Equestria: Left 4 Dead

Forty-eight hours and ten minutes since the first infection.

♣ ♣ ♣

"Run the plan by me one more time—I'm trying to grasp the absurdity behind it," griped the green pegasus in a properly-tailored suit. "We should have stayed up on the roof. A helicopter was bound to find us eventually."

"Nicholas," began Clark, "how many times do I have to tell you? Nobody is responding to my distress calls; we're on our own."

"I can't believe you right now, Clark. What happened to 'for the good of the ponies?'" Alyssa asked. She hadn't been too keen on the plan. Clark had proposed they go to District Two and find a train. A train for gods' sake! It was crazy, and Francis loved it.

"The 'ponies' are trying to kill us, Alyssa!" Clark shouted, swinging around to face the purple earth pony.

"I say we give it a chance!" stated the old red unicorn in a rough, fierce voice. "The once congested roads out there are now scattered with those 'infected—'"

"Vamponies." Francis corrected.

The yellow unicorn murmured behind him, "I-I assure you, Francis, they are infected—have you not been listening?"

"No, I have. My brain takes what I hear and summarizes it into actual words. 'Hungry, blood-crazed monsters looking to convert healthy ponies into their ranks: vamponies."

The yellow unicorn sighed and settled her back against the wall again, pushing down to a seated position.

The cyan pony finished his mumbling prayer. "We must decide quickly, or else these demons will figure out our hiding position. The banging may have seized, but the bloodshed has not." His R's were heavily rolled, and his deep voice did not fit his scrawny looks.

"Either you come with us, Nicholas, or you stay here. Alone." Officer Clark discarded his empty magazine into his pocket and reloaded a full one into the M1911.

Everypony slowly shifted toward and behind Clark. Everypony besides Alyssa, that is.

"Our job is to protect and serve," she mentioned, her hoof pointed accusingly toward Clark. "I will not abandon my ponies."

"Our job was to protect and serve. Can't you see, Alyssa? Look outside for Luna's sake! It's a bloodbath, and there is nothing we can do to stop it. If we go out there and save one, maybe two ponies, then we'll die. But if we find a train, and escape, we could very well begin to warn and save other ponies closer to the west—perhaps saving hundreds of more."

Alyssa opened her mouth, but then she closed it and glanced outside. The infected ponies aimlessly wandered through the streets, with no sense of purpose or direction. Two thoroughly alive ponies were cornered in an alleyway, using their guns as glorified clubs as they tried to fend off the onslaught of infected. They were quickly overwhelmed, their bright colors becoming masked under the bloodied rainbow above them.

She grew fond of the floor, staring at it for the following minute of silence.

Nicholas, the green pegasus, stood there with widened eyes and an opened jaw. He shook his head and trotted over to Clark's side. Alyssa soon followed in silent steps, not daring to look anypony in the eye.

"Let's go," she mumbled.

Francis cleared his throat, "What happens now?"

Officer Clark trotted to the windowed doors and peered out. "Now, ponies."

chhCK!

"Let's get to that train."

He shoved the door open and ran out. The five ponies followed after him and down the road. Abandoned carts were scattered around the streets as the blazing sun overhead illumined all surfaces below with a golden radiance. Infected ponies were beginning to notice the survivors, and they were beginning to gallop towards them.

The red stallion's horn glowed and grabbed the shovel off his back. The yellow mare noticed and did the same with her pocket knife. They set up a border on both the left and right sides of the additional four ponies. Nicholas flew high into the sky, shouting out any infected who were getting too close to the group. Francis, Alyssa, and Clark kept their guns holstered as they sprinted.

They had barely made it to the end of the intersection, but a pocket knife and shovel can only shred through so many bones.

The young mare's pocket knife zipped through two infected ponies. It had just pierced the third before a scream interrupted her focus. An infected pony had caught up to the group from behind them and tackled Francis. He cried out as the pony mauled his back with a volley of strikes.

A shovel flew by, beheading the pony and the next following directly behind it.

Nicholas descended down and shoved the carcass off Francis. He stretched his hoof and eased the pony up.

"No time to rest now!" hollered Clark. He was raised on his two back hooves, struggling with another reared pony for his neck. He struck the pony in the left cheek and flung it down to its side against concrete.

The group resumed their pace down the next intersection and pivoted left. The unholy screeches of those pursuing them were growing louder and louder with each passing block. Every intersection they advanced through steadily attached at least a dozen extra infected ponies to pursue them.

Nicholas yelled down to the ponies with guns, "Start shooting damn it!"

Clark yelled up identically as loud, "Shooting requires us to stop and turn—I am not stopping!"

They were nearing the third block now. With the abundance of ponies chasing them still rising, they detour into the plentiful alleys amongst buildings. The various alleys had one green dumpster in the heart of it all, stuffed to the rim and encircled by black trash bags. There was a modest grey barrel in the alley one over. It had been set on fire, shining anypony's features and the surfaces nearby it. The kindled barrel alley divided into two more distinct alleys, one had an enormous wooded wagon blocking it, the other dead-ended into a broken-down doorway.

With ponies pursuing them, they all dashed right and bolted into the open doorway. Dozens of crates distributed upon racks tall as the room itself served as a maze for the panicked group. The infected ponies had begun flooding into the crate maze mere moments later.

They had just begun to circle the exterior of the maze, when the cyan preachy pony hollered, "There's the exit!"

He rushed ahead of the group and toward the door. He reared up to finish the last few steps on his back hooves and break down the door with force, but then disaster struck.

An infected griffon burst through the crates from the opposite side of the racks and grabbed the cyan pony, pushing him against the wall. It beat him as every other infected pony had before, but its claws made the work a great deal more lethal. The group was several moments away, they couldn't stop to shoot—too many ponies behind them wanted to kill them as well. A pocket knife flung forward to stop the griffon.

But the deed had been done.

He was breathing, but his mangled coat and figure transformed his color from a brilliant blue into a damp crimson. His crescent moon necklace sprawled against the ground beside his head. The gods did not protect him.

He could not speak, his wide-eyed expression and gurgling sounds did enough signs for the group: he was a goner.

They left him.

Clark shouldered the door ajar and hurried everypony inside. When the old stallion finally made it inside, the door was slammed shut. The frenzied banging was the only sound as the group caught their breath. They were in a dim corridor, with numerous darker rooms that contained a singular office. At the end of the corridor, it veered left. Blinding sunlight seeped into the hall from that secondary hallway. A helicopter darted by overhead, its thunderous engine attracting any infected ponies or non-ponies in a five-block radius to it.

The banging ceased. The sounds of various claws and hooves racing away gradually evaporated into the distance.

"W-we've already lost one," the yellow mare stammered.

"That's why I didn't want to ask any of you for names," coldly responded Clark. "Not until we get on that train."

"If." Nicholas added.

Clark ignored Nicholas's remark. "We're still in the slums. District Two is only the next one over—maybe one or two blocks to go. Then, we get to the train station. Sadly it's on the far right of the district, and we'll be entering on the very left."

"Then we better get going," Alyssa stated softly.

Clark winced at her beaten posture. She was hunched down, never daring to meet the eyes of anypony around her; nevertheless, he acknowledged, "C'mon ponies, all we need to do is stick together." The group accompanied him down the corridor. They shifted left to the next hall. It wasn't another corridor, it was a reception room. The shattered windowpanes left hazardous glass throughout the room. The front entrance had also been torn off.

Tracks of blood concentrated into one closed room. A room they nonverbally agreed to never enter.

Their trot to the next intersection was skeptically peaceful. Not a single infected wandered in the street.

"Maybe they're on break," the old stallion joked as he and Francis laughed.

"Nah, old stallion, they're probably more scared of us than we are of them!" bellowed Francis.

"Will you two quiet down—you'll get us all killed," hushed Clark.

The old stallion rubbed his eyes, "The name's Jack, what's yours?"

"Francis," he cheerfully answered.

"Well, Francis, glad to know somepony here has a sense of humor."

The group neared the edge of the following block and cut the corner to the right. They thought they had made it out of District Twelve, but it wouldn't be so easy.

An enormous black fence obstructed the entrance to District Two. A few cops were dispersed on the other side. One of them laid lifeless upon the ground, while the other trotted around and banged their hooves against concrete walls. Clark returned to the group.

"We gotta go around."

Alyssa's eyes darted around. "Let's take the shortest route—the building attached to the fence on the left there is secured shut, but we can force our way in through the windows."

"It's too much noise," Clark noted, "I don't want to lose another group member so abruptly."

Alyssa sighed, "There are a plethora of buildings, Clark, take your pick."

Clark nodded, "This way, I saw an unhinged door not too far down here." The group slowly backtracked down the block. The eerie presence of distant gunshots and enraged howls picking up again. Another helicopter flew by, a military Black Hawk, it was heading toward Mercy Hospital.

"Maybe they're evacuating," claimed the yellow mare.

"Either that or they're just tryna shoot everypony they see to contain this mess," suggested Jack. The group's trot ended in front of an open entrance to an IT building.

Clark faced Jack, "You go first."

"Do what now?" he questioned.

"My apologies," he quickly stated, "You have magic, so you can simply generate a forcefield to shield yourself as you clear any rooms we may encounter."

He blinked, his eyebrows raising ever slightly. "Why can't she do it?" he suggested as he pointed to the yellow unicorn behind him.

She shook her head.

"Surely you don't want to endanger a mare," he pressed.

Jack glanced at the mare. Then peered into the blue sky above. He muttered a curse before locking eyes with Clark again. "Fine."

Jack pushed Clark out of his way and entered the building. His horn sparked as a red magical wall tall as the room appeared into view. He squinted at Clark, then trotted down the hallway with the group approaching after. The rooms around them were all locked, and they were also clean. Not a single blood droplet could be witnessed.

"Will ya look at that, all these precautions you took amounted to nothing," snarled Jack. Their trot had ended to a back door, with an exit sign above the door.

"We need to practice being cautious so we don't lose another member. The cyan stallion died because he galloped ahead," reminded Clark.

"But if we take too long, we risk ending up in a worse situation—a situation that could very well be our last," countered Jack.

"Calm down you two, let's not butt heads until we're out of this forsaken city," Francis demanded, stepping between the two.

They shifted aside and grumbled their curses for the opposite. Francis nodded to the other ponies, "Are you ponies ready?"

"Read for round two!" Jack declared cheerfully.

Francis kicked the door open, profuse amounts of golden rays darted into the room. He shielded his eyes as the group galloped through the door one at a time. He blinked several times and galloped through the doorway. Jack and the yellow mare were hard at work with their magic, decapitating anything that dared charge toward the group. They hastily made their way down the street, leaving the ineffective gate and cops behind them.

The next block reminded them they were still in the apocalypse. Infected ponies crashed through windows and doors, appeared from alleys and behind abandoned carts, and one even fell off a roof to catch them. It didn't survive.

With the growing horde behind them, their pace quickened. Jack and the mare holstered their melee weapons, with the mare opting to close the pocket knife and gallop with it under her hoof, and Jack levitating it closer to his side, to focus their minds on going as fast as they could.

More gunshots, this time an unending sound of firing, erupted off in the distance. The horde behind them numbered well over five dozen now. The street they veered on was the last road. All they had to do was follow it to the train station, only half a mile down the road.

The only problem being the new horde in front of them.

The group halted to survey the chaos. A helicopter had crashed in the middle of the road, dragging any concrete it had crashed against along with it. Small pockets of fire and debris were littered across the street. A second horde, perhaps another six dozen infected, had surrounded the crashed helicopter—and now they could hear the frustrated shrieks of the first horde behind them.

The two hordes had them surrounded. Two rectangular carts that had somehow crashed into one another and had numerous planks shattered and pointed upward became their defensive hill. A hill the infected would gladly charge right into gunfire to take.

Gunfire, this time, was a key factor in this battle.

All three ponies unholstered their pistols and hastily discharged into the crowds of grey-tinted ponies and griffons. Jack and the yellow mare ready their weapons once more and propelled them through the necks of anything it came in contact with.

The uninterrupted gunfire in the background did not let up, and neither did the gunfire on this blooded road. Francis had climbed atop one of the wooden carts, placing his left forehoof on the side of the cart while he shot with his right. The yellow mare had pulled herself up and onto the other cart for a better view of the situation. She had placed her efforts on the left side to help Alyssa, who had been alone. The rest of the ponies, besides Nicholas, had created a circle around the cart.

Flying high above the group showing no emotions and offering no assistance was Nicholas. Clark had started to notice, but he was preoccupied with a more significant task: survival.

He had not been paying attention when an infected griffon quickened through the line and engaged him. The group was crumbling as Jack was engaged in severing the heads of anything that came near Alyssa, who had to reload, but the immediate second her firing discontinued the infected overwhelmed her. She desperately struck and bludgeoned any infected charging into her with her hooves and gun.

The yellow mare held her pocket knife close to defend herself. Many infected pierced through behind them when Francis reloaded, for he was the only one holding the rear; furthermore, when Jack stopped concentrating on the front with Clark, more infected ponies had burst through there as well.

The bloodied griffon had Clark pinned to his back. He instinctively dropped his gun to block the razor-sharp claws attempting to puncture his body. The yellow mare squealed as she got yanked off the wagon, her body sinking into the sea of grey that had flooded over her.

Alyssa then fell, a unicorn had reared up and dropped upon her with a vicious jab to the cheekbone. She abruptly collapsed to the concrete, helpless to defend herself from the thrashing she then began suffering.

Jack had left her to protect himself. He was on his two back hooves and had his back bound against the side of the wagon as he used the shaft of his shovel to gag a changeling.

Francis had his back painfully clasped on the inner side of the cart with his P220 in hoof, but his hoof pinned under an infected pegasus. He and Jack were only a head away from each other; however, they were both concerned with their attackers to notice.

BLAM!

The griffon's brain exploded across the road and Clark's face. Its corpse slumped over and fell to Clark's right. He only saw a green wing before the pony soared off into the sky. They shot the unicorn who was pummeling Alyssa—in the neck—then the pony pinning Jack in the side of the head. The six infected ponies, who weren't satisfied with just the yellow mare, turned toward the green pegasus and charged full-sprint toward him. The green pegasus redirected his attention to protecting himself.

That left Francis on his own as Jack had begun chopping his way to the motionless Alyssa twelve feet away. The pegasus on top of Francis delivered a blow to his shoulder, then lifted up to deliver another, more effective strike to his head. An attack Francis would make sure never landed.

CHK

BANG!

The pegasus made the mistake of loosening its grip on Francis's right hoof, allowing him to close the slide of his P220 and deliver a fatal gunshot to the head.

The last few ponies, unfazed by their fallen colleague's corpses, raced toward the group. Jack made sure they preserved any ammunition they had left as his shovel twirled through the remaining stragglers.

But one had crept behind him.

BLAM!

The infected's face smeared against the ground as hit slid to a halt, merely inches away from Jack.

Nicholas brought the M1911 barrel against his muzzle and blew into the smoke. He smirked as he tossed the emptied weapon to the ground beside Clark.

The group recollected themselves. Jack was to carry Alyssa with his magic until she wakes up, Francis would trot with his gun clutched firmly in his wing at all times, Nicholas would fly above and ahead of the group to spot ahead. The only difference being the yellow mare wasn't there anymore and the gunfire off in the distance had stopped.

Nicholas scavenged the mare's pocket knife, stating that she wouldn't need it anymore. Alyssa told him to stab into the mare's skull, suggesting she would've wanted them to do it—he begrudgingly did so but complained about the blood getting on his suit thereafter.

As they trotted down the next block in District Two, buildings went from eye-captioning skyscrapers to smaller, more elaborate structures. Barbershops, restaurants, jewelry stores, and even some shops for tourists scattered about. Not even a fool would dare tour Fillydelphia now.

"There it is," Clark pointed out. An old, massive brick structure stood out on one side of a small park. Neatly-trimmed grass grown at the front of the building was evenly separated into four even squares, with sidewalks acting as the border in between. The building itself had a domed glass roof and an open entrance, allowing them to see the bloodbath and countless infected inside. Large pillars steadied a railway high above the streets below, making use of the spacious skies above.

"Let's get ourselves a train and get out of this place," Clark insisted.

"Y'all wanna hear a prediction?"

"No, Nicholas."

"There's not gonna be a train."

Clark led the group into the station. Two enormous chandeliers were hanging down, providing ample light for the brick station. Paired with the dozens of smaller square lights that were built in between any arcing doorways and the enormous glass dome above, you'd have more than three faint shadows at any given position.

A crystal water fountain stood out in the middle of the brick interior, with a polished wooden bench neatly placed on each side of the square. One of the benches had a mangled unicorn corpse ripped open and laying on top, revoking any sense of safety in the station. The polished marble floor had the same issue, blood patches, splatters, and trails scattered around.

Two enormous staircases led up to a second floor.

"That," Francis began, "is a large pack of vamponies."

"Not to mention the armored changelings," Jack mentioned.

"I'm personally more afraid of those claws," Nicholas stated, pointing a feather to a griffon.

"All we need to do is get to that train—it should be on the second floor," Clark reassured. The group lower themselves to the ground and warily stepped forward, not wanting too many ponies. Jack killed two ponies who spotted them before they could scream. They trotted around the water fountain and were on their way up the right giant staircase.

A changeling suddenly appeared from the top of the steps. It's lower jaw was ripped off, stopping it from screaming. Nicholas swept into action, stabbing into the belly of the changeling as it jumped up to punch his back. The dead changeling rolled quietly down the steps. Jack was the last to make it up the flight of stairs, he was panting hard before Clark quickly hushed him.

They had found their train, proving Nicholas wrong. Sadly, things were never made to be easy.

Blood stained every window on the twelve-cart train. Its sleek rectangular design had copious bullet holes puncturing the sides. A grey interior, with red seats hiding any blood spilled upon it. Many of the doors were left open, letting infected aimlessly trot in and out of the cart in search of their next kill.

Clark commanded, "We'll clear out the carts near the front of the train. Secure the remainder of those things in the back and leave them to rot."

"Sounds like a plan," Nicholas admitted.

Clark smirked at his approval, but his smirk became bitter as he drew his M1911 from his holster.

"This is the final trek, ponies!" he shouted, bulls-eyeing the two griffons ahead of them. Francis galloped forward, his wing shooting any pony emerging from the train. Jack focused on keeping Alyssa out of swiping range from any infected. Nicholas had borrowed Alyssa's gun and fired upon any ponies he saw getting too close to the group. Clark led the charge, resorting to long leaps on three legs as his right forehoof was used to aim at any dangerously close infected.

Nicholas rushed ahead, shooting the captain that emerged out of the opened train window. He flew inside to start the train. Clark placed himself at the front of the train, pushing Jack along with Alyssa inside. Nopony else could fit comfortably inside the driving section of the train, so Francis perched himself on the bottom of the steps below Clark and fired into the dozens of ponies barreling down the station.

Nicholas poked his head out the window, "Clark! When were you going to explain how to drive one of these things?" he shouted.

Clark looked up, he had forgotten about that. "Uhm," he paused to think. "Is there a gas pedal?"

"No!"

Clark shot a cop through the eye. He turned back up to Nicholas, "Well, look for something that usually means go! Look for labels!" he reasoned.

The infected had forced themselves closer. Francis was down to his last four bullets. The infected were thankfully scattered out, meaning the nearest four infected would be dealt with one at a time, but after that? It would be all down to Nicholas.

"Aha! This says 'throttle!'"

"Then pull it!" Clark yelled. Francis had missed his first shot, and the following one only slowed the charging changeling closest to them. His third shot hit home and the changeling dropped to the floor.

Its corpse quickly got trampled by the next infected.

"I pulled it!"

Nothing happened.

"Pull it harder!"

"It's as far as it can go!"

Francis waited for the infected pony to resume a steady sprint towards him. The pony was about to make the jump to the train.

BANG!

"I'm out!" Francis hollered. Clark aimed and shot the next pony to leap over the dead changeling.

"Start pressing shit then!" Clark screamed.

Francis practically leaped up the steps and dove behind Clark, who then began firing into the group of three ponies now at the base of the steps. One dropped. Two dropped. Then the third, another griffon, dived into Clark, nailing him against the ground and losing his pistol. Jack sprang from the train window. His horn glowed a deep red as a giant red wall prevented any more ponies from piling onto the train. He was just above to send his shovel to help Clark before an ear-piercing scream deafened the group.

"RRRGAAAAAAHHHHH!"

A griffon pounced onto him from the coal cart behind them, shattering his concentration into an unstallion-like scream. The griffon, pulling Jack along with it, fell onto the tracks under the train and the station floor.

"Jaaack!" Francis outcried. He hurriedly forced the griffon on top of Clark down the steps, his wing picking up the dropped gun in the process.

BLAM!

He couldn't see the griffon or Jack, but he did see the blood fly up and splatter against the side of the train.

Two more ponies jumped over the gap and onto the train.

"Press faster Nicholas!" Clark demanded.

BLAM!

"I'm trying!" replied Nicholas's muffled voice.

BLAMBLAMBLAM!

The infected collapsed dead onto the fourth step. Five more appeared from the rear of the train.

"Nicholas!" screamed Clark as he flung himself into the infected, a desperate attempt at keeping them down the steps. Francis aimed at the one biting Clark's neck.

click.

Francis discarded the pistol and assisted Clark to keep the infected down.

BLAM!

Nicholas rose from the side of the train.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

He paused to thoroughly aim at the pony still fighting with and biting Clark.

BLAM!

Nicholas tossed the pistol out the window as he re-submerged into the train.

Francis reared and snatched the gun mid-air. He aimed at the final pony, who had now tackled and bound Clark on his back against the hard, metal floor.

BLAM!

chhhhssssss.

The train began to move. "I did it!" Nicholas rejoiced.

Francis pulled Clark back to tend to his neck wound. Clark's droopy eyes slowly shut as Francis frantically worked to stop the bleeding. "Stay with me!" he blurted.

Thunderous howls erupted, deafening the sounds of the running engine on the train. Francis gazed past the side of the train. Two dozen vamponies were charging up the stairs—no, five dozen—six dozen!

At least a hundred vamponies storming toward the train. It would be overwhelmed in mere minutes. The bodies of the vamponies were packed together, acting as a tsunami that enveloped any unfortunate thing it passed.

"Go faster damn it!"

"It has to build up momentum!"

"We don't have time!"

Francis tossed the gun to Nicholas. He pulled Clark away from the steps and pushed his hooves against the bleeding wound. Nicholas steadied his left forehoof through the roof handle and leaned out the driver-side window. He picked out the earth pony, who was charging ahead of the tsunami towards the train.

He aimed.

click.

The earth pony jumped across the tracks and onto the steps below. Francis braced himself.

fwuu-shCK!

The pony fell limp over the front of the train. Nicholas had thrown his scavenged pocket knife expertly into the temple of the pony. Francis and Nicholas grinned, but the shrieks of the horde interrupted their happy moment with existential fear.

Two more earth ponies slung themselves into view from the rear of the train—one miscalculated the jump and fell onto the tracks below. Francis reared himself up and locked forehooves with the vampony. His wing ripped the pocket knife from the skull of the previous kill and dug it deep into the heart of the vampony. When the blade hilted, Francis dug his wing through the gaping hole to get the pocket knife completely through its heart and back.

It didn't disintegrate into ashes.

With a gurgly growl, the creature pulled itself closer toward Francis. Bones shattered and stabbed into Francis's ruffled feathers, sending him into unimaginable amounts of pain. Francis dropped, unintentionally pulling the thing down with him. It pounded him thoroughly, directing at whatever happened to be open or convenient for the thing. It landed on a punch to the neck, sending Francis's blood spurting out of his mouth and down his neck and stomach.

His vision blurred, he mustered the last of his strength to turn right, where the head of the train was facing. The sounds of whirring wind and images of blurred buildings invading his last senses. Suddenly, the beating stopped. The creature's blood intermixed with his own as is slumped over and off of him.

Nicholas stood there, horrified by his condition. He dragged Francis and sat him against the steps of the train, where they watched the tsunami behind them fall forty-feet down to the concrete below in a vain attempt to catch them. Francis used his remaining muscles to muster up a smile, which Nicholas gladly met with his own.

"We made it," Nicholas murmured.

Though, he couldn't say the same for everypony else. The cyan pony had perished when he rushed ahead of the group, the yellow mare was quickly overwhelmed and ripped to shreds by a sea of grey, Jack was taken out abruptly by a peculiarly sneaky griffon, and Clark, sadly, succumb to blood loss a minute ago as his mortified face and neck dried in the wind.

Alyssa—well, at least she survived.

Francis's vision gently withered away into black, with the last memory he observed being the edge of the city. They had escaped, at the cost of several others. The only way he could return the favor was to do as Clark said and warn the west. Can they outrun the virus in time to get there, is the new question.