Forty-eight hours since the first infection.

♣ ♣ ♣

CHCHCHCHCHCHKKKKK

A pegasus’s ears flattened against his skull. A unicorn pony in a navy blue long-sleeve vest jammed the keys into his locks. His hoof locks were already removed, but the dreaded wing restraints remained. Ponies sat in the waiting room, waiting for their conjugal visit. He had never gotten a conjugal visit during his time, he preferred to stick with one-night stands.

Not even a family member had visited him, his mom was hospitalized for cardiac arrest not too long ago, and his dad beat him growing up, so why would he care?

The keys clicked, the officer beside him sighed and smirked. Magic lifted him into the air and threw him out of the city jail. The guard laughed and slammed the glass door shut when he fell muzzle-first into a puddle of water.

He groaned, sitting up from his surprise bath. The rain beat down upon his gray fur. He lifted his wings to try and cover himself, but the embossed feathers from the tightened constraints exploded into a fiery pain.

His head swiveled as he observed the city around him, an abundance of ponies, griffons, and changelings raced to their jobs. What time was it? Nine, maybe ten?

The skyscrapers over Fillydelhpia hit him, the giant buildings, filled with bodies of all assortments of creatures. Many pegasi and griffons were flying five stories overhead, casting their shadows down upon the city in a seemingly endless light show.

He stood up from his puddle, tangling his feathers together and pushing upward.

“Urrrrrrrgh.”

He sighed in relief and dropped his wings down to his sides again. He set off south down the city, trying to remember his way back to where his apartment was. His apartment was located in District Twelve, widely considered the poorest district out of the Eighteen. The northern districts were where the lucky bodies lived.

He went for a little sight-seeing in the rain, District Fourteen was a nice place, a lot of diversity, knowledgable ponies, cops.

Cops.

The corrupt bastards, Completely left districts Twelve and Thirteen to rot. That’s where the majority of crime goes down, and it’s the place he could rob a store and lay low for three days and get away with it.

He turned down the block, dodging a coughing pony nearly a few feet away. A Griffon hot dog vendor was calling for ponies to come and try his hotdogs, but he thinks they forgot ponies were herbivores. He caught some looks when he sold to a griffon couple, though.

He was just about to pass into District Twelve before he saw a banner covering almost the entire length of a fourteen-story building. The banner flapped in the wind, with big black words reading:

CLEAN HOOVES SAVE LIVES!

He scoffed, observing the black water droplet directly below the sentence, then at the bottom, the word “CEDA” stretched to fit the poster near the bottom. A worldwide agency was freaking out over a flu outbreak. An outbreak they deemed to be a “Flu.”

He pushed himself into an alley. A nice shortcut to dodge traffic and head directly to his apartment.

“Spare bits?” An old, homely earth pony coughed into his hooves, laying on his cardboard bed and makeshift trash covers.

He informed the pony, “sorry, if I had any spare bits I wouldn’t be coming from the city jail.”

“Oh,” the old stallion erupted into a coughing fit. “That’s alright,” he coughed, “gods be with you!”

“I wish you the best of luck.”

The pegasus took a step back to look at his apartment: broken shards of glass and boarded windows served as the only viewable scenery. It was a five-story apartment complex decorated by two poorly maintained bushes sitting outside and at the bottom of the steps in pots. Many of the rooms were abandoned. Save for a few poor bodies, himself included.

He looked up into the spiraling staircase. Normally he’d fly up them, but now he’d have to trot. Frowning in displeasure, each step he took hurt worse than the last. He got to his floor, the third story, and strode past his floor-mates. He didn’t have much connection with either of them, one was a stallion who lived closest to the steps and the other was a mare who lived across from him. The only thing he knows about the stallion is that he always leaves his apartment door open, although he still hasn’t seen what he looks like. He could only infer it was a stallion because he saw a mare he had never seen enter his apartment four days ago. He has met the mare, on one occasion. She reeked of cat piss during that occasion. When she opened her door, her apartment was even worse.

He opened his apartment door, the final door on the left, and trotted inside.

He slammed the door shut with his back hoof, dust fell from the crevices and cracks around the door and to the floor. He kicked the dust into his dust pile in the corner and went into the living room. A single, torn gray couch faced a box TV that sat awkwardly on the floor. A round table stood to the left of the couch, with a small buffet lamp placed off-center from the middle. It was hard having to reach the middle, so he pulled the lamp closer to the couch to turn the light off. His bed had caved in three months ago, but he never bothered replacing it—he enjoyed the couch a lot more.

He trotted into his kitchen, a single five-foot-tall fridge sat in the corner, a rusted stove to its left. He managed to find an old microwave in some dumpster only mere weeks ago. Everything in-between the stove and microwave was just cabinets. The ones on the floor, almost neck-high in height, morphed into a poorly maintained countertop for all his unenthusiastic meal preparations. The ceiling cabinets, one the other hoof, were prepared to fit any food if he ever were to buy any. Take out was much easier to prepare anyway, just pull it out of the bag and indulge.

He opened the bottom compartment of the fridge. A brown bag of a half-eaten hayburger sat on the top shelf, the middle was empty, and laying comfortably on the bottom shelf was a spilled beer.

’Damn it.’

He sighed, placing a hoof on the dirtied marble counter. He pushed himself up and placed his second hoof on the small, rectangular handle. Stupid carpenters, it’s all about being ‘politically correct’ in this world. Everything has to be built to accommodate for minotaurs because “minotaur lives matter!”

He pushed the tip of his hoof through the small hole and pulled the cabinet open. It didn’t budge. He brought his second hoof up and stuck it through the other side of the cabinet. His hoof-tips just barely touching. He grunted and pulled with all his might.

The cabinet unhinged. He fell flat on his flank with a loud thud.

’I hate minotaurs.’

He dropped the broken cabinet door to the ground and jumped to his hooves. Balancing himself on the countertop again, he peered into the cabinet interior.

’Empty.’

The other cabinets, while they didn’t break when he pried them open, also contained no drinks or food.

His stomach growled.

’I guess its hayburger with a side of contaminated city air tonight.’

He tossed the hayburger into the microwave and plugged it into the outlet.

Beep!

Frantic knocking barraged his worn door.

He took one, long breath. “Coming!”

Bam. Bam. Bam!

“Celestia’s sake, I said I was coming!” He ran up to the door and turned the handle.

Bam! Bam! WHAM!

The door flew open, denting the wall it smacked into. A grayed-out yellow fur mare, with substantial blood coating her muzzle and hooves, lept onto the pegasus. She went for his neck, but he panicked and threw his hoof up and into her mouth. She bit down. Hard. The pegasus screamed in agony and kicked her off him, she landed back first into the cabinets. Another cabinet partially became unhinged from the force. She tried to move, but her spine had broken. The mare—no, the vampony was paralyzed.

The pegasus jumped to his hooves and grabbed the cabinet before that had come unhinged.

THWACK!

CRACK!

The mare wasn’t moving, splinters of the cabinet mangled her face and fur. He scooted himself beside the mare.

“Huff. Huff.”

He stood up, his legs trembling over the seemingly increased weight he possessed. He tossed himself to the couch and used it as a prop to keep himself up. He sat there for a moment and, with one final inhale, he bolted to his bedroom.

He disregarded everything in that filthy room. His eyes were locked on one thing. His drawer. He peered into the dark box and pulled out his trusty survival kit. A P220 semi-automatic pistol, three fifteen-round magazines, a wooden stake, and a frame vest to hold the gun and ammunition. Before he equipped his vest, he hopped over a pile of used sheets to reach his closet where his prized possession hung proudly alone on a hanger. A minotaur-styled vest, shrunk down to fit him three years ago. It didn’t have any sleeves, as minotaurs often preferred to show off their biceps. It helped with mating, or something, although it was probably just a way to boost their egos.

He pulled his hooves into the holes of his vest and wrapped his belt around his back and stomach, securing it with two clicks.

ChhhhCK!

Pulling the slide of his pistol back with his hoof, he flicked the safety on with his wing and slid the barrel into his holster. The pistol faced backward, allowing him to quickly pull it out with his opposite hoof and begin shooting. The vamponies have finally revealed themselves. It was time to fight back and take his place as the almighty vampony-slayer pegasus!

He trotted and stopped in his doorway. The trashed apartment he called home, he was finally leaving this place for good. Breathing a sigh of relief, he trotted down the hallway to that stallion’s room. A trail of blood streaked across the floor heading to his room.

’He’ll become a vampony.’

He trotted into the blackened apartment and searched the wall for a switch. He couldn’t see a damn thing!

“Aha!”

He found and flipped the switch upward. He covered his eyes to let them have a chance to get used to it. Slowly, he let his hoof down. The room was just like his, but more barren. He didn’t think that was possible. A blue couch, covered in blood, faced nothing. No TV, not even a box one.

‘Poor bastard.’

He propped his two hooves on the back of the couch and looked over. A giant, pool of blood outlined a gray pegasus. His body was beaten and his neck was oozing out any blood it had left. His face was left mortified from being attacked. The gray pegasus, the alive one, looked at the trail of blood, similar to the one in the hallway, that ran over the couch.

He didn’t want to waste any bullets, but the pony wasn’t turning, yet. He looked around the room, the only notable things were a bookshelf with four books on it, a golf club and bag, and a spilled cup of water.

’Fore!’

He jumped onto his back hooves and came down on the skull of the dead pony, then he did it again and again. He did not stop until the face was unrecognizable to even their mother. He’s not taking any chances, what good is a vampony-slayer if they can’t prevent more from popping up?

He slid the golf club handle first into his right sheathe. The building shook as a helicopter flew overhead. A hardened, booming voice echoed throughout the streets below.

“To anybody who can hear me, stay in your homes. Martial Law has been authorized. If you are seen on the streets you will be shot on sight!”

’Well, that’s no fun.’ He trotted out the door and into the hallway, when did authorities ever stop him?

He looked at the stairway. Groaning and turning his head to the other end of the hallway, his face brightened with an idea. He smiled, running full spring toward the window. He jumped through the window, three-stories above the street. His sore wings strained as he attempted to glide to the ground. He was only a story up before his wings gave out, he steered himself into a trash pile in an alley across the street.

Slamming muzzle first into the trash pile, he mentally cursed as he rolled over on his already fatigued wings. He took one, long breath and closed his eyes. He smelt smoke, then his ears came back to him. Screaming and gunfire filled the air.

’The vamponies have been preparing for this.’

Griffons and ponies ran by the alleyway, yelling in terror. Shrieks and growls grew louder as the seconds ticked by, before one growl he heard was closer than expected. He looked up, an upside-down homely stallion, with blood covering his neck and muzzle, shrieked at him. His ears flattened and he winced as the stallion charged him.

He panicked, pushing his body around one-eighty in the trash pile, the pony dropped onto him, his muzzle opened to bite into his neck.

He pulled his back hooves up, catching the leaping pony’s stomach and guiding it over him. It landed back first into a rusted dumpster. The pegasus turned one-eighty again, hugging himself with his left hoof as he pulled his gun loose. He flicked the safety off with his other hoof and aimed.

BANG!

The bullet shredded a hole through its chest and out the left side of its flank. The vampony fell just shy of him, but quickly got to its hooves and charged him again. He slammed the barrel into the vampony’s mouth and used it as leverage to push himself up to his hooves.

BANG!

He ran out of the alley. Ponies, griffons, changelings, even a few minotaurs and Diamond Dogs ran to safety. Either in their homes or to the police station. Speaking of police, two cops were shooting a few unaware vamponies who were eating another cop.

He pushed through a group of bodies to get to the cops. He observed the beaten bloodied corpse. He could see the blood and saliva mixed at his neck and stomach where the vamponies had bitten him. The two cops, an orange stallion, and purple mare looked up at him. The orange one spoke, “proceed to your home, peg. We have this under control.”

He looked at the pair and chuckled, “under control you say? I’m glad I’m safe knowing Equestria’s finest are here to help,” his eyes rolled.

The orange pony sighed, opening his mouth to speak. The pegasus shoved him out of the way hollering, “look out!” and aimed his gun. He bullseye-d a vampony griffon in the head–a vamgriffon? Yeah, a ‘vamgriffon.’

The mare helped the officer up, “thanks.”

“So, what’re you cops doing in District Thirteen?” he inquired, “last time I checked, we were forgotten by you blues.”

“I signed up to help clear the scum from the streets,” the orange pony informed, “so did, Alyssa, here.” He pointed to the mare behind him.

She backed up in between them, “I don’t mean to alarm you two, but we got a big group of infected coming this way!”

The orange pony spun around, “how? It’s only been ten minutes!”

“Exactly! Call the boss over the radio!”

The trio peered down the street. A large group of vamponies was headed their way. All of the bodies caught still outside their homes barreled down the street toward them, a mix of hungry ponies and vibrant, fearful ponies.

Alyssa yelled, “we can’t shoot into the crowd, there still are ponies in it!”

The orange cop clicked off his radio before agreeing, “then we’ll have to run.”

“What? We’re supposed to protect and serve, Clark! We can’t run!”

“Alright, then stay and try to shoot the infected point-blank while simultaneously trying to not hit any alive ponies in the crossfire!” He argued, shutting her up immediately. The pegasus didn’t know a cop could be so heartless, he loved it.

“Come on!” The cop hollered, turning tail and running down the street. He and Alyssa followed behind him, with a horde of intermixed vamponies, vamgriffons, and vamchangelings behind them. The panicked screamed of alive ponies slowly dwindled into distant echoes from different blocks. The trio bolted into an alleyway. Four civilians chased after them, hoping to be saved by the ponies with guns, a few vamponies and a vamgriffon chasing their tails a few yards behind them.

The pegasus foolishly stopped, letting the four civilians run past him. He fired blindly into the group of seven. Two fell down causing the vamgriffon to trip over them. The ponies were only two yards away before he turned around and ran.

He saw a green pegasus waving for him to hurry up, they were on a three-step entrance to a big red door with the sign ”Exit” above it. He bolted up the steps, the green pony practically shoving him inside before slamming the door closed. The lights flicked on, revealing the others. He saw Alyssa and Clark, panting out of breath. The green pegasus aforementioned barred the door closed with a stool. The outside getting barraged with banging. Sitting in a swivel chair was an old burly unicorn, he adorned a white bushy beared and was holding a shovel held firmly in his hooves. The next was a cyan earth pony, he couldn’t be over twenty, he held nothing and sat with his back propped against a white desk. Speaking of desks, the room was covered in them. Windows on the left side gave them a clear view of the outside world. He heard a helicopter flying overhead, what sounded like machine-gun fire hitting flesh and tearing bones. The entire place was littered with thrown and ripped office papers, many ponies left in a panic. A blood trail followed down the stairs and ended in a pool of blood in the middle of the room.

No corpse, though.

A cough came from the corner of the room, a yellow unicorn, more than likely middle-aged, covered her mouth. She held onto a pocket knife and was squeezing herself as far as she possibly could into the corner of that wall.

Clark was the first to catch his breath, “anypony here get bit?”

A collected group of no’s echoed through the room as he sighed in disbelief. He checked Alyssa and ordered her to check him, he looked to everpony else in the room and commanded, “we’re going to be thoroughly checking for bites, from what we know, the infection spreads by blood contact. I can’t see any marks on your fur, but I’m not risking dying because of laziness.”

The group nodded begrudgingly. They sat and waited for their turn to be checked. The green pegasus, cleared. The bearded unicorn, cleared. The cyan earth pony, cleared. The list went on with no injuries found, then they got to the coughing yellow unicorn in the corner.

She was clean.

Clark smiled, “let’s keep it that way, come on ponies, catch your breathes and let’s get to the roof. It isn’t safe with all these windows.”

“Agreed,” Alyssa nodded.

“I’m with ya,” the old pony sat up.

“Gods be with us,” the cyan pony pulled a necklace with a golden crescent moon at the end of it.

The gray pegasus begrudgingly agreed. He wanted to kill some vamponies, but there would be another time, hopefully.

The yellow pony nodded and moved to the circle of ponies.

The green pegasus looked at the group and mumbled to himself. He sat there, unable to make a decision. All eyes were on him before he caved in. “Fine.”

“We’ll go through names when we get to the roof for the rest of you, but this gray pegasus here saved my life,” Clark pointed to the gray pegasus, “I want to know the name of my savior.”

“Francis,” the gray pegasus answered.

Author's Note

I wrote without a proofreader, so please tear me apart in the comments. I can’t get better at this if I’m not told what could’ve been better to write or visualize, what should have been scrapped, etc...

Sorry for making it one chapter if I managed to pique your interests.