A Speck in the Middle of Nowhere
The shot was quiet, nothing more than a nearly silent puff of discharging propellant. The shot flew true, landing into the wide, milky eye of the scrounging ghoul. The body simply slumped over, giving a final sigh. The straight pull bolt slowly withdrew from the firing chamber, and the spent casing tumbled to the grass as a fresh round slid into the vacant space. Meeting the round, the bolt slowly slid back into position, giving a small click to signal the weapon was ready.
Minutes pass. The shooter sits quiet. Fifteen minutes pass before another ghoul shambles over to the dead ghoul. Ignoring the corpse, the living ghoul crouched and begins tearing away at the frail corpse the previous ghoul was eating from.
Another silent shot. Another dead ghoul. A new round enters the firing chamber waiting to be sent to a new target.
Rain started to pour down, causing a haze to rise as the storm grew in strength. The shooter merely sits in the rain as drops trickle from the brim of her boonie hat. Her scope fogs up slightly, reminding her to watch her breathing.
Suddenly, there's movement to her left. Pulling back from her scope a bit, the mare eyes her environment from the corner of her eye. The shuffling continues. After a few seconds, a tiny field rat with a second head scurries through the underbrush. The mare gives a sigh of relief and returns to her scope.
A ghoul is staring right at her.
At least, that's how it looked through the magnified glass. In reality, the ghoul was still roughly fifty yards away. However, it seemed to know exactly where the mare was, and it looked ready to charge. Without a moments' hesitation, the mare fires her shot, watching as the .308 round hit the ghoul square between the eyes. The ghouls' body fell backwards as the upper half of its' skull ripped away from the bullets' velocity.
With a sigh, the mare lowers her rifle and looks up to the murky skies. The rain continued to pour down on her, making her raise a foreleg to shield her eyes from the drops. She turns her gaze from the clouds to the land around her. The meager crops off to her right were slowly becoming swamped in the forming mud. She looked back to the corpse the ghouls were eating from. At one point, the stallion was her farmhand and occasional lover. However, after getting plastered from a few bottles of Wild Pegasus whiskey the previous night, he stumbled out of the farm house in his drunken stupor and wandered into the wastes. He must not have gotten far in his state, because the mare woke up the next day to find a crowd of feral ghouls gathered around his body, eating away at him in a slow, methodical manner.
All she could do was roll her eyes and sigh as she grabbed her rifle to clear the crowd.
Now, she was alone again. Only Celestia above knew how long it would be before the next wandering farmhand would happen across her homestead. The recent death would make it four farmhands to have either died or wandered off on her.
Slinging her rifle, the mare stretches her wings and lazily floats her way back through the rain to the scrap metal shack she called her home. After closing the door behind her and landing on her hooves, the mare shakes herself free of any water clinging to her. After a quick kick of her hind leg to flick away some drops, she drapes her hat on a rusted hook and hangs the rifle by its' strap on the hook next to her hat. The rain falling on the tin roof rumbled through the two room shack. The room she stood in was her bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom all in one. The adjoining room was where any farmhands would sleep. When it was just her, the second room was her storage and generator room.
Walking over to the battered refrigerator, she opened the door and plucked a can of beer from the shelf. Turning and giving the door a kick to close it, she held the can between her forehooves and used her teeth to pry the cans' tab open. With a small hiss and crack, the beer opened and she took a few gulps. Holding the can in her mouth, she moved over to the damaged lounge chair that made up her lounge area. Plopping down onto the flattened cushion, she placed the beer can on the rotted wood stand next to the chair and looked to the radio across from her. She didn't want to move now, but if she wanted to listen to some music, she would have to.
Swinging herself off the chair, she approached the radio and turned it on. Static met her with a loud and obnoxious whine. Her ears folded back at the alarming sound as she quickly turned the tuning dials to find a better signal. After a few minutes of searching the radio waves, a smooth voice came through the buzzing static.
"...remember Applewood, the stars maybe long gone, but that doesn't mean you can't become a star yourself. Playing for you know are the sweet tones of Sapphire Shores as she tells us of Applewoods' glory days. Here's Shining Bright."
The smooth voiced speaker fell away to a fast, metropolitan rhythm, complete with piano and a saxophone. The singer broke in after a few minutes of instrumental as she began singing about the hardships of making it big in a large city. The mare wandered back to the chair and plopped down once again, taking another swig of her beer. With a quick burp, she turned a lazy gaze to the tin roof above her. After a few minutes, the rain outside began to lighten up, but it still sounded like hammering rocks against the tin. As she sat there, the music and rain began to meld into one sound, causing her to drift away into a nap.
~ooo000ooo~
The name of the mare in question for this story is not an important one. Even if it was important, its' not like she could remember it anyway. At one point in her life, she knew her own name. She would happily tell her name to others if introductions were involved. It was a name she could be proud of, one she embraced entirely.
However, through a series of events that continue to plague her nightmares, she ran from her previous life, taking with her a chance at escaping and her rifle. She ran and ran and ran until she couldn't run anymore. After running for so long, her wings finally gave out and she landed in the middle of nowhere.
Literally, the middle of nowhere.
And that was perfect for her; A no-name schmuck who could live out her remaining days in obscurity in the middle of nowhere.
When she landed, there was a nearby military caravan from the days before the world was blasted into ruin. Within the caravan, she found her generator, plenty of steel and tin she now used for her home, and plenty of ammunition that was compatible with her rifles' caliber. After a few days of scavenging and building, she finally made herself a home in the middle of nowhere.
A few days later, a trade caravan passed by her home, having stopped to investigate the new building that had suddenly sprung up on their route. The merchants were a friendly bunch, although taken aback at first when they saw the occupant within was a pegasus. The caravan guards had drawn their weapons on her, making accusations and throwing insults. She reassured them that she no longer associated with the entities the insults were meant for. After a few moments of tense silence, the merchant ordered the guards to lower their weapons. The merchant happily gave the mare some of his wares, free of charge. Even as the caravan walked away from her shack, the mare could hear the guards arguing with the merchant about him giving away his stock.
That merchant and his caravan no longer passed through her area. She presumed them to be dead when they didn't arrive on their scheduled date.
Now, it had been five years since she ran. In those five years, her life had become rather bland. She was always tired, even though her meager farm work didn't exhaust her in the slightest. All she could do was sit on her chair, sleep the day away, clean her rifle, and have a drink or two. Every now and then, she had gotten desperate for some company, having gone as far as making herself a life-sized stallion doll out of fabric and plant fibers.
However, her...activities with the doll brought her immense shame. Now it lays six feet under one hundred yards away from the shack.
With her only source of entertainment buried out of immense shame, her life resumed its' boring routine of waking up, checking the crops, and doing nothing for the rest of the day.
At one point, suicide seemed like an option, one she was ready to take. It wasn't until one winter morning that her isolation was finally broken. A knocking at her door had woken her up extremely early. In the haze of sleep deprivation, she grabbed her rifle and nearby blasted the poor stallion away when she opened the door.
This was the first of the farmhands that would visit her.
His visit didn't last long though, After repairing her generator and showing her how to do it herself, he went on his way once he realized she had no way of paying him for his help. Well, he did suggest one form of payment, but her mind flashed back to the doll she had buried and she immediately declined the offer.
And that's how it went for the next few months. New helpers would stop by, offer her any help, stay for a day or two, and just up and leave once she told them she had no payment. The fourth helper, the one who now laid dead in the field, was a repeat visitor of hers for well over a year now. She eventually warmed up to him and tried her best to have something ready for him to pay him. Usually it was a meager meal or a drink, but every now and then it was herself as payment, one he happily accepted.
He was so gentle with her too, as if he was afraid to break her. She welcomed the gentle intentions and so far, she was lucky to not have gotten pregnant.
But now, he laid dead in the field, and she was alone once again.
All by her lonesome.
A tiny speck in the middle of a wasteland.
A tiny, insignificant speck.
So why was this tiny speck suddenly the center of attention for a larger, malevolent entity?
~ooo000ooo~
The lack of rain wasn't what had woken her up, although it certainly could have been the culprit. What had woken her up was the fact that her radio was once again letting out the whining static of empty air waves. The droning noise had wormed its' way into her sleeping mind and stirred her with an aggravated groan. As she slipped out of her chair, she approached the radio and clicked it off.
The whining continued.
She blinked and flicked the power switch again.
The whining was growing louder. Her shack began to rumble under the power of something. Panic began to take a hold of the mare. She looked to her rifle and made a beeline for the weapon. Checking the firing chamber, she bolted out of the shack and into the night. The whining was everywhere now, drilling into her mind. Readying her weapon, the mare shouldered the rifle and began turning in circles where she stood, looking for the origin of the sound.
Suddenly, blinding light pierced the night, forcing the mare to throw her forelegs up to shield her eyes. Her rifle clattered to the ground as her wings sprang open to throw her out of the light. The light was quick to follow her movement, pinning her in its' beam. She lowered her forelegs and squinted through the light, trying to see what was causing the harsh light. She could feel the rumbling in her sinuses now.
A memory sparked deep within her mind. She knew this sensation. She had felt it before! She knew that sensation anywhere! The only thing that could cause someponys' sinuses to rumble was a-
"SERGEANT SKAV! YOU ARE TO SURRENDER YOURSELF TO THE CUSTODY OF THE GRAND PEGASUS ENCLAVE! RESISTANCE WILL RESULT IN YOUR ELIMINATION!"
Captain Suicide presents:
Fallout: Equestria - A Past Forgotten
Author's Note
Hello readers, I hope you enjoyed the story.
I cannot tell you how many times I've tried to write an FO:E story of my own, only to have it flop or get thrown to the wayside.
I won't let FO:E - Memories die like the others.
I will try my hardest to keep this story alive.
-CS
