Silver Lake

Moonlight barely pierced the thick cloud cover as snow fell across the landscape of Evergreen County, the mountains to the north loomed hidden almost completely by the cold mist while visibility in the rest of the county remained relatively high. It had been a couple weeks since Turner’s extended patrol, the Sheriff had agreed that perhaps it was best to simply close that portion of road for the time being as most traffic came by rail anyway and it had put his Deputy’s life in considerable risk. Of course, Turner pointed out that if he had fixed the heat in his truck it wouldn’t have been as big a problem, but it was hard to argue with the five feet of snow that had bogged down the truck.

So, there Turner was, sitting in his truck with his harmonica resting on the dashboard. The Deputy had been given the short end of the stick as he was the newest member of the department, he was the one that had to stay on duty for Hearth’s Warming Eve. It wasn’t all bad though, Sam had ordered a very fancy turkey from Canterlot and he’d managed to snag a leg and a couple slices before he had to get in to work. The town was dead quiet, allowing him to enjoy the turkey leg in relative peace. Silver Lake hadn’t been hit as hard as further north, there was only around three feet of snow on the ground.

“God… This is beautiful.” Turner mused as he examined the falling snow from his seat after finishing off his turkey leg, the radio playing softly in the background. The human radio station in Canterlot had an odd assortment of Christmas songs playing, at the moment it was playing ‘Colorado Christmas’ which helped to set the mood rather well. “I should be home.” The man sighed and looked at the picture of Sam he had taped to the dashboard, she had taken the news of what had happened on his extended patrol about as well as he expected. As usual he was wearing his bomber jacket and the hat that Sam had bought for him months ago.

She had been upset, mostly at Discord, but somewhat at Turner because of how calm he seemed to be. Turner didn’t much understand that bit, but he supposed she was used to people being a bit more open with their feelings around her. He had hoped that she would’ve come to know that he wasn’t hiding things from her, he just chose not to look at things as bleakley as others might. Still, he got why she was upset, at least he thought he did… Sam was always a little difficult to get a read on when she was upset about something.

”Unit Two, Dispatch.” Turner’s radio crackled with a mare’s voice, the deputy wiped his mouth with his sleeve before picking up the radio to reply. Dispatch for the county had been shifted over the Territorial Garrison for the holidays as they could handle the influx of calls a little better and because Buckeye didn’t feel like spending her evening in the dingy office.

“Go for Unit Two.” He said while turning on the headlights in preparation for what he assumed would be a call to go check on some abandoned house. Crank calls were always a bit more common around the holiday season.

”Report of a 12-49 on Blue Mountain, address is 4819 Grave Eagle Road.” The mare dispatcher replied, Turner’s instincts were spot on as he flicked on the lights and sirens and started tearing up the north road towards Blue Mountain. ”Caller reports the victim is not breathing, medical has been dispatched. How copy?”

“Affirmative, Unit Two responding. ETA fifteen mikes.” Turner said before lowering the radio and sighing, his optimism for the evening was shattered as soon as he’d heard it was a 12-49. In the radio code book of Evergreen County, that was the shorthand for a drug overdose. He wished he could say this was the first time he had had such a call, but having one happen on Hearth’s Warming Eve hit him a bit harder than he cared to admit. He took great care as he sped along the snow covered roads, the best he could average was around forty miles an hour, each of those fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.

The man cut the siren after he skidded to a stop outside the house where the call had originated, he took the keys with him as he made his way to the dilapidated old farmhouse. He could see lights on inside and the front door was slightly open, the cold wind occasionally causing it to sway back and forth on the rusted hinges. The lights were still flashing from his vehicle as he approached the front of the house and took up a position to the side of the door.

“Sheriff’s Department!” He called out, there was no response from inside the house. “Comin’ in!” The man drew his weapon, holding it pointed towards the ground with his finger off the trigger, before he pushed the front door open and entered cautiously. He checked the corners first, but so far all he saw was run down furniture and scuffed up wooden floors. The air stunk of burnt plastic, something that was relatively associated with Zebrican Night Terror. Turner gripped his weapon with one hand before taking his radio from his belt. “Dispatch, Unit Two.”

”Go, Unit Two.” The dispatcher replied.

“On scene, is the caller is still on the line?” Turner asked while he moved slowly and cautiously towards the kitchen area of the house.

”Affirmative, Unit Two… Report says the caller is a colt, he’s hiding in the living room closet.” The radio replied, Turner looked around the room and spotted the door to the closet in question, it was solid so he couldn’t see inside through any slats. ”Do you require back up, Unit Two?”

“Roger, they’re gonna need to come in by air, the ground is pretty badly covered in snow.” Turner said as he cleared the kitchen of anyone that could be hiding there.

“Territorial Units dispatched, ETA five mikes. Medical should be on scene sooner. Advise us if you require additional support.” The radio crackled.

“Copy, Unit Two out.” Turner put the radio back on his belt, the man gripped his weapon a bit tighter as he approached the the closet door. He stood to the side of it, as he had with the front door, and knocked on it a couple times. “Sheriff’s Department, could you open up?” Turner would’ve gone looking for the person who had overdosed, but his main priority was ensuring the child was safe first and foremost. The door slowly opened outward, prompting Turner to peek inside. An Earth Pony colt was looking up at him with bleary bloodshot eyes, he had been crying for a considerable amount of time. “Howdy there, kiddo… I’m Deputy Turner. Did you call for the police?” The colt nodded. “You said someone is hurt, where are they?”

“Mommy is in her room… She won’t wake up.” The colt said nervously, Turner holstered his weapon and gestured for the colt to come outside. “Are you going to help her?”

“I’ll do what I can, but first I have to make sure you’re safe, okay?” Turner said quietly as he knelt down so he was more on the colt’s level. “Is there anyone else here in the house with you?” The colt shook his head, he was pretty frail looking, his navy blue fur was matted and he smelled like he hadn’t had a proper bath in a week. “Okay, I need you to come with me, okay? We’re gonna go somewhere a bit more safe.”

“O-Okay…” The colt replied as he walked out of the closet, Turner picked him up in his arms, the man was stunned by how light the little pony was.

“What’s your name, bud?” Turner asked as he walked the colt outside towards his truck, in the sky above he saw the flashing lights of the medical ponies that had been called, also dispatched by the Territorial Garrison. They touched down a few feet from the truck, prompting Turner to make his way to them.

“I’m Sea Mist…” Three ponies hopped out of the chariot while the fourth unhooked himself, Turner stopped in front of them as one moved towards him and the colt.

“Okay, Sea Mist? I’m gonna leave you with this nice mare here while I go check on your mom.” Turner said before gently handing the colt off to the pegasus mare who happened to be wearing blue paramedic coveralls. The colt was reluctant at first, but didn’t resist. Turner walked back into the house with two other paramedics, making his way to the bedroom where Sea Mist’s ‘Mommy’ was. It was not a pleasant sight, in fact Turner was quite sure that it was one of many that would stay with him for as long as he lived. The room looked like a bomb had gone off, clothes and furniture haphazardly tossed about except for the mattress resting on the floor at the center of the room.

Turner walked to the foot of the mattress as the two paramedics moved to work on an earth pony mare lying face up at his feet. Her eyes were wide open, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she had aspirated on her own vomit, a syringe was still stuck in her foreleg. Her purple fur was matted just like the colts, her light blue mane straggly and stringy like a bird’s nest.

“She’s in rigor...” One of the paramedics said after doing a couple checks. “She’d have to be like this at least two hours to get this stiff… Maybe three. Nothing we can do.” Turner shook his head slightly and looked at the floor while the paramedics began to pack up the supplies that they had taken with them into the house. Turner rubbed his chin as he looked around the rest of the room, there were signs that at one point this house had been a happy one. Pictures on the walls depicted the mare on the mattress, smiling widely with the colt he had just seen.

“God damn it…” Turner said quietly as he began to take stock of the scene, writing down everything he saw on his notepad as the other Terrie units arrived and began to take their own look at the scene. Evidence was bagged, photographs were taken, but in the end it was pretty clear that the mare had overdosed. Still, that didn’t stop Turner from being as thorough as possible. He went through the closets, finding mostly forgotten pictures and dusty cardboard boxes that had likely been sealed for years. What hit him hardest was looking through the kitchen and finding at least three dozen different bottles of alcohol, most of them empty or near empty. Years before, on Earth, he had had a similar experience in his own home.

They found the mare’s stash of ZNT hidden under the mattress, as well as the rest of the kit she used to get high. Her name was High Wire, for whatever it was worth. During his search of the house he found the colt’s room, it was lined with a lot of toys, many of them fuzzy and cute despite the disarray. The bed was made, mostly… The room was clean, for the most part… It didn’t make things easier that he would have to be the one to deliver the news, on Hearth’s Warming Eve no less, that the colt would never see his mother again… Alive, at least.

The man quietly grabbed one of the toys off the colt’s bed, from the amount of patches in the stuffed alicorn he could tell that it was likely his favorite. Turner walked through the house, his boots echoing against the wood floor as he stepped outside where a couple more chariots had landed. Turner walked towards the medical chariot where he had left the colt, as he expected the paramedics were tending to him. His boots crunched the snow as he slowly removed his hat with his free hand, the man stopped near the chariot and offered the colt the stuffed alicorn toy. As expected, Sea Mist grabbed it right up and hugged it tightly.

“Is mommy okay?” He asked, the paramedic looked between the colt and Turner. The Deputy swallowed the lump in his throat and quietly knelt down so he was eye to eye with the stallion, holding his hat under his arm. “Can I see her?” Turner forced himself to maintain a stoic expression, it was the first time he would be telling someone their loved one was dead and it had to be a kid of all things on that night of all nights. “We need to be in bed so we can get presents tomorrow.”

“I’m… I’m afraid I have some bad news, Sea Mist.” Turner said quietly as he looked at the ground briefly, before forcing himself to look back at the colt. “Your mom isn’t okay…” He was in the reeds here, but he had to step up here, he had been the first one on scene… It was his responsibility. He decided to give him the same talk his father had given him about his grandfather’s death when he was young, it was the only thing he could think of. “Your mother is dead, Sea Mist. I’m sorry, everything that could have been done was done. The most important thing you need to know is that she loved you very very much, and that this is in no way your fault.”

“B-But… What about Hearth’s Warming?” Sea Mist asked, Turner was surprised to see that the colt seemed to barely register what he had just been told. “Mommy said that if I was really good I could ask for anything… I was good, I want my Mommy…” Turner almost lost his composure there, the boy’s statement had practically crushed him. “Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no you didn’t do anything wrong.” The paramedic cut in, Turner looked at the mare and nodded his thanks, she could see on his face that he needed a couple seconds to sure up his expression.

“Where am I gonna go?” Sea Mist asked, his eyes starting to well up with tears. “I want my mommy… You were supposed to save her, why didn’t you save her?” The colt quietly hugged his stuffed alicorn and did his best to bury his head into the paramedic’s side. The mare gave Turner an expression that told him that he should go, all in all it seemed she was okay with what he had said… Now it would be her job, and the job of the councilor at the closest hospital, to help Sea Mist make sense of everything. The paramedics had arrived from the Territorial Garrison, which was far closer than the hospital, so it was likely to take some time.

Turner in the meantime walked back to his truck and hopped inside, he gripped the steering wheel quietly as he put his hat back on his head. In silent contemplation he sat there for a couple minutes, watching as the paramedics wheeled a black body bag out the front door while Sea Mist looked on from his place near the medical chariot. The deputy picked up his radio and quietly spoke.

“Dispatch, Unit Two…” Turner stated.

”Go ahead, Unit Two.” The mare on the other end replied.

“Backup on scene is wrapping things up, I’m RTP, how copy?” Turner’s eyes were glued to the scene ahead of him, after a couple moments he heard the radio crackle.

”Affirmative, Unit Two. RTP forthwith. Closing out the call.” Dispatcher’s voice cut out once again, leaving Turner to sit there in silence as he turned off the flashing light bars and reached to start the truck. He would RTP, or Return To Patrol, shortly… For now, he needed a minute to process things. This was the latest in a string of similar cases of overdoses, all on Zebrican Night Terror, it had started after that first train had arrived that fateful night. Turner’s eyes narrowed and his face began to grow taut with anger.

“Whoever the fuck is putting this in my county… They crossed a fuckin’ line.” Turner said under his breath as he turned the key, the engine rumbling to life before he put the truck in reverse. He pulled back out of the driveway and back onto the road, his grip on the wheel was tighter than usual. White knuckled and frankly pissed, Turner began to drive down the road once again towards Silver Lake. The Sheriff had been doing his best, they all had, but with only three people they were fighting a losing battle… They needed more deputies, more equipment… More everything.

They had tried going through channels, they had tried talking to Princess Celestia herself, but the result was the same inaction… Now ponies were overdosing and it was affecting families, it wasn’t right. As the night went on their were thankfully no more calls for him to respond to, around one in the morning his shift ended. He returned to the Sheriff’s office to finish the last reports and clock out, yawning slightly as he rubbed his eyes.

The night’s events were running through his head while he waited, he couldn’t get over just how light that colt had been… Like he hadn’t had a good meal in who knew how long. He wished he could’ve stayed and helped, but once the Terries were involved protocol said he had to get back to his patrol. What shook Turner the most was the fact that this was the first time he had seen a dead body and not had the urge to leave the room. He just did his job, like it was routine. In his mind he knew that getting upset wouldn’t have solved anything, but in his heart he felt like he had lost something...

Turner adjusted his shirt and looked at the clock on the wall, waiting for the Sheriff to come in and relieve him. His paperwork had been all but finished, all he needed to do was check his grammar. At around one twenty the door opened and the Sheriff stepped in, wiping his hooves on the mat before removing his stetson and hanging it up on the hat rack. The older stallion was carrying a thermos of what likely was either coffee or soup, his badge in full view on his long oilskin duster.

“Mornin’, Turner.” Long Wire said as he walked to his desk and put his coat on the back of his seat. “Busy night?”

“Just one call… Another 12-49.” Turner replied tiredly as he corrected a spelling mistake on the sheet of paper in front of him. “Vic was a twenty five year old female earth pony, looked like she aspirated on her own vomit but we’ll need the Terrie’s coroner report to be sure.”

“Son of a bitch.” Long Wire said with a growl as he leaned against his desk.

“Family Services will get us a report on her son too…” Turner added, which made Long Wire’s expression become a bit more sour and grim. “From the looks of it, he hasn’t had a decent meal in a week, maybe more? I ain’t no doctor.” Turner put his pen down quietly, staring at the page ahead of him before he leaned back in his seat. “What the fuck are we gonna do about this, Sheriff? Whoever’s pushing that shit is getting away scot free and the bodies are piling up!”

“I don’t know…” Long Wire said while examining the various awards on his desk. “I got at least a dozen fugitives back into custody, all they gave me was these damn plaques.” The Sheriff picked up the first award on his desk and looked it over disdainfully before he tossed it back down. “We need more eyes on this, local eyes... Not those Terries or NEBs.”

“We have Mourning Cloak and his guys, if anyone could help us track whoever’s pushing this shit it’s them.” Turner suggested, the Sheriff looked at him with an uncertain expression before sitting at his desk and reaching back to his coat. He removed his badge from the coat and looked it over in his hooves, then set it down on his desk. “Damnit, Sheriff. He’s got some of the best trained guys in the county.”

“I start deputizing changelings and the Terries will be on our ass faster than you can say Security Risk.” Long Wire replied with a sour tone, his eyes turned to the badge on his desk once again. “You know how long I been doin’ this, Turner?” The Deputy shook his head. “Goin’ on forty years…” The Sheriff set the badge down on the desk and sighed, running a hoof over his grey mane. “Next shift, I want you to head out to the Buffalo Tribal Police, see if they have anything in their files that could help.” Turner nodded quietly and began to get up from his seat, then started walking towards the time clock. “Deputy Turner…”

“Yeah, boss?” Turner asked, turning around to look at the Sheriff again.

“If you happen to accidentally mention any of this while you’re chewing the fat with Mourning Cloak, best you not tell me about it. Comprende?” The Sheriff asked, Turner paused before nodding quietly and punching his time card. “Alright, now get home.” The Deputy began walking towards the front door. He stepped out into the cold winter night, placing his hat atop his head and taking his coat from the rack. It was officially Hearth's Warming Day, but Turner found himself lacking any sort of warmth as he made his way to the truck even after pulling on his leather bomber jacket.

With a stoic grim expression, Turner started the engine and began the trek home. In his head he repeated his montra, the Serenity Prayer, over and over again… Despite that, he didn’t feel serene. A boy had lost his mother, on this day of all days, and that was something Turner didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget. He neglected to turn on the stereo, and turned down the volume on his radio. The only sound in the cab was the rumble of the engine and the crunch of snow outside the cab as he made his way home. He nearly missed the turn to the driveway as he went through the deep thoughts in his head, sifting through them like the ashes of a house fire for anything that could bring him solace.

The man parked the truck behind the house as usual, then made his way through the path in the snow he had walked many times. The snow was still falling from earlier, the scent of burning wood greeted his nostrils as he got closer. From the chimney on the side of the house he could see the smoke was rising in the light given off from inside the house. Turner walked up the steps onto the back porch and wiped his shoes before opening the door and going inside, the air of the room was warm and inviting. He stood there for a couple seconds, eyes panning across the room at the various little bits of decoration that Sam had put up for the holidays. The most notable part was a decently sized tree in the corner which was decorated with homemade ornaments.

Turner closed the door behind him and hung up his coat and hat near the door before walking as quietly as possible to take a seat on the couch in front of the low burning fire. The man untucked his shirt and removed his belt before leaning his head back for a couple seconds and looking up at the ceiling. For several minutes he sat in silence before straightening up again and turning his attention to the fire, briefly he got up and tossed a couple other pieces of wood on from the pile.

Once he was sitting back on the couch, Turner reached into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and removed his harmonica. The soft notes of ‘Silent Night’ floating up from the instrument gradually filled the room, and eventually made their way down the hallway towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. Turner’s eyes remained focused on the fire, the dancing flames and crack of burning wood transfixing him almost as much as the music he played. There was no way he could sleep, not with the pent up nervous energy that had formed, playing soothed his nerves and his mind.

The man was slightly surprised when someone sat down right next to him, but he didn’t stop playing for a moment. Sam, wearing her nightgown, had come from the bedroom and was sitting beside him on the couch. Well, more leaning on his side than sitting. She didn’t speak, she just listened to the music and the soft sounds the fire put off. After a couple minutes Turner reached the end of the song and lowered the harmonica from his lips, tucking it back into his pocket before putting an arm around Sam.

“Rough night?” She asked quietly with a tired expression, Turner nodded and looked at the floor with a rather distressed expression. Sam watched him start to wring his hands, his calm face starting to give way to a more emotional one, his eyes watered and he took a couple deep breaths. “Paige… What happened?”

“Another OD…” Turner said quietly, wiping his eyes. “T-The lady’s kid called it in…” Sam heard Turner sniffle slightly, he was holding back so much. “T-This little colt… Barely weighed a thing, hadn’t eaten a good meal in god knows how long…” The man leaned forward, scowling dejectedly. “I… I had to tell him ‘Mommy isn’t okay.’. The first time I ever have to inform someone’s family and it’s to this lady’s goddamn kid on this night of all nights…” He looked over at Sam when she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry I woke you…”

“I was planning to get up when you got home anyway, at least for a little bit…” Sam replied, continuing to hug him tightly. “I wouldn’t want you out here alone while you’re thinking about this stuff.”

“I’ll be okay, I just… Need to process some things.” Turner admitted as he leaned against Sam and hugged her back. “I love you, Sam…” Sam smiled softly as the two of them began to relax against one another on the couch while the fireplace continued to fill the room with warmth.

“I love you too, Paige.” Sam replied softly as she let out a little yawn. “Now, shut up so we can get some sleep…” Turner let out a soft chuckle but didn’t say a word, the two of them eventually drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms on the couch. They’d likely wake up with sore necks, but that didn’t seem to occur to them at the time. The day to follow would likely be spent at home, though they didn’t much care to call it Hearth’s Warming Day, it was more apt to call it Christmas.