“Applejack! I’m gonna need yer help!” Granny Smith called from downstairs.
Applejack trotted down the steps to come help with whatever Granny needed. She had just been out checking the trees for any vermin or diseases, and if she wanted Applejack’s help, that could only mean trouble.
“What is it, Granny? Which trees have it?” Applejack asked.
“Few on th’ far west side. I think th’ soil’s gone bad, hmmmm,” Granny said.
“Let’s go have a look, then. I reckon I can figure it out.”
“I need yer young eyes. Mine ain’t what they used t’be, and tain’t like nothin’ I ever seen. Soil’s all a bubblin’ and it’s killin’ the trees!”
“Wait, bubblin’?”
“Ehhh, it’s best y’come look fer yerself.”
Curious, Applejack followed Granny Smith out to the west acres of their orchard. As they approached, Applejack could smell something strange on the air. It smelled of mildew, like clothes that had been left to sit in a pile while wet. The smell permeated her nostrils as they approached, and she sneezed.
“Gesundheit,” Granny Smith said. She motioned with a hoof. “Just up ahead. Y’smell it don’t ye?”
“I smell it. Some sorta mold?”
“That’s what I thought, but I ain’t never seen mold do this!”
Applejack could see it in the distance as they approached, and broke into a trot, leaving Granny Smith behind. She got closer and could see that the ground was indeed ‘bubbling’. That was the best way to describe it, anyway.
Spherical mounds of earth were bulging up out of the ground. They were all over the place and of differing sizes, but all spherical. One had pushed up underneath a tree and knocked it over, leaving it to lie forlorn and ruined on the ground.
“Bubbles, I told ya. What do you make of it?”
“I ain’t never seen anything like it, Granny.” Applejack poked one of the spherical mounds with a hoof. Much to her surprise, it jiggled. Applejack jumped back. “Wut in tarnation?” It looked like a solid mound of dirt, but there was something underneath it. Something that seemed fluid, unlike the soil on the outside.
“Should I got fetch Big Mac?”
“Yeah, Granny. Go fetch me Big Mac and tell him to bring the shovel.”
Granny nodded and trotted back toward the farm house, leaving Applejack alone with the strange bubbles. She looked around, following the trail of them to see how far they went. They had spread onto the farm from somewhere, and before she started bursting them open to see what was inside, she wanted to know what she might be dealing with.
The trail led her to a pond not far away. The bubbles were coming from it in a line, stretching to the north from the pond, and there weren’t any going in any other directions, so whatever it was, it seemed to have originated from here. The pond itself had been on the property since Granny Smith and her family had arrived but hadn’t ever been a source of any problems Applejack had been aware of. Sometimes it was shallow, sometimes it was deep, and there was one summer it had almost entirely dried up during a drought, but it had always been there, and nothing strange had happened.
Applejack looked down into the pond, trying to see through the murky waters. It was fed by a minor stream that came and went during rainy days, but right now it didn’t move besides the wind or leaves falling into it. It was still, and a little stagnant. She stuck the tip of a hoof into the water, sending some ripples through the surface, but nothing happened.
“Applejack? Where are ya?” Granny yelled.
“Over here, Granny!” she called back.
Granny and Big Mac came running up behind her, following the trail of bubbles themselves. Big Mac looked spooked, but he was carrying a shovel and had on some rubber boots, with another set for Applejack.
“I thought we oughter bring some boots, if whatever’s in there is liquid,” Granny explained.
“Thanks, Granny. I think the source is in the pond here, but we’re gonna bust one of these and find out what’s inside. If it’s just water, we need to understand why and how,” Applejack said. “You ready, Big Mac?”
“Eeeeeeee-nope?” he said with a shrug.
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll bust it, you just stand back.”
Applejack slipped on her boots and they moved a small distance away from the pond to look for a smaller bubble. Whatever was inside them, Applejack wasn’t sure if she wanted it in the pond. So they backed away, found the smallest bubble they could, and while Granny and Big Mac stayed far away, Applejack readied her shovel.
She thrust the shovel into the bubble and was surprised to see it resist. The dirt on the outside barely shifted, almost as if it were stuck to the bubble inside. She pushed harder, trying to stab the shovel into the mound and unearth something, but the bubble stayed firm. When it didn’t burst under her assault with the shovel, she started scraping away the dirt on the outside.
“Wut in tarnation is inside this thing?” She scraped away the dirt on the outside, soil falling away to reveal a translucent membrane coating the bubble. Inside appeared to be a fluid Applejack was hesitant to call water, but was about the same color as that in the pond.
Applejack frowned. “Somethin’s in there. Get me the pick!”
Big Macintosh dashed back to the barn and returned soon with the pickaxe they used for removing rock and stubborn stumps. Applejack took it in her teeth and reared back. She swung the thing forward and struck the membrane with all her might. It dug in and tore through the membrane. Foul-smelling water spilled out of the hole, deflating the bubble. Applejack stepped to the side and let it drain, waiting the pick in her teeth.
“That smells mighty awful! Like somethin’ died! Are we sure that pond is sanitary?” Granny Smith said.
“Maybe not. Somethin’ fishy here.”
“Eeeyup.”
When the water was all out and soaking into the ground, Applejack stepped forward, grabbed the edge of the membrane and ripped it open. As the soil and sticky membrane tore away, Applejack saw within it her sister Applebloom. Attached to the outside of the bubble by what appeared to be an umbilical cord.
“Wha-! Applebloom? Was Applebloom not at home?”
“She… she was in the barn when I went to get the pickaxe!” Big Macinitosh said.
“Run and go check on her? This sure looks like Applebloom,” Applejack ordered. Big Mac dashed away, leaving Granny and Applejack with the Applebloom and other bubbles.
“What about the rest of ‘em? Do ye think they all have Applebloom in ‘em? And why?”
“Let’s find out.”
Applejack left the thing where it lay and took her pickaxe to another one. A bigger one. She tore it open, not waiting for the water to drain, and found inside that one a Granny Smith, similarly attached to the wall of the bubble.
Granny started breathing hard. “I… I don’t know what t’make o’this Applejack.”
“Me neither, Granny. I don’t understand any of this, or why they’re here.”
She tore into one of the biggest ones, and at this point she was sure she knew what to expect. Inside it, she found a large Big Macintosh, curled up in the fetal position, connected to the membrane.
“There’s one of each of us. That means…” Applejack looked around, hunting for one of medium size. It took her a minute, but she found one. “This is me.” She took her pickaxe, ripped it open, and tore through the membrane, scattering the awful-smelling mud everywhere. Sure enough, nestled inside that one, she found a version of herself, without her hat, curled up like the rest of her family.
“Wut in tarnation is going on, here?” Applejack said as she looked up to Granny Smith.
But Granny wasn’t there.
“Granny? Where’d you go? I’m really not comfortable standin’ here with creepy wet versions of us alone. And shouldn’t have Big Macintosh been back by now?”
“I’m sorry,” a voice said, and Applejack felt an impact on the back of her head. Something wet dripped through her hair, and she tried to cry out, but couldn’t bring herself to move. “This has been in the Apple family for decades, and it’s supposed to stay that way. We just have to clean up the mess a bit. Tradition, you know. Tradition.”
The End.
