’t savored it like he’d planned to, but still, he felt content enough to relax slightly.
His contentment didn’t last long, as his lungs seized up and he went into a hacking fit of painful coughs. More flecks of blood stained the interior of his helmet as he doubled over in pain. He let out a few retching dry heaves, and after a few moments, the stallion gave out a wheezing whine and tried to catch his breath.
Reaching his hoof over to his discarded helmet, the stallion tapped at his cracked faceplate. Each light tap was accompanied by spine-tingling crackles and crunches. Looking down at his supplies, he found the mostly used up roll of duct tape sitting among the pile. Carefully, he pulled the dull silver tape up and used his magic to pick at the end of the strip.
He applied a few short pieces to his mask from the outside before securing his mask back around his head. He listened as he breathed in and out, unsure if his patch job had been enough to seal the cracks. He sighed as he knew it would have to do for now, and that when he stopped for the night he could reinforce the inside. Looking back down to his supplies, his magic wrapped around the one towel he’d grabbed from his locker room stay last night. He’d intended to use it whenever it had rained again.
However, necessity now called for him to stuff it into the hole in his suit. He used his magic to cram it inside the torn out leg, bunching it up and wrapping it around the outside as much as he could. His magic maneuvered the roll of duct tape around, using it to bind the dirty towel securely to his leg. It wouldn’t completely seal his suit, but again, it would last until he could find the time to use his patch kit before he slept tonight.
The soft ticking on his rad-meter perked his ears as the wind droned through the empty, silent city. The stallion looked around, taking his surroundings into account again. For a moment, he’d worried that he might have gotten himself lost in his earlier fit of panic, but he did have one useful guiding marker. The blackened shadows that had been seared onto every brick, crevice, and facet of the ruined city worked well as a rudimentary compass. Every toppled building, tossed cart, and fixed object helped to show which way pointed away from the blast zone he’d seen yesterday.
The stallion recovered the things he’d dumped on the ground, stuffing them back into his travel bags. With slow, hesitant steps, he made his way down the alley and towards the corpse of the ghoul mare he’d shot. From his bags, he pulled his pistol out again and opened the cylinder. He let out a disappointing sigh as he pulled the three spend casings from it, looking at them for a moment before dropping them to the ground.
Shit. He shook his head as he softly closed the cylinder again.
Slipping his pistol back into his bags, the orange suited stallion turned and headed up the street, heading toward the epicenter of the city. The soft ticking on his rad-meter on his leg flared up again as he got himself to a trot.
It’s just the wind. He tried to convince himself as he pushed himself to trot faster. It’ll die down soon enough, I can’t waste any more time.
However, the incessant ticking was relentless, picking up faster the more he tried to ignore it. The consistent noised forced him to a stop, and angrily he brought the gauge up to his face. As he inspected it, the needle wavered a quarter of the way up the meter in the light breeze. The magical radiation was much worse following this path, and he could ignore his worsening rad-sickness no longer.
Should I go back? Looking behind him, the dark bones of the city sat miles down the road. He shook his head, sure that the risk of going through the downtown ruins was too high. I’ve already had enough of shamblers today. He had to stick to the outskirts of the city. As he sat there in thought, the wind dropped again, and helped his rad-meter to tick faster.
I just need some Rad-Away. He nodded. There’s gotta be some around here somewhere along the way north. Just a single packet will be enough for now… I just... have to find it is all...
“If you are hearing this…” The static filled voice of a mare resonated through the empty and lonely streets. “Sanctuary is real. Sanctuary... safe. We welcome all ...urivors who can make it to the north…”
His unsteady hooves shook on the teetering pile of rubble under him. The stallion listened intently, but his focus was not on the radio message that had started him on this journey so many months ago now. His prone body strained the charred boards that he was pressed up against, holding him up just high enough that he could see across the boulevard and into the small, dark grocery outlet.
“Food and medical treatm... available for all who make the journ...” The small radio secured to the top of a junk filled shopping cart fizzled with static. Each burst was accompanied by a higher stream of ticks from the orange suited stallion’s rad-meter. Then as it always had, the message ended, and the radio fell into a constant soft static.
Who does that radio belong to? The stallion scanned the dark interior of the grocery store for movement. Had they died from exposure, or did a shambler get them?
He questioned if he should just move on and search elsewhere, but like earlier in the day, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His eyes kept being drawn back again and again to the scorched pink butterfly sign that sat just inside the broken glass storefront. He licked his lips, anticipating the citrus flavor that the Rad-Away packets to be found inside surely still held. It was worth the risk.
A calamitous clatter came from the rear of the dark store.
A shambler?
The stallion paused on that thought as a softly glowing green light moved among the shadows in the back, revealing a glowing pony trotting from an unseen backroom. The stallion held his breath as the pony noisily made it’s way toward the front of the store. Empty cans and boxes were kicked out of the way as they approached.
The crimson coated unicorn mare who walked up to the shopping cart looked like any other ghoul to the stallion, but didn’t act like one. Most of her white mane had fallen out, and the yellow flower print dress she wore was stained with mud and dirt. Still, she dumped a collection of sparkle batteries and magical energy cells from her magic into her cart. Without any hesitation, the glowing mare turned around and headed back into the dark interior.
The ticking of the rad-meter felt like a ticking clock to the stallion. Each tick was one moment closer that he moved toward a painfully slow death in the silent city. He didn’t have time to sit and wait for this mare to finish looting the place. He meant to get whatever he could and bolt as far and fast to the north as his legs would carry him.
I can bluff all I want. His horn glowed softly as he pulled out his empty revolver again. He stared into the store as the glowing mare disappeared into the backroom again. If it comes to it, I’ll just run.
Taking several stiff breaths, the stallion nodded to himself. With a care to not make more noise than he needed to, he clambered back down from his perch on the old ruins across the street from the shop. His boots squeaked slightly as he skid down onto the dirt, but he was relieved to have the steady ground under himself again. As quickly as he felt was silent enough, he dashed his way across the street toward the store.
With his heart beating wildly, he came up onto the faded bricks that lined the storefront, pressing himself up against it. As he did, he pulled his revolver close to his facemask and carefully cocked back the hammer. Glancing over at the radio in the grocery cart, he could see the softly glowing face of it flicker, it’s wooden casing cracked and covered in soot. The static had most likely hidden the majority of the noises he’d made on the way over, and from inside the store, the sounds of the mare searching the back room hit his ears.
Peeking his head out, he took a quick glance around the store. Just in his initial look, only a few flickering lights still worked inside the various displays and coolers. However, one in a rear isle held his attention. Under a burned up Ministry of Peace pink butterfly sign, two packets of radaway sat pinned under a collapsed shelf. They were so many medical supplies with them as well, forgotten and untouched amid all the other various things in the shop. The yellow bags themselves glowed dimly as even now they cleansed the air around them of magical radiation. The stallion’s eyes were locked on them and how they alone backlit the need of every other medical supply he could potentially need in the future.
I need it all, the whole shelf if I can get it. The stallion’s focus wandered for a moment until he could reassure himself. Only if there’s time after the Rad-Away.
His magic reached out, making his horn shine brighter as a green glow enveloped the pinned pouches. Lightly, he pulled at them, yet they refused to move. Harder he pulled, slowly increasing the strength of his tug. The display itself shuddered, with the fallen shelf sliding dangerously close to falling down to the floor. The stallion let out a deep breath, pausing to think about how to proceed. As he did, the mare in the back slammed something to the floor, and the dislodged shelf clattered noisily to the ground.
Shit, shit, shit! The stallion cringed.
He wrapped his magic around the Rad-Away and pulled it stiffly toward him again. The startled mare’s hoofsteps came closer from the back room, and the stallion pulled back against the brick storefront as much as he could. He focused himself, pointing his revolver toward the back door as the mare appeared. He’d only brought the Rad-Away halfway across when her eyes fell upon the floating medicine.
The startled ghoul mare gave out a gasp as she saw the head of the ragged orange suited stallion pointing a gun at her from the front of the shop. She froze up on the spot, with her softly glowing eyes locked onto the stallion’s. Slowly, her glance shifted to the gun, and then to the Rad-Away packets that still hung in the stallion’s magic halfway across the room.
The stallion felt every bit as weak and feeble as he’d become with his heart pounding against his chest. Sweat beaded and rolled down his horn and forehead as they stood in silence. The ghoul mare moved slowly, making the stallion stiffen his shaky grip on his empty revolver. Carefully, she raised her hooves, offering him a nervous, if harmless smile.
It could be a ruse. The stallion thought to himself. Still, she doesn’t look like she has a weapon.
With a quick flick, the stallion turned the gun away, pointing it to the Rad-Away, and then to himself. The ragged ghoul mare seemed to understand, nodding slowly to him. The shallow, ragged breaths that filled his helmet made the stallion’s already strained focus drift for a moment. His magic faltered, and he was forced to chose between what to focus on.
His empty revolver clattered to the ground as he chose instead to firmly grip the medical bags. With a wheezing gasp, he pushed himself off the storefront wall and into a gallop down the road. The glowing bags quickly followed him as the ghoul mare scrambled and fumbled for the useless weapon. His hooves hammered and whisked him away along the wet and cracked pavement, splashing through errant potholes. Lost to him was the sound of the soft clicks and muffled obscenities offered by the mare behind him as he disappeared northward around the street corner ahead.
The ragged stallion huffed with long winded breaths as he ran, each draw eliciting a gurgling rattle from the filter in his suit. He worried that he would damage the filtration system with this much exertion, but he had to risk it. As hard as he could, the stallion continued, turning from street to street in a roughly northward direction while he searched for a place to lay low.
The next street he happened upon offered a shadow that stretched across the sky above him. The sight of the crumbling highway overpass overwhelmingly held his attention as he slowed himself down. He traced part of the collapsed highway back to the top of what looked to be a burned out four story office building, seeing that it made a makeshift ramp. As he thought about it, the burning in the stallion’s lungs caught up to him, and the stallion nearly stumbled to the ground before hacking and choking.
He was barely able to wrench his helmet off his head in time before his heaving coughs turned into him expelling a half of a stomach’s full of blood and yellow bile. After a few good wrenching heaves, he panted heavily, dropping onto the ground to try to regain his breath.
From his spot on the pavement, the stallion stared up into the dark, overcast skies above him. The opaque cloud cover wasn’t as solid today, and rays of sunlight cast down through various small gaps. He felt his mind empty as he stared at the serine sight above, and again he was surrounded by peaceful silence.
The stallion groaned as he regained his breath, looking over to see the two Rad-Away packets lying a hoof’s distance away where they’d fallen out of his magical grasp. His horn glowed again, and his magical aura pulled the two bags of medicine closer. Carefully, he pulled them against his chest, and rolled himself back onto his hooves.
It was worth the risk. Looking up at the overpass again, he spotted the burned out cab of a still upright shipping truck. The truck was a burned out hulk, but even so, provided more security and shelter than the stallion could have asked for on short notice. If I stay up there, I should be safe enough for the night.
The stallion, as many survivors now did, dreamt of happier days as he slept.
“Be careful up there, Amythyst!” A middle aged teal coated mare called out to a young purple filly playing in a tree. The bright afternoon sun radiated down through fluffy white clouds and the green leaves of the old oak.
“Okay, mommy!” *SNAP!* “Ahhh!”
“It’s alright, I’ve got you, hun!” The stallion groaned as he caught the falling filly in his magic. “Ooof! You’re getting to be a big enough girl that I can hardly hold you anymore!”
“Hehe! You did it though, Daddy! You saved me!” The young filly giggled as the stallion held her close. You saved me...
The stallion gasped for air. Wildly, the stallion fumbled at his helmet and tore it off of himself, throwing it across the interior of the truck with a noisy clatter. Sweating and wheezing, the stallion took long, labored gulps of air. Outside of the glow that the blast crater gave off, it was still dark outside. Too dark he surmised to have been anywhere close to sunrise.
He torqued himself around on the floor, and hoofed at the case on the back of his protective suit in annoyance. With a sharp click, the back flap to the air recycler flicked open, revealing two round talisman inside. The stallion’s horn lit up, flipping a small lever inside the case. With a squeak, he wrapped his magic around one of the two air filtering talismans and pulled it out. The talisman cracked in half, broken from its extended use. With an unceremonious toss, the stallion flicked the depleted halves out the open window of the truck.
That’s the last time I’ll forget to take my helmet off before sleeping.
He wished that he could more physically vent his frustrations, but he’d already made enough noise as it was. Instead, he reached out and grabbed his helmet again. He pulled it back to him slowly, squinting as his magical aura illuminated the empty Rad-Away bag clinging to the taped visor. He’d stowed the other one in his pack, knowing that he’d need it at some point down the road.
He stripped the empty bag away from the helmet as he put it back on. The rubber seals squeaked softly as they pressed together, and it’s pair of latches gave out soft clicks as they locked. After a moment of hesitation, the stallion took in a long, deep breath. The secondary filter talisman released a wave of stale air as he drew it in, and gave a soft hiss as he exhaled.
The stallion collapsed back onto the burned remains of the truck’s floor. Taking slow, deep breaths, the stallion fought back the resurfacing memories from his dreams. Still, it was ultimately a losing fight. He’d had nights like this in each of the previous silent cities before this one. He knew that if he fell back asleep, he’d only be brought back to the world that would never be again.
So instead, the stallion curled himself up and sobbed quietly, waiting for the sun to rise and brighten the dim wasteland skies once more.
Today… I’ll be done with this city, and back on the road to Sanctuary...
*Tick*...*Tick*...*Tick*
The rad-meter let off slow, intermittent crackles as the orange suited stallion wound his way over the rubble of a collapsed factory building. The leaking chemicals, combined with the rain that had swept through yesterday had left the patchy ground flooded with a mix of prismatic toxins. Deep, struggling gasps emit from the stallion as he climbed his way over one twisted pile of metal to the next.
The groaning from the fatigued and collapsed industrial buildings all around him made it hard to hear his surroundings. However, the stallion knew that it just as easily masked his own movements, and used that to move faster than he normally felt comfortable with. Solely on his mind, was the fact that just past the next building, laid the entrance to the highway that lead out of this city, and northward toward Sanctuary.
The midmorning sun blazed away above the dark grey clouds that hung overhead, and a smokey haze had drifted over the northern half of the city. As the stallion clambered over the last of the large, industrial ruins, he found himself looking out over what remained of the forest that once thrived around the frills of the city.
Stretching over the ever larger hills, the dead forest lay scattered among them like the littered bones of the old world. Some of the ashen, blackened trees still crackled as they burned despite the rain in the last few days. Flickers of green balefire among the dead forest still burned in sheltered pockets. But none of that interested the stallion, for a fair distance to the west, he could see the old highway.
Elated, it didn’t take long for him to make his way there. As with the other desolate cities, crowds of burned out vehicles crammed the highway entrance. So many had tried to flee the end. Attempting to save themselves had only worked to ensure their own demise. The stallion stopped at a collection of crashed taxi carts and looked around them.
The corpses of immolated ponies still sat in the empty husks of their failed salvation, most still laden with all the excess that the old world had convinced ponies was so necessary in their lives. The stallion debated going through a few of the vehicles for anything useful, but hesitated as he thought about how much time it would take. As he had done in the past, the stallion turned his thoughts away from the dead and their belongings, and instead, began to focus again on traveling the road ahead. His ears however, perked as the sound of hoofsteps greeted them.
Shit! With a soft gasp, the stallion lowered himself down. He looked for a place to hide, frantically searching for a larger hulk to hide behind. With a scrambling dash, he worked himself around the cab of an overturned milk truck before stopping to listen again as he pressed himself against the metal roof of it.
“Alright, we’re out of the city…” A labored, tired sounding stallion spoke up with a weak voice. “Don’t worry, it won’t be much farther.”
Please walk by… Cautiously, the orange suited stallion pressed himself up harder against the metal truck.
*Tick**Tick**Tick*
The rad-meter on the stallion’s leg kicked up again. He moved to silence it, but as he did, part of the truck buckled against the pressure he gave. With a metallic bang and the sound of shattering glass, something inside the vehicle fell and broke the bottles within. The orange suited stallion froze up, listening as silence filled the air once more.
“H-hello?” The stranger called out, pausing for an answer before a rasping cough worked it’s way from their muzzle. It soon worked itself into the same uncontrollable heaving that the orange suited stallion had become so familiar with on his journey.
Run or fight? The orange suited stallion thought as he took the stranger’s coughing fit as an opportunity to size them up. With hesitant, slow steps, he moved his way to the rear edge of the overturned truck. His legs wobbled under his tense form, but the rubber padded boots of his suit did their best to keep him quiet. Peeking his head slightly around the back, he cast his gaze on the wandering stranger.
The stallion was mostly cloaked in a thick wool blanket, worn over him most likely to keep the magical fallout off of him. The black coated stallion had open sores on him from magical radiation sickness, and what little of his pink mane he had left was struggling to hold on to his scalp. As the blanket laden stallion let out one last dry heave, the orange suited stallion noticed the green equestrian military fatigues that still clothed the stranger.
Hesitantly, the suited stallion pulled back around the side of the truck again.
“I... I guess I'm hearing things... again.” The stallion groaned as he began to shuffle forward. “Need... to get to Sanctuary. Come on, it’s only another day or two.”
Wait, Sanctuary? The orange suited stallion stiffened at the mention of his destination. Before the stallion got ahead of himself, he took a slow, steady few breaths. But can I trust him? It could all be a ruse. The blanketed stallion dropped into another fit of hacking coughs that broke the hazmat suited stallion’s train of thought. No, there’s no way he’s healthy enough to be a threat. Besides, what would Jasmine or Amythyst have thought if I let somepony like him die when I could have helped?
With a sigh, the orange suited stallion pushed himself up to his hooves, and walked around the side of the overturned truck.
“Wait.” The orange suited stallion called out, prompting the blanketed stallion to freeze up midstep.
“I-I ain’t got anything for you to take…” The blanketed stallion stood as stiff as a board. His words however felt as shaky to the orange suited stallion as half the rubble he’d crossed so far. “Bandits took me for e-everything already, except my blanket here. But y-you can have it if you want. Ain’t going to l-last much longer without Rad-away anyway…”
“Are you going to Sanctuary?” The orange suited stallion asked, praying to anypony that this wouldn’t be his last mistake. “If so, I can share the Rad-Away I have if you’ll walk with me.”
“R-really?” The blanketed stallion turned around, his jaundiced, tired green eyes teared up as his muzzle quivered. “That would be r-really nice.” His legs shook as he nearly stumbled turning around. “We haven’t seen anypony who’d even be so kind in so long…”
“We?” The orange stallion asked.
From under the black stallion’s blanket, a pair of sharp green eyes peered out. The small pink filly from the other day poked her muzzle out from it, stunning the suited stallion. To him, she was the ghost of his daughter, and to him, she was a second chance to redeem himself. She let a hesitant whimper escape her muzzle as she peered upon the orange suited stallion once more.
“Shhh, it’s okay little one. He’s going to be our friend.” The black stallion spoke softly to her before he turned his attention to the orange suited stallion. “I hope you don't mind, my daughter doesn't speak much around strangers, but she's who I'm trying to get to Sanctuary.” The stallion smiled as he pulled the thick blanket back around her, sheltering her from the outside world. “I think I can make it there, but she needs more rad-away if she's going to make it.”
“I… only have the one.” The orange suited stallion spoke up. His horn lit up, opening the flap on his pack and drawing out the single packet still stored inside. “But she can have it.”
“Thank you…” The black stallion broke down into sobs. In them, he was interrupted by another gurgling, hacking fit of coughs. This one was short lived, but to the orange suited stallion, it punctuated the urgency to stay on the road. Regaining his breath, the blanketed stallion continued. “We lost her mother, on the last day. She's all I got left.”
“Which is why we should get moving.” The orange suited stallion nodded before he started to walk again.
“Yeah, you’re right.” The black stallion groaned as he got his hooves back under himself. “The name’s Red Glare by the way.” Reaching a shaky, emaciated hoof around under his blanket, he fumbled to open a set of saddlebags he wore underneath.
He’s reaching for a weapon. The orange stallion thought as he felt his mane stand on end. Run. Get out of here.
“Sorry, I lied to you before.” The black stallion laughed as he pulled his leg back. He extended his hoof toward the orange suited stallion, holding out something small to him. A crumpled, bright yellow candy bar that had already been half eaten, but to the orange suited stallion, it was still a more welcome sight than any weapon. “We raided a small convenience store a quarter mile back or so. We’ve got a few more bars that we’ll gladly share.”
“Thank you.” The orange suited stallion spoke with immense relief. “To tell you the truth, I'm just glad I'm not going to be walking in silence the rest of the way.” Looking ahead down the line of burned out cars, the stallion felt a genuinely happy smile pull across his muzzle. “Even if it’s only a day or two, anything is better than being trapped in my own thoughts for once.”
With a sound that the orange suited stallion never thought he’d hear again, a laugh filled the air.
“Yeah, I hear that.” Red Glare nodded and gave out a scratch filled laugh.
Together, the three ponies smiled and talked as they walked away from the ruined city behind them. The world they’d know was gone, but for another few days, that didn’t matter to the them. For all the things that ponykind lost on the final day, the spirit of friendship had not perished, and instead lived on through the trio as they traveled northward in hope of the promised safe place to stay.
As they walked, they left the lonely and desolate ruins of the city behind them, and it became silent once more. The quiet city, once a shining beacon of equine progress, sat waiting for the next traveler to fill it with the thoughts, hopes, and dreams of a brighter, better tomorrow.
