GASP

The silence of the early morning shattered like glass. Hooting broke through the early dawn down the empty streets as a cart, pulled by several stallions, clattered up the road toward the mountain.

Still in her bed, Nurse Redheart woke up to the sound of rattling wheels and shouting ponies. She groaned and rolled over, but not five minutes later there came a similar sound as the first, shouting as they went up the hill near her house. It was followed by another, then more. With an angry grunt, Redheart rolled out of bed and went to make herself some coffee.

“Blasted celebration. And why is my house so damn close to the bloody road they all use? I guess that’s what I get for such cheap rent.”

She set the coffee to percolating and sat down to look over the ponies’ records that she had been going over for the past few days. There hadn’t been much at the hospital that needed taken care of, so the three ponies currently in were all that needed help.

It was a far cry from her time at Ponyville General, but if you were noisy enough and asked too many questions, what you got instead of a raise was sent out to the middle of Luna-knows-where to work at some Podunk hospital. Just rewards for being helpful, apparently.

She heard a particularly loud screech from the street and went to peek out the blinds. She blinked at the rising sunlight and looked down.

On the road, there was a large family of ponies, all riding in a big cart.

“Probably come from Canterlot, I bet,” Redheart mumbled to herself.

She sighed to herself. Families from all over came to Goodstone for the annual cycling and cart festival. They liked it because there was a huge flat area for them to all show off their carts, and they built hills and other things for tricks, and rode down the mountainside.

The city survived on tourism, and the on season was amazing, but off-season was terrible for everyone, and the place was nearly dead. She’d have a lot more patients with the upcoming festival of carts, but she’d have to wait for them to all hurt themselves. Until then, she had to go talk to Dr. Hang about his patients’ medical needs. He had prescribed too much medicine for all of them and she thought they were likely to get addicted. She didn’t want to think about that being intentional.

She shook her head and prepared herself for the morning. Breakfast was eaten to the tune of rowdy yelling. She showered to the song of carts wheeling up the street, and she dressed to the music of screaming children. When her morning was complete, she stepped outside and onto that self-same street to see a crowd streaming up the hill.

“Good morning,” said Redheart to the ponies crowding uphill. They were always so intent on getting there early, but ponies would be trickling in after the initial rush all week. If this initial crowd was any indication, it was going to be quite the celebration.

She just wished she’d known her apartment was going to be so close to it.

Work wasn’t very busy when she arrived. The three ponies who had been there before, recovering, were doing just fine. They all had too many painkillers and other drugs, but that would have to wait until Dr. Hang took time to talk to her. He was in his office doing whatever it was he did in there, so Nurse Redheart went about her routine.

Beds were made, supplies were checked, floors were cleaned and tools prepared for the inevitable injuries that would flood the hospital when ponies inevitably hurt themselves at the Festival of Carts.

“Nurse Redheart!”

She turned to look at Dr. Hang as he trotted up to her. “Dr. Hang! Good morning.”

“Good morning, Nurse, I understand you had a question for me.”

“Yes, sir. I was looking over the files, and I saw that you had prescribed painkillers for all three patients?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Well, one has a broken rib, one has a fractured leg—”

“Right before the Rolling Rock, too. A shame.”

“Yes, well, the third only has a split hoof. Not even to the flesh. That one shouldn’t need painkillers, and the others were given enough to last them well past their expected recovery date. I think—”

“Nurse Redheart, please,” he said with a hoof on his forehead, “don’t keep second-guessing everything I do. I understand you want to be sure everypony is taken care of in the best way possible, but you can’t keep trying to undermine my decisions. It is a waste of everypony’s time.”

“But doctor—”

“Please, Redheart. I have work to do.” He turned away from her and walked back toward his office.

Fuming, Redheart went through the motions of the day. She did as she was told, delivered medicine, bandaged injuries, and washed wounds. When the day was over for her, she stormed out, still seething.

She could hear the Rolling Rock festival up the street. It was in full swing by this point, and there was music and partying going on. It was quite a spectacle, and one she didn’t look forward to listening to all night. She stopped by a restaurant on her way home, grabbed a quick bite, and was carrying the leftovers home in the dark when she bumped into somepony. Her leftovers fell to the ground and spilled in the dirt. She stared down at them, feeling nothing at all for several seconds before she looked up at the pony whom she had bumped into.

It was somepony here for the Rolling Rock festival, she was sure. He was filthy, dressed in older clothes that were covered in dirt, muck, and old food. His face was gaunt, and he had on a medical mask that covered his muzzle. He wheezed at her and shook his head.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s all right,” Redheart said with a heavy sigh, “accidents happen.” She bent down to pick up the box. Nothing had stayed inside, and it was all laying on the filthy street below. “Are you here for the festival?”

He nodded and coughed. “Yeah. Here for the festival.”

“And are you alright? That’s a nasty cough.”

“M’fine. Just, you know, got a cough.” He coughed again, a rough, nasty, hacking cough. Redheart was sure she heard something come up, but he didn’t spit, nor did he swallow.

“Have you had it checked out? That sounds really bad.”

“Yeah, well, can’t go see the doctor about it.” He scooted past her, refusing to meet her eyes any longer. “You have a good night, ma’am.”

“Wait!” Redheart called after him, but he had taken off up the hill, and she wasn’t feeling like chasing him at all. “Ugh…”

She stomped back home, leaving the strange man to his fate. He had on a mask, and he wasn’t willing to see the doctor about it, so if he wanted to get killed from complications due to something as small as a cough, that was his right. It was a foolish right to exercise, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was just glad he was protecting others. She left him to enjoy the festival in what she was sure were his last few days as a living pony and went home.