A Black Horse

“When He opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, ‘Come and see.’ So I looked, and behold, a black horse.”

-Revelation 6:5-6

I sank deeper into the cold, black abyss. There was no light, and no surface. Nothing anywhere. Nothing at all. And still I sank. And then I woke up.

The darkness melted away and was replaced with the pale yellow shine of the sun from behind the thick stormclouds. It’s been cloudy like this for more than three months now. Rumors say it was caused by a nuclear meltdown from a plant a few hundred miles away from Ponyville. The radiation caused a flux of stormclouds to rise over the wasteland. Smothering us under a blanket of our own guilt.

They may have been able to prevent the reactor from melting down if there was anyone alive to prevent it. An influenza outbreak occurred somewhere near Yakyakistan infecting hundreds in just a few days. In a few months it mutated to infect anthros as well. That was six years ago. Now almost everyone is either dead or infected.

I found the strength to get out of bed and start moving. People started working real early around here. Mostly we gardened and baked but some of us liked to hunt and trade. Mostly just to pass the time. I’ve been using a 50 lbs recurve bow I traded for a pair of army boots and a pack of cigarettes. It needed a new string but it would still get me through the day. What I could really use was a hot shower, but luxuries like that were as common as gold these days. I used to think things would get better, that we would contain the virus and restore some infrastructure and normality to our lives. But things only escalated, and eventually. I stopped hoping and got to work.

Once I got the rest of my clothes on I attached my hunting knife onto my belt and threw my bow over my shoulder. I carried two arrows with me. I used to use a quiver but it bounced and rattled when I ran, plus I can shoot faster when I carry them. The first place I liked to go in the morning was the firepit. It was a large circular bit of rocks that the town used as a central cooking station for heating water and cooking small game. If you could provide your own resources, then you can use the pots and pans.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small baggie of ground coffee and some loose leaf green tea. I emptied the contents into the french press that wasn’t being used and filled it with some hot water.

“Hey is that coffee?” One of the settler boys asked me.

“It’s my last bag.” I said dismissively.

“I’ll trade you my acorn necklace for a cup of your coffee.”

“No chance Glen, I only have enough for myself.” I wasn’t about to share any of this delicious black gold for something I could make in an afternoon. After I finished my joe I made an audible aaah noise to piss off Glen. Then made my way to the picnic bench area where they were handing out some bread and corn. They had enough to sustain us for now. But if you wanted something different for dinner. Then you had better be a good shot.

“Morning Al.” One of my hunter buddies walked over and handed me a piece of bread. I go by Al because it sounds more intimidating than Alayna. That, and my bad girl persona is what helps me keep my coffee. It’s a dog eat dog world.

“Hey Chris. How’s the end of the world treating you?”

“Better than most I can only assume. I have to hunt with a slingshot now but hey, the boots are comfortable.”

“Well maybe you’ll find a shotgun.”

“Yeah...maybe we’ll find a chinese jet pilot.” We both wanted to get started with the salvaging early today. We made our way out of the town and into the woods. We never strayed too far from Ponyville because if somebody got hurt, then they would have to be carried all the way back. Also, the closer we got to larger cities, the higher the risk of coming into contact with infected people. Touch the wrong piece of clothing, or drink from the wrong water source and soon you’ll have trouble breathing, a painful cough, and a ninety percent chance of your world turning dark forever. It was always best to be on the safe side.

The tall pine trees were already starting to wilt from the lack of sunlight, and the needles were losing their greenish sheen. Normally there would be birds chirping and insects buzzing, but it’s been pretty quiet lately.

“We’ve had to trek further and further to find any game out here.” Chris said.

“Maybe we should start hunting in the towns. I’ll bet we’ll find some twinkies down there.”

“We’re running out of options. I’ll even settle for an old hershey bar.” Chris said only half joking.

The last time anyone got near the next town over. They were chased off by marauders. Crazy wasteland people who played the role of psycho doomsday killers a little too well. They will always say they’re infected whether or not they were. Anything to scare you out of their current territory. Having run out of options, we decided to scout out the town from a distance. Only way to tell for sure, was to see for ourselves.

We nestled down on top of a berm that had a few trees and bushes which concealed us from the town below. We could see the shops and houses being overgrown with weeds and vines. And the streets were littered with broken down cars, shopping carts, and piles of whatever the marauders had decided to burn. It was best not to think about it. I looked for any signs of people down there. Smoke was always the first indicator. There were a few crows picking at some scrap on the ground. That was a good sign. Seeing no signs of danger I scouted out our target.

“There, the grocery store.” I pointed.

“You mean the one with the barricaded doors?”

“You see that metal pipe on the side? We’ll climb up that onto the roof, then drop in through one of those skylights.”

“Then how do we get out.”

“We’ll figure that out on the inside. If we have to, we’ll break a window.”

“Sounds like a bad plan. Let’s do it.”

We slowly crept down the hill until we got to the first building. There was plenty of grass and bushes to conceal us as we approached the town. Nature had been slowly reclaiming this place for years. I looked down the alleyway that separated the buildings. I could see the grocery store across the street. There easily could have been traps left for us but that didn’t stop Chris from marching straight on through. His actions were communicating that it was all clear. But being careful is what’s kept me alive for this long. We looked across the street both ways and saw nothing, so we bolted across the street and made it to the pipe. I put my arrows in my mouth and climbed up as fast as I could. Chris followed close behind me. We wanted to make a quick entrance. If anyone was going to spot us, it would be during these critical moments. Once on the roof, we surveyed for our way inside. Chris was about to break open a skylight but I saw a metal hatch that would be far quieter.

“There, over here.” I whispered as loudly as possible. The hatch was missing it’s padlock but that didn’t mean anything significant. It just meant whoever was here before us had cut it off already. If it were still locked, then I might have been worried. I turned the handle and slowly opened the hatch with a feint creek. “Yes.” Chris whispered. Both of us hastily crept inside. The ladder lead down into the back room of the grocery store. It was dark and full of cardboard boxes but I could still see well enough to make out the isles and shelves that made up the store. The light from the front windows dimly illuminated the wreckage of shopping carts and cash registers that were propped up against the sliding doors. Whoever was in here, really didn’t want anyone getting in. It looked like someone had held out in here for a few days. It was obvious enough that neither of us had to say anything. You learned to pick up on these things with experience. Both of us slowly scanned the isles for anything worth grabbing. There was nothing but empty cans, dirty clothes, and broken shelving units on the floor. This place was cleaned out. I felt disappointed.

“Hey Alayna. Check it out.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Look.” Chris pointed at one of the check out isles that had a makeshift shelter set up in between them. It was difficult to see but it looked like that’s where the person was sleeping while they were hold up in here. Suddenly Chris’s demeanor turned extremely cautious as we carefully approached the mysterious shelter. As I loaded up an arrow into my bow, Chris slowly lifted the tarp to reveal a fully decomposed skeleton lying down on an old ratty sleeping bag. We both felt relieved as we allowed our heartbeats to slow back down. We took some time to search the body and its surroundings for anything of use. Bodies almost always had interesting things on them.

“Holy shit.” Chris said as he examined the possessions of our recently deceased friend. “This guy had everything.” As Chris shuffled around, he found some packages of peanuts, Band Aids, .38 Special rounds, a stainless steel water bottle, and a Winchester revolver.

“Well it looks like we found that chinese jet pilot after all.” Chris said as he opened the cylinder. There was one casing loaded that had already been fired. It was obvious the person had taken their own life. Most likely in response to getting infected. Usually it would be a bad move going through all his stuff like this. But the virus can only lie dormant on surfaces for a couple of days at best.

I picked up a personal radio that was next to the body. It was one of those radios that could be charged with a hand crank. I cranked it up a few times and turned the knob which created a little static. This, on top of the revolver, plus some ammo was a miraculous find. I scanned through some radio stations to see if I could pick up anything. It was highly unlikely but still worth a shot. As I scanned through the AM stations I could hear a frequency getting picked up. It was a song I think. I adjusted the dial a little bit further until it was clearer.

“Turn up the radio! I need the music gimme some more”

This was the first time either of us had heard music in a very long time. Both of us went silent as we let the memories start coming back to us. I remembered listening to this back in highschool. It was a very different time back then. And I was a completely different person.

“Turn up the radio! I wanna feel it gotta gimme some more”

I was fourteen and my father and I were living in Manehattan. I was halfway through my freshmen year of highschool. I liked taking drama classes the most. All of the math and science classes bored me to death. I passed with Cs in them. Philosophy was alright I guess. I passed with a B - because the teacher liked my writing style and artistic background. He told me I had potential as a young philosopher. Funny how things worked out. What little time I spent with my dad he would usually spend teaching me about wilderness survival. Mostly basic stuff he learned in the military like building shelters, filtering water, and finding food. Other than that, he didn’t talk about his military years that much, all he told me was that he was a technical engineer in the National Guard. Whatever that is. He didn’t talk much about mom either. Sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to him.

“We should head back.” I said abruptly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. This place is sucked dry. I shoved the radio into my jacket pocket and headed back up the ladder. Not caring whether or not Chris would follow me. We didn’t talk much on the way back to town. Chris knew something was bothering me, but he knew better than to ask.

I didn’t eat that night. Even though I could have traded the radio for some fish, I decided to keep it. I put it on my nightstand as I tried to get the music station playing again. I messed around with the antenna and scanned through the AM stations some more. I didn’t find a single frequency. “What a piece of garbage.” I switched over to the FM stations. Nothing but static all the way through the 30s and the 40s. Then as I got to the 50s, something started coming through.

“...........anyo…...me?.......”

I desperately picked up the radio and ran outside with it to try to get a better signal. It was huge to come into contact with another group. For years we thought all other communities were long gone. I held up the radio as high as I could. Slowly turning the knob until I found the frequency at 52.525 MHz

“This is Sam Stabbles of the Equestrian National Guard. I am broadcasting on all frequencies to whoever might still be alive out there. We are at Fillydelphia Radio Station. If you can hear me we have food, shelter, and security. If you are infected, we can help you.”

Everyone quickly started gathering around to listen to the radio broadcast. Everyone was astonished to hear that others were still alive out there and that they not only had a functioning radio station, but a way to help treat the infected. For the first time in six years there was hope.

“My father. He’s alive.”