Forget Me Not

I immediately look around to find the voice but instead see it's only myself left in the hall. Huh? What’s so shiny? I lightly shake my head as I step forward and try to open the door. The handle jiggles and the door slightly budges, but unsurprisingly doesn’t open. Shiny? Hmm… Oh, did it maybe mean the key Sunshine gave me? I guess it's a little shiny. I immediately fish it out of my bag and rather eagerly try it on the door. Much to my amazement, the lock turns and I’m successfully able to open the door. How impressive, a door that actually works as intended! After pushing the door open, I take back the key and look around the room.

Twelve long desks evenly line either side of the room against the walls, allowing a little space to walk up and down the middle. Neatly lined up behind every desk are chairs and lined up on each desk are more old fashioned computers. From where I stand, it seems as though the majority of the computers are damaged beyond repair, never to turn on and reveal their secrets ever again. At the front of the room is a smaller desk with a computer on it and various items- like folders, picture frames and school-themed decor- that make it obvious this is the teacher's desk. On the front wall currently off to my right is a long, green chalkboard. Various computer terminologies and assignments are scrawled onto the majority of the board in white chalk.

A black cord dangles from a thin, whitish-yellow bar in the ceiling about a foot from the board and I assume it to be the screen for the old school projector sitting in a small, black rolling cart in the middle of the front of the room. The room is a bit small and the chairs are just as tiny, just the right size for young foals to sit and learn how to use a computer. It seems this school was built for all ages, then. Frankly, this whole time I had assumed it to be a college or a private school of some kind for much older children or adults. As soon as I cross the threshold and enter the computer lab, my nose is hit with the smell of rotting meat. I gag a little as the odor assaults my sense of smell. It was honestly worse than the smell of heavy ammonia found in the colt's bathroom.

This school was filled with horrible smells and I'm honestly surprised I haven't gotten used to it yet. I pull the neck of my sweater over my nose to filter the smell as I look around some more. Unless I'm just overthinking things again, there has to be a reason this door has appeared for me. Maybe in some twisted, messed up way, the spirits in this school were leading me here for one reason or another. Whether that was to help or to harm, I couldn't say for sure yet. With the room being so small, it doesn't take me long to explore it in its entirety. Out of all the computers in the room, there are only seven intact and powered on. Six amongst the rows of desks and then the teacher's computer at the front. All of them are password protected, but further inspection of the teacher's desk reveals a hastily written note that the author didn't get to finish;

"Some mare I met told me the teacher’s computer is the key to escaping! Says it will tell you how to escape! Find the password and get it right! It’s in the room! They'll kill you if you get it wrong! I got it wrong too many times apparently and I hear t__________"

The note trails off in a inky smear down the torn page. I assume the author is the corpse of a half decomposed mare hunched over in the corner behind the teacher's desk. Much of her skeleton is exposed and what remains of her pale green, shriveled skin is hanging from her skeletal frame. What little bit of her mane there is left is thin but matted. I can see her rotting organs hiding behind- and just barely contained by- her fractured rib cage. Her cause of death isn’t immediately apparent, but by simply judging her current state, I’m sure she suffered greatly. The sight of her alone makes me want to puke, though. Combine that with how she smells, and I might actually do it. I push the neck of my sweater closer against my nose to further block out the nasty vapors.

I’m not entirely sure if I should trust the note or the promise this poor mare was given, but all in honesty, it’s the only lead I’ve got. I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to find the exact way out on this computer, but any hint- no matter how vague or cryptic- is better than just simply wandering around until I find something. It seems the password is somewhere in this room and if I had to bet, I’d put all my money on the only other working computers. I press the spacebar on the keyboard and awake the computer, where it brings up the login screen. The username reads ‘It’s my birthday!’. Below the password box is a hyperlink that simply says ‘Password hint’ and clicking on it reveals nothing of actual help or value. Instead, the hint tells me ‘Tough luck, fucktard. Figure it out yourself’ and I can’t help but to roll my eyes.

It’s not like I thought for one second that I might find something of actual help or even value, but it would be nice to catch a break for once. I did just believe I was about to be slowly squished to death. The least these spirits could do is cut me a teeny, tiny little bit of slack. Well, no sense in dawdling when there’s a password to find. Considering the state of the corpse, I suppose I’ll trust the validity of this note and look around the room again for the password. I’m sure it’ll have something to do with the usernames. It really seems like whatever made the school the way it is tried its best to make escape difficult, but hiding the password amongst the usernames isn’t exactly a difficult puzzle to solve. Tedious, sure, to get the full picture and even more so to figure out the correct order, but hard? Not so likely. Then again, I could be terribly and horrifically wrong.

I shouldn’t be thinking like that, though. I don’t mean to get all weird, sappy and cliche, but I need to cling onto the hope I have of escaping this hellhole. On the bright side, at least I can say I went down fighting until the bitter end. Er, well, sort of. I make my way over to the first long desk on my current right and find the working computer sitting all the way down at the end. I press the spacebar and take a look at the displayed username: ‘A three-tiered strawberry cake!’. I make a mental note and exit the row before moving down the aisle to the next working computer. It sits on the second desk to my current left just slightly past the middle. I repeat the process of waking the computer and reading the username: ‘A flower for each season- and’. Another mental note metaphorically jotted down before I move onto computer number three- or four, if you count the teacher’s computer.

The next computer is straight across and sitting on the very end. Repeating the same song and dance, I learn the next piece of this ridiculous puzzle: ‘But only two amaryllises’. I’ve come to the conclusion that the usernames are telling a story and I’m going to go ahead and assume that I’ve got to piece the story together in the correct sequence in order to figure out the password. I suppose in a way it’s clever, but it also seems a bit… cliche, like something you’d find a modern day video game. I turn around and skip the third row of desks entirely, as either side has no working computers. The next computer is on the right long desk and sitting directly in the middle. I wake the ancient box of zeroes, ones and pixels and memorize its username: ‘Tulips, Four pansies’.

My next target is the computer on the fifth elongated desk on my current left, which sits second to the last in the row. I press the spacebar harder than intended and with enough force to scoot the entire keyboard slightly closer to the monitor. Oops. Without giving it much thought, I slide the keyboard back towards its original place as I read the username: ‘Seven Forget-Me-Nots, Nine’. The last computer sits just before the middle on the very last elongated desk on the same side of the room as the one I was just at. The very last piece of the puzzle reads: ‘My mom bought a bouquet made of’. I think for a moment and piece all the usernames together. The fictional bouquet is made up of flowers from each of the four seasons, so the usernames with flowers must go in seasonal order. I’m not an expert on flowers- at least, I don’t remember if I am- but I think I know what the order may be.

I’m fairly certain forget-me-nots are springtime flowers and I know amaryllises are usually seen in the winter time, typically for Hearth’s Warming Eve. A very brief memory comes to my mind of myself in an office of some kind and receiving a vase full of the red bulb flowers presumably from a coworker. A somewhat helpful memory, I suppose. I guess I either once worked in an office of some variety or currently do. Anyways, back to this damn password. I feel like I’m wrong, but I’m going to put pansies in the fall slot and leave the tulips for the summer. With the flowers in- hopefully- the correct order, I’m almost entirely positive that the brief story holding the true hint for the password goes as follows;

“It’s my birthday! My mom bought a bouquet made of seven forget-me-nots, nine tulips, four pansies but only two amaryllises. A flower for each season- and a three-tiered strawberry cake!”

I return to the teacher’s computer and adjust the keyboard so I can lean against the end of the desk and put some distance between me and the corpse. No offense to the dead mare, of course. I probably already smell, but there’s no need to get even smellier. Alright, focus. Getting the password wrong too many times will apparently seal my demise, as evident by the corpse and the note it left behind. How many tries do I have before I strike out? I’m going to assume it’s the usual ‘three misses and you’re out’ kind of scenario that is standard practice for chances given across the country. Here goes attempt number one. I type ‘794243’ into the box, hoping the number of each flower, the number of seasons and the number of cake tiers together make the right combination.

Much to my dismay, I’m instead met with an error message that says: ‘wrong password, try again’. A horrible screeching fills the rooms, like nails on a chalkboard. I instinctively cover my ears as I look for the source of the offending noise. On the board nearby, a piece of chalk held by some unseen force slowly draws a big ‘x’ before shattering into pieces. Ugh, is it going to do that every time I get it wrong? Let’s try this again. I believe I had it mostly correct, but I think I need to read into the story a little harder. ‘A flower for each season’. Maybe the number of flowers, seasons and how many types of flowers are given plus the number of tiers for the cake?

I try ‘7942443’ and the room is again filled with more awful screeching as another piece of chalk draws a big ‘x’ before also shattering. Dammit. I was confident that was the correct password. What am I missing? Were the bits about the birthday and the mother buying a bouquet actually a part of the password? The username for the teacher’s computer and the very last computer imply there is one recipient of the cake and bouquet and one mother. I won’t lie, I’m seriously feeling the pressure to get it right this time. My heart is pounding a bit faster and I notice I’m starting to sweat a little as well. I hold my breath as I type ‘117942443’ into the password box and then close my eyes as I hit the enter button. I brace myself for the sound of chalk scratching horribly across the board, but much to my relief, I instead hear the computer sing a brief tune. I peek an eye open and see I've successfully logged into the computer. How unnecessarily dreadful that was.

I reach out and turn the monitor a bit to see the screen better. I check the computer for anything of use or value. There are no files saved except for the ones belonging to the then-standard, bare bones basics applications like the art tool program and the notepad. Out of curiosity, I open the art program first and look through the saved art files. I genuinely don't know what I expected to see and I guess I really shouldn't be shocked, all things considered, but every piece 'art'- if I could even call it that- depicted various gorey scenes. Decapitations, burning to ashes, cut into chunks, chopped up into bits and intestines removed then strung out like banners. All of them crudely drawn in a classroom setting, almost like a child drew them. I'm not sure if they're purely fictional victims or if they're really the records of the demise of a few misplaced, innocent souls. Pretty brutal no matter which way you slice it.

I exit the art program and try opening the internet for shits and giggles. As expected, it's unable to connect and an error message tells me to check my connection. There is nothing else of value or interest aside from the virtual notepad I have yet to open. There are several, several files saved. Most are jumbled nonsense or the ravings of ponies gone mad, others are different ponies essentially saying the same thing and half of those in drastically different time frames according to the time stamps on the files. The latter entries recount their tales of arriving here with no memory on how aside from the vague remembrance of an elevator. Although I'm unsure of the current month, day or year, some of these entries are clearly old. I want to say maybe ten or so years, possibly more.

The last four entries seem very recent, maybe a couple weeks. My gut says maybe a month at most. The author of the first of the last four mourns the loss of their lover and how desperate they are for something to drink, as they believed they were dying of dehydration, possibly even starvation. Unfortunately, the thirst was stronger than the hunger according to the writer, so if they truly were starving to death, they were certain the thirst would do them in first. The second entry is of a similar nature, but instead they were filled with regret for winning a game of rock, paper, scissors they played with their lover which resulted in the loser lovebird giving up their life so the winner would not starve to death or die of thirst. Although they regretted winning, they wrote they were grateful for the sacrifice and wouldn't let it go in vain before going into a disturbing amount of detail of just how delicious their lover was.

The third entry was the final moments of an injured griffin who fell victim to one of the school's ‘many traps’ and was bleeding out badly. Their final wish was for their lover to find the way out and escape, as well as for the lover to always remember them and never let that memory fade, as that would keep them alive in spirit. The entry doesn't go into detail about how the injury occured, but simply wrote that they were sliced to ribbons by some kind of wire. I can only imagine how it happened and how painful it had been to slowly bleed out until they faded from existence. The final entry is the most recent and the one that peaks my curiosity the most. It's one of the longer entries in the notepad and its contents stick out like a sore thumb.

It goes into a very small amount of detail about ‘data collection’ on something they refer as the 'dimensional space' belonging to something they call 'Principal DESTiny', or simply ‘Dest’ for short. According to this, ‘Dest’ is some sort of dangerous monster that is responsible for the creation of this school. The note is a bit vague but seems to imply this school isn't even a real school after all and is simply instead an isolated plain of existence in a void of nothing shaped to whatever this Dest desires. It mentions something about ‘anchoring the space’ and essentially tethering it to Equestria's dimension for easier access for ‘research purposes’. That's as far as it goes in terms of information about the school, although it’s honestly far more than what I expected to read- even if the details weren't an in-depth explanation. I must confess, I don't entirely understand what any of it means, but the better I can understand this place, the higher my chances of survival will be- or so I hope, anyways.

The rest of this last entry goes on to say that they've come here of their own volition and are fully aware of the potentially deadly consequences, which the author says they are prepared for. They also intend on leaving field notes in 'valued' areas of the dimensional space for their coworkers to find should things go 'horribly awry' and they've met their demise. That way, apparently, the author won't be considered as having gone 'AWOL'. The reason they gave was a bit bold, honestly impressive and- oddly enough- sweet. They've plunged themselves into this hell willingly in hopes of gaining a promotion in order to get closer to and spend more time with a supervisor they greatly admire. Like everything else written, this too is vague, but I feel it’s slightly implied that the author might have more romantic feelings for their supervisor than mere platonic admiration.

Unlike the vast majority of the entries left behind on this ancient computer, the author of this last note didn’t record their name. Instead, the entry is simply signed with ‘SBB, PhD’ at the very bottom. I believe they signed it that way with the assumption their colleagues would recognize the initials, should said colleagues ever come looking for them. While I suppose I did get some answers from all of this, the number of questions I’ve gained far outweigh them. If they've come here willingly, then that means they've got something to do with ‘anchoring’ this dimension to Equestria's, right? What kind of work are they doing exactly? Why would any business or organization be interested in researching such a horrible place? Better yet, why research such a terrible monster if this is what it’s capable of?

PhD. Why would a doctor need to conduct any sort of research here? Perhaps a more accurate question would be what kind of doctor conducts research in a fucked up place like this? It goes without saying that escaping this place isn’t going to be easy or straightforward. Although I loathe the idea of wasting my time by sniffing around chasing ghosts- in both the literal and metaphorical sense- it seems hunting down these field notes might be worth the trouble. Assuming this doctor is still alive, I might possibly attempt to track them down as well. Mostly a fool’s errand in the long run, I’m sure, but unless I can say with a hundred percent certainty that they’re dead, I might as well hold onto a little bit of hope that I’ll find them.

Well, I should get going now. There’s no way in hell I’m getting into these other computers and I’ve seen all there is to find on the teacher’s computer, so there’s no need to stick around here any longer. I feel like the protagonist in some sort of survival-horror adventure book on a deadly quest. Before I move on, I should probably go over my priorities and rework their order of importance. I glance over at the corpse sitting in the corner. Here’s a priority high on my list: reprioritize in a different location. I grunt a bit as I push up and off the desk before quickly trotting out into the hallway. I move the neck of my sweater down and off my nose before sitting outside by the doorway.

I’m not a big fan of just sitting around all vulnerable-like, but getting my priorities figured out and straightened will help keep my mind leveled and focused. Hopefully. It should go without saying, but my first priority is- obviously- escaping from this school. Whether that happens via this elevator that keeps popping up, a secret set of stairs, some sort of magical portal or some other ridiculous method of escape, I’ll do whatever it takes to get out. I will do anything to ensure my survival and escape. Anything. Even if it means losing an eye, a limb or going bald. I really don’t care. I can live without one of those, my hair or whatever it is I may or may not lose. I just want to go home… wherever that may be.

Escape isn’t going to be easy nor will it be immediate, so while I make my attempts to leave, my second priority is going to be finding the ghostly mare that brought me to the infirmary. She might know what happened to me and how I wound up in this position. Even if she doesn’t and just simply found me, the mare might hopefully know where I was found. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I learn the location. Should I avoid it like the plague or risk my life a second time by poking around for clues? I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Sunshine said she seemed protective over me. Another good reason to find her. Perhaps I can get a free bodyguard that way or better yet, perhaps there’s a chance she might know me. Unless it’s just a case of mistaken identity and I just look like somepony she once knew while alive, I can’t think of any other reason for her being protective over me other than she really does know me. Maybe we came here together or perhaps we used to be friends. I suppose I’ll find out when I find her. It will happen. I want- no, need- to know who I am. She might be the only clue I have to figure it out. I refuse to live the rest of my life always wondering who I am or used to be, what my life was like. If I have friends, family, a job, a lover, a spouse, any children or none of the above. Who they may be, where they are or how to find them assuming I do.

I sigh as I gently tap my forehead as a reminder to stay focused. I hate wasting time yet here I am doing just that. Back to the subject at hoof, my third priority is finding the mare that appeared in that brief flashback I had earlier. I might not have remembered her face, voice or cutiemark clearly, but it would be hard to miss her with her watermelon coat and ruddy mane. It’s obvious she means a great deal to me. After all, I did refer to her as ‘my treasure’ in that memory I recalled… and the way we held each other as we hid? I feel inclined to believe she’s likely my marefriend or perhaps some form of ‘friends with benefits’, though I lean more towards the former.

Finding her will likely be much harder than finding the mare who saved me. As a ghost, that mare would likely be able to freely traverse the school to some extent. For living ponies like me and the mare in my flashback, it seems we can’t go ten minutes without being disturbed, assaulted or threatened in some way, which makes exploring difficult. It honestly feels… weird to call her my marefriend, but it's very important that I find her. If not for the sake of her being able to help me regain my memories, then definitely because I… I… I think I love her. Thinking that honestly feels even weirder than calling her my marefriend and I honestly have no clue why.

Those three things are what I need to focus the most on, but while I’m trying to accomplish them, I’m going to keep a keen eye out for any notes left behind by that ‘Dr. SBB’. Hopefully they’ll contain useful and relevant information. Until I can prove with a hundred percent certainty that the doctor is dead, I’ll keep an eye out for them as well. If their notes prove to be absolute useless garbage, then what better way to get the info I need than straight from the source? I won’t let my hopes get too high on that part, but for now I won’t give up entirely. Alright, that’s too much time wasted. I need to keep going. I need to get out of here.

THUMP! A muffled groan of pain escapes my throat as I just lay there and process what’s just happened to me. I slowly lift my head up and then rest my chin on the cold tile floor. I blow stray strands of hair out of my face before slowly pushing myself up with my front legs and stand with both back legs off the floor. A large pile of junk and debris created a barricade in the middle of the hall, making getting to the other side difficult and possibly dangerous, but not entirely impossible. A barricade I thought I could climb over and jump down from with ease, but apparently I’m not as nimble or perfectly balanced as I had assumed myself to be. My brief journey up trash mountain had been slightly wobbly but otherwise successful without incident. The journey down, however, did not go quite so smoothly.

As if I didn’t have enough bruises to begin with, I lost footing about halfway down when attempting my jump and instead went tumbling to the floor. I landed right on my face and I’m surprised my nose isn’t bleeding. Perhaps on a more humorous side, my right pant leg has gotten snagged on a piece of broken wood that is temporarily keeping me hostage. If it didn’t hurt as bad as it did, I would probably laugh at my current situation. I back up as far as I can before carefully reaching and freeing my pants from the wood. With my leg free, I stumble forward and fall over again with a loud groan.

A sharp pain assaults my right side and disappears as I stand up. As I rub my side to nurse the pain away, my hoof rubs over something pointy but not terribly sharp. I look down and momentarily panic. By all accounts, it really does look like I’ve been stabbed by a shard of glass. The panic quickly fades when I realize there’s no blood and I have- in fact- not been stabbed nor is the object a piece of glass but instead is a piece of plastic. Upon further inspection, a hole has been torn in a pocket I didn’t know I had and its contents are trying to escape. I sit down and empty its contents onto the floor. I pull out a half empty pack of ‘Mareburrow’ cigarettes, a book of matches with only twenty left inside and a black-and-gold ballpoint pen that’s slightly bent in the middle

I stare at the piece of plastic still poking out the hole and try to picture what it could be. I reach into my pocket and slowly wiggle it out of the hole before pulling it out. It’s a wallet-sized picture inside a plastic frame attached to a blue carabiner by a small ball chain. An oddly familiar logo is printed atop a gray background. It depicts a green flame beneath the letters ‘P’ and ‘T’ printed in a dark teal, thick capitalized font. Overlapping the flame is a semi-transparent black circle that has two symmetrical curves in the inside, both of which are also black and just barely hug the ‘PT’. I can’t remember for the life of me where or when I’ve seen this logo, but once all my memories have returned I have no doubt that I’ll solve that mystery.

I flip it over and gently caress the plastic case. The other side is a picture of myself wearing the same outfit as I am now but with what looks like an ID badge on a lanyard clipped to my sweater. Unfortunately, it’s turned around backwards and shows nothing but a blank, white rectangle. In the photo I’m smirking and have my right leg wrapped around the shoulders of the mare from my flashback. I can now see her face and her spearmint colored eyes. Either cheek is adorned with heart shaped freckles that are a lighter, paler shade of yellow than my own skin. I’m holding her close in the photo with my head pressed against her own. I look rather smug in this photograph while she appears shy but happy.

Judging from the background, we appear to be in an office of some sort. The mare looks less like an office worker and more of a visitor, so I’m going to assume it’s likely the office is mine. There’s a picture frame on the desk in the background, but it’s too out of focus for me to see its contents. I wish the photo would trigger another flashback, but I guess it’s just my luck that a second one wouldn’t happen, at least not so soon. Too bad I don’t have a watch on me so I can keep track of time, but I’d say it’s probably been a solid five-to-ten minutes or so since I left the computer lab. Then again, I have the feeling that even if I did have a watch, it probably wouldn’t work in this hellhole anyways. We obviously can’t have nice things here. I guess that ‘Principal Dest’ is to blame.

I shove the picture and pen back into my pocket. I didn’t think I was a smoker, but they’ve been in my pocket and I might as well smoke a couple while I’m still able to. I take a single cigarette out of the box, put it between my lips and light it with one of the matches. I shake the match until the flame dissipates and then toss it to the side. I take a nice, long drag from the cigarette, hold it in for a bit and then slowly exhale it. I shove the match book and cigarettes back into my pocket before walking through the cloud of smoke and continuing on down the hall. My nerves already feel soothed and happier. Hopefully I can make the pack last until I get out of here because I already know this damn school will have them shot to hell and back three-fold by the time escape happens.

As I approach the junction where the hall splits off to the right and continues forward, I hear what almost sounds like somepony screaming. I pause and listen more closely. A few seconds go by before I hear it again. It really sounds like somepony is calling out for help, but I’m not sure if it’s an actual pony or just a tactic by this cursed place to get me to come closer so it can murder me. Another pause and a couple seconds later, it sounds like it might be a child. Whoever it is is clearly in some sort of trouble. I’m not equipped with a weapon or really in any shape to be playing hero. Would it be worth it to risk my neck and check it out? Or would I be better off not getting involved and continue on with my quest?

Eh, fuck it. It’s a risk I guess I’m willing to take. Who knows, maybe I’ll gain a new companion. I exhale another cloud of smoke before continuing forwards. I reach the juncture where the hall splits and round the corner. There’s a door to my right with a plaque that reads ‘Library’ in regular text as well as in smaller braille writing underneath. Just a couple inches from the handle and from the very top of the door is a rectangular window with wired glass. This hall comes to an end about ten feet from the library door where a section of the floor is missing and drops off into pitch black darkness. Even the hall beyond the missing part of the floor is enveloped in the same darkness. At the very end of the hall is what looks like a lonely, long abandoned janitor’s cart.

I cautiously approach the door’s window and peer inside. From what I can see, the library is pretty big. Very tall bookshelves that almost reach the ceiling line the walls while rows of much shorter bookshelves are placed around the room, most of which are toppled over. I can see a few wooden tables with books stacked on top and numerous chairs tossed around and in places they shouldn’t be. As expected, the room is in a total state of disarray. There’s even the partially decomposed corpse of a headless pegasus slumped over at one of the tables. A book is stood up and placed in front of them as if they were reading it in a cruel sense of irony.

“Fuck!” I hear a voice exclaim filled to the brim with sheer, unadulterated fear.

The exclamation is immediately followed by numerous audible thumps and a few unworldly groans. I press my head against the door to get a better view of the room and glance over towards the corner. I do so right in time to witness as a young pegasus filly just barely successfully flutters over to a neighboring bookshelf in time before the one she had been on slowly topples over with a very loud thump. She appears to be somewhere in the preteen, possibly early teenage years and looks absolutely terrified. What’s a child even doing in a place like this? Better yet, who would send a child to this place?

She grabs a book from the top most shelf and throws it down as hard as she can. My gaze follows the book and I watch it hit a reanimated corpse in the head, which momentarily stuns it. A total of seven corpses in various stages of decomposition are throwing themselves into the bookshelf in an attempt to- I assume- knock down the poor filly and do unspeakably horrible things to her. A couple are missing their heads, three of them have their rotting guts hanging out and dragging on the ground and one of them has it’s head twisted nearly completely backwards which is barely hanging on by a thread. Of course I would come across literal zombies in a place like this.

On one hoof, I know I should probably do something to save her, but on the other, I can’t help but feel maybe I should slowly back away and carry on like I never saw this. How exactly am I supposed to accomplish saving that poor filly? I’ve just barely kept myself alive this far and I’m really in no shape to be brawling mindless corpses. I don’t even have a weapon to use! What am I to do? Just walk in and scold them for harassing a child, then expect them to be apologetic and leave politely? I know if I walk in there unarmed they’ll just chew me to pieces! As horrible as it sounds, I’m not so sure I’m willing to sacrifice myself just so this poor child can escape. Sure, she’d be safe then, but what about later? I’m just not sure what to do.

It probably sounds awful and maybe even selfish, but I’ll do what I can to save her as long as I’m not in a great risk of dying and I’m only doing it because- although she may be a child- she might have some very valuable information that may help me- er, us- get out of here. I quietly try to open the door to avoid grabbing the zombies’ attention, but quickly find the door is locked. Big shocker there. I open my saddlebag and fish around for the key I used on the computer lab door only to find that it’s missing. Weird. I could’ve sworn I put it back in my bag. Oh well, I’m not climbing back over that barricade just to go find it.

I look through the window again and down at the door. I can see the lock, but the wired glass is preventing me from reaching it. I need something to break the glass with so I can unlock the door. I could go look for something useful back at trash mountain, but I feel like trying to pull anything out of the pile would result in something akin to a game of Penga gone horribly- and lethally- wrong. Wandering too far is likely a bad idea, so it seems my only viable option is to check the janitor’s cart sitting at the dead end.

I quickly trot over to the abandoned cart and glance down at the darkness below. An icy fear bites at my legs as I stand by the cart. I have a horrible feeling that standing here for too long is a bad idea. I look over the cart and fortunately find a very rusty hammer. I take it and temporarily place it in my bag. I look over the cart again for anything else that might help in getting rid of this minor zombie infestation. I find a couple bottles of drain cleaner sitting on the bottom shelf of the cart. That’s flammable, right? Maybe she could douse them in the cleaner and I could toss a lit match at them, then together we could watch them burn to ash?

It’s a long stretch, something only accomplishable in fictional movies or games, but it might just work. I don’t know how well, though, and it likely won’t go entirely as planned. I grab onto one of the bottles and pick it up- or at least I would’ve, but I can’t seem to actually pick it up. I try the other bottle and am met with the same thing. It’s like they’re glued down or something. I try other objects on this side of the cart and find I can’t move any of them either. So much for that idea, I guess. I go around to the other side of the cart and look around for something useful but- more importantly- moveable to accomplish my goal.

The only thing I find on this side that’s at the very least moveable are two mason jars with rats in them. One rat is very much dead and has its guts all over the bottom of the jar while the other is alive but seemingly just barely. I pick up the jar with the live rat inside and find a note attached to the other side by a piece of tape. This place really loves leaving behind objects or notes with vague, barely helpful information that hint at a solution to some overly complicated issue, doesn’t it? I don’t really have the time to be reading obscure notes right now, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. I take off the note and put the frightened, imprisoned rat down in order to quickly read it;

‘If you found this note, hopefully you’re in a better situation and position then I am. See that gaping hole nearby? I watched my friend get attacked by a frickin’ zombie (a zombie!) and before I could do anything to save her, some kind of… I don’t even know what it was, but it came out of that hole and ate both of them and then disappeared into the depths below. As I stood there in shock and was trying to process what I had just witnessed, my friend was coughed back up by that thing! She was alive, but her wounds were so severe, she died a few minutes later.

This place is horrible and deadly and dangerous and I’m going to do what I can to help others survive until they’re able to escape. I caught these rats to test out a theory I have, but I know I’ll need more rats to be completely sure I’m right. If you’re reading this, I’m clearly dead and never came back from my rat hunt. You’ll just have to trust that I’m right and toss these rats into the hole below. If the dead rat comes back up, that means I was wrong. If both rats stay down, that means I was also wrong. However, if the dead rat stays down and the living rat comes back up still alive, then that means I was right. That thing down in the hole seems to only eat what’s already dead, so I’ve taken to calling it ‘Garbage Disposal’.

Best of luck, Onyx Steel.’

I’ve been silently rooting for my ‘burn it with fire’ method to win, even if the bottles of drain cleaner weren’t moving, but I guess throwing corpses into this ‘Garbage Disposal’ will have to do. That’s assuming this Onyx Steel’s theory is correct and I guess there’s only one way to find that out. Not a big fan of standing dangerously close to gaping chasms that have things that eat bodies inside of it, but I guess I’ll take some solace in the fact that I’m not yet a corpse. I put the note on the cart and grab the jar with the dead rat inside before opening the lid. Even though I’m holding my breath, the rotten smell of this rat makes me dry heave.

I don’t want to be holding this any long that I have to, so I quickly go over the hole and sling the open jar towards it and watch the rat as well as its innards fly out towards and then down into the darkness below. The floor rumbles a bit and I hear the unmistakable sound of jaws clamping against one another and something wriggling around. Slowly the rumbling fades into nothing, I drop the jar and then quickly back away from the hole. I go back to the cart and grab the jar with the living rat inside. I apologize to the poor thing for what I’m about to do before going back to the hole, opening the lid and slinging the rat into the hole. It squeaks in terror as it soars down in the hazardous depths below.

The floor rumbles again as I hear something wriggle around and jaws clamping down once more. The rumbling and wriggling gets more intense until whatever is in the hole gets close enough to spit the rat back out and onto the floor. I’m unable to get a glimpse of the creature, but I guess I should be thankful for that. The poor rat has been sliced to ribbons, but is still alive for the time being. I watch the little rat limp back over to the cart and hide underneath it. I guess that means Onyx’s theory was correct and now I can use that to my advantage. I feel a bit proud until I realize that means I’m likely going to have to play bait in order to get those shambling corpses over this way.

I shouldn’t rush in without a plan, so here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll break the glass, unlock and then open the library door. After that, I’ll get the attention of the zombies- if I don't already have it- and lure them towards Garbage Disposal. I’ll need to be quick once they’re close enough so I don’t accidentally become a victim. Maybe if I get on top of the janitor’s cart, I can jump over them and get a safe enough distance from the hole. After all, the cart seems to be permanently welded to the spot, so taking another spill like I did earlier isn’t likely to happen- or so I hope, anyways. Okay, I guess that’s that, then. Time to go play hero even though I kind of don’t really want to, but hopefully the risk will be worth it.

I go back to the library door and take out the hammer. I make short work of the window and it takes me less than a minute to make enough room for my foreleg to fit through it. I quickly shove the hammer into my bag, turn the lock, pull my leg out and open the door police-raid style. I enter the room and stand there. Just as I thought, the process of opening the door had caught the attention of some of the zombies. Three of them shuffle and stumble in my direction while the other four remain fixated on the poor filly still trapped atop the bookshelf. I spit my cigarette out on the floor and whistle as loudly as I can. My whistle captures the attention of the other four, who turn around and join their buddies in shuffling towards me.

The filly and I briefly make eye contact with another and I simply give her a nod of acknowledgment… or was it reassurement? Either way, I focus on the corpses stumbling towards me and partially back out of the room. One of them charges towards me and closes the gap between us about part of the way before slowing back down to its previous semi-slow pace. I kind of regret spitting out my cigarette as I back out of the room entirely and re-enter the hall. The mindless corpses stupidly fall into my trap as I lure them bit by bit towards Garbage Disposal’s hole. I quickly canter over to the janitor’s cart and stand behind it to wait for the zombies to come even closer towards the hole.

Once they’re standing right where I want them, the floor begins to rumble more aggressively than before. I quickly climb onto the cart with my back turned to the hole. I feel a rush of air and hear as whatever’s taken residency inside the hole comes out to feast. I practically throw myself as far as I can over corpses circling the cart and reaching out for me. I poorly execute a tuck and roll before quickly scrambling to my hooves and watch as Garbage Disposal makes short work of the zombies. I can only describe it as some sort of large, horned worm-creature that looks to be made of an awful, mismash-y ‘quilt’ of pustulous corpses with a flowery mouth filled with razor sharp teeth of varying sizes. It has a long, barbed tongue that helps it ensnare the corpses it doesn’t snatch up with terrifying maw.

Once all of the corpses have been consumed by Garbage Disposal, it quickly retreats back into its dark dungeon of a home. I stare at where it once was and can’t help but feel shocked that my plan actually worked and I wasn’t harmed at all in the process. Even though I had already acknowledged earlier how dangerous of a plan it likely was, I can’t help but internally freak out that my plan could’ve gone so wrong and I could’ve died. I guess seeing what Garbage Disposal really was and how it consumed those zombies really just… hit home just how awful things could’ve been if I had messed up in the slightest.

“What the hell was that?” A shaky voice asks from behind me.

I turn around and look at the source of the voice. The little pegasus stands before me trembling in fear, her ears flattened against her mane and tears streaming down her cheeks. Now that any danger is gone for the time being, I take a good look at the pegasus. Her eyes are bright yellow and remind me of the stars that dot the night sky. Her coat is an eggplant-y purple color and her mane is styled into a short, multi-colored and very curly bob. Her mane is mostly black with swirly stripes of pink, teal and bright blue. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say that the little pegasus appears to be the embodiment of the galaxy.

“Be more specific,” I reply.

“That… monster,” The filly clarifies.

“Just the Garbage Disposal,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, as if I didn’t just risk my life.

We stare at each other for a moment or two before the filly pipes up again.

“Um… Thanks,” She says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” I say with a reassuring smile “how’d you end up in that situation?”

“I, uh, uh… I thought it would be a good place to look,” She replies just as quiet “for a way out, I mean. B-But then those zombies came out of nowhere and the door locked itself and refused to open.”

“So then you took refuge atop the bookshelves until I came to your rescue?” I question.

“Y-yeah. I thought more zombies were showing up when you bursted into the room, but I-I’m glad it was just you,” The filly says with a grateful smile.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Huh? Oh, I’m twelve,” She replies “and you?”

“Good question. I don’t remember. How old do I look to you?” I say with a shrug.

“Uh, I don’t know, like, thirty I guess?” The filly says with a confused look on her face.

“I’d say it’s a long story, but I’m suffering from amnesia so I don’t even know what the story is,” I say with another shrug “what’s your name, kiddo?”

“Oh, it’s, uh, Nimble Star. What’s yours?” The filly says.

“Just call me Dahlia for now. I’m not sure what my real name is, but I’ve been told I look like a ‘really pretty dahlia’ flower,” I say nonchalantly.

“Uh, okay, then,” Nimble says quietly.

“So what’s a little filly like you doing in a place like this?” I ask, hoping to hear more about the elevator.

“What? I-I-I’m not a filly! I’m a colt!” Nimble says in a very offended tone.

“Could’ve fooled me. I don’t make it a habit to look at ponies’ genitals to tell what they are, especially if they’re a child, so forgive my ignorance,” I say sarcastically.

“Hey! It’s not my fault!” Nimble huffs and stomps his hoof.

“What, that you look and sound like a filly? I didn’t say it was, did I?” I scoff and roll my eyes a little.

“No, but… Whatever, just forget it,” Nimble huffs again as he sits and crosses his legs across his chest.

“Already have. You didn’t answer my question, though,” I simply say with a slightly sour look.

“What question? Oh, how I got here? We were forced onto an elevator by some really nasty ponies but I’m not sure what happened after it started going down,” Nimble explains with a small shrug “I… I think they might’ve gassed us. We woke up inside the school with no elevator to be found.”

“We?” I question.

“Yeah, ‘we’ as in me, my mom and a whole bunch of other ponies,” Nimble answers “there was… I think fifteen of us altogether?”

“Who were these nasty ponies?” I ask.

“Guards who do the dirty work of handling the prisoners on behalf of the scientists,” Nimble says in a tone of disgust “they treated us like we were worthless scum.”

“How awful,” I say, trying to sound sympathetic “can you tell me more?”

“Sorry, but I don’t think I can give any useful answers. They were very strict about keeping us in the dark about who they were, what their work was and why we were there,” Nimble says with a sigh “I just know they keep prisoners to use as lab rats for whatever experiments they do. I guess that’s why we’re here.”

“I guess so too. What was it like as a prisoner?” I ask.

“Frickin’ awful, Dahlia. Mom and I were prisoners at one place and then we got moved to another, but of course they knocked us out so we wouldn’t know where,” Nimble replies “I just know they were different because our living quarters changed. It was still just as shitty, though.”

“What was that like?” I question “your living quarters, I mean.”

“Take a really cheap, crappy hotel and combine it with prison, then you’ll have our living quarters. Super small rooms with a single bed barely big enough for two and a doorless bathroom with just a toilet,” Nimble answers with a look of disgust “and the door to our rooms were like jail doors. They’d send us food through these really small vent things and all the meals were pure mush. I don’t know what they were made of.”

“Oh, and there were cameras everywhere! Hallway, bedroom… even the bathroom!” Nimble quickly added.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry you lived like that,” I say sympathetically “what happened to your mother.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready to accept it,” Nimble says quickly and a bit angrily.

I’m guessing something awful happened to his mother. Judging by his response, I think it might be safe to assume that she’s no longer alive.

“That’s fair enough. I’ll help you get out of here, but only if you promise me something,” I say as I pat his shoulder.

“And what would that be?” He questions.

“You help me find somepony important to me,” I say with a smile “this mare right here.”

I pull out the picture of me and the mare from my flashback and show it to Nimble Star.

“Uh, okay. I’ll help you find her if you’ll promise to keep me safe,” Nimble says with a small nod.

“I’ll do my utmost best to do so,” I say as I hold out my hoof.

Nimble looks at my hoof before reaching out with his own. We shake on our promises before moving on down the hall. We walk quietly together as we pass by a large window.

“You know those aren’t even real, right?” Nimble asks out of the blue.

“Hmm? What’s not real?” I counter.

“The scenery outside the windows. They’re fake,” Nimble answers.

“How so?” I ask.

“I broke one with a chair to try and escape, but they’re just illusions. Painted scenery and fake plants in a box to make it look like the outside is real,” Nimble explains “and there’s lights, speakers and sprinklers in them, too, to make it look like it's storming!”

I think back to the mutilated stallion and broken raven from earlier when I was trapped in the looping halls. If what Nimble is saying is true, then how could that incident have occurred? Was that whole situation just an illusion too? I just… don’t understand, but I wish I did. At least now I know my reasoning for giving up on trying to open the window was valid.

“I see. Thanks for the heads up,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” Nimble says with a smile.

Silence returns as we make our way down the hall and hang a right. The lights flicker menacingly as we continue our journey to escape. The lights seem to settle for just a moment before turning off completely, leaving us in total darkness. I quickly take out my flashlight as Nimble clings onto me like his life depended on it. Which it does, if my promise is anything to go by. We slow our pace a bit as we cautiously continue to the end of the hall. I look around with the light and find where the hall branches off to our right. This school really seems to love hallways that go right, doesn’t it?

At the end of this hall, we see what looks to be a set of double doors. Above them is an exit sign softly glowing red. I can’t help but feel a bit excited to see it. I highly doubt this was the actual exit to get out of the school completely, but at least we’d be one step closer to actually finding it. That’s assuming this isn’t just another one of those fake doors this school seems to also love so much. The end of the hall comes seemingly in the blink of the eye and we’re both staring out the windows placed in the doors. It seems there’s an actual outside to this school after all, as outside the windows is a long walkway connecting to a second building. It’s gotten lighter outside, but is still fairly dark. Luckily, lanterns hang from evenly spaced posts along the entirety of the walkway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! There’s a whole other building?!” Nimble exclaims with an exasperated groan.

“Sure looks like it,” I say as I look down at him.

“Ready when you are.”