A Clap of Thunder

“Damn it, stop struggling!”

Day was beginning to break over the horizon. The body under my hooves—a rope around his neck, a burlap sack over his face—was fighting desperately for life. It was hard to hold down, but he hadn’t been strong enough to overpower me when all this started, so he wasn’t now either. My screaming muscles tightened my grip, both hooves pushing down harder in the shallow water.

Just a little more, just a little more! The hooves kicked, the thrashing became more frantic, more terrified. I squeezed harder, trying my best to not leave a mark. Nopony can know I did this.

Splashing slowed. The bubbles became fewer. One last push! And then, I felt it. The thing I’d been waiting for. Defeat. Resignation. An end to this.

The body stopped.

I let go, giving him the chance to sink. You only let your captive revive once. That mistake wasn’t one you make twice.

Movement stopped completely. No floating, the rock was done and down at the bottom. He’d be full of water and hard to transport, but better that than give him the chance to live to tell the tale. I pulled the corpse back up, loaded him into my cart, threw a tarp over him, and made my way back to the warehouse. Any walk becomes a long one with cargo like this.

Manehattan’s dawn had finally crested. Nopony was out at this hour, at least not in this neighborhood in the sleepless city, but that didn’t make me any less wary.

The cops had gotten bolder as of late. Wandering into places they shouldn’t, making arrests where we had deals. Things have gone so far south in the last few weeks that it makes my head spin. But, with this little piece out of the puzzle, all that should fall apart.

The bricks I asked for were laid out right where I expected them. With all the material in place, the next part, the most vile part of this job, was the real tough task.

Unicorns were way more common now than they had any right to be. Magic everywhere, new spells that could find ponies. Another new development that ruined the delicate balance we had. They’ll know he’s missing soon. However, our lovely media, who also hated this guy as much as we could pay them to, would keep the real story locked away with the key thrown out.

It’s the secret he could never figure out—how far they were in the tank for us. Why won’t they report on the boss? Because they love the boss. Why isn’t anypony covering the murders? Doesn’t fit the narrative. Manehattan is falling to ruin with all the crime and drugs washing over the city; doesn’t anypony notice?

A few things in this city you aren’t supposed to say, and that was one of them.

After a few hours, my gruesome duty was done. One heap in the furnace, the other in my tarp lined with bricks, I set to work tying the bundle together. Got to be careful about the smell. Doesn’t get too hot in Manehattan this late in the year, but anypony with a nose in a ten-mile radius isn’t going to miss this. Match lit, the kerosene poured all over the inconvenient traceable parts, I tossed it into the housing. Blast door shut, that nice hickory I cut the other day masking the smell, this piece would be gone for good.

It’d been a long day. Never would’ve believed a guy like this could be as honest as he was, but he did like his booze. He had good taste in liquor at least, I’ll give him that.

Thinking about it a little harder, I dug around the crates in this place for the one where I kept my personal stash and pulled out the bottle I was looking for. A little farm out somewhere in the middle of the country, not too far south from the capital but nowhere near anything relevant, sold it through a shipping startup out there.

Hard apple liquor, 1955. Only a couple years old, but the taste would be just as good as any of the expensive crap the boss likes. Some ponies just get off on having a price tag to show around. I poured a triple into a little glass I had for just such an occasion. Wasn’t the first time I’d done this, nor would it be the last.

They think the shovel means I’m bound for construction work. Oh, if only they knew. They won’t, though. The system in place, the machine running right, Manehattan is set to return to normalcy. One false report, one missing pony, and this whole movement for a ‘safer Manehattan’ would die out like embers in an ash heap.

When the sun went down, I’d take my load to the harbor, and that would be the end of it. For now though, I had time to kill. One more problem taken care of, Undertaker had his day of rest.

The whiskey went down smooth. A quiet burn at the back of my throat, the sweet hint of apple at the end of the swallow, this stuff was too easy to down. We’ll stop at one for now. When the job is done, that’s when I can really relax. Until then, sleep was calling to me.

I’d like to think that hiding in plain sight was the boss’s special talent. You couldn’t really tell what he was meant to do based on the knight chess piece he had on his flanks, but if nothing else, it made him popular with the intellectual class, and that’s all the currency you really need to rise in a business like this.

For Equestria, and probably the rest of the world, Manehattan was a technical marvel. Factories that forged steel, new construction techniques that let us build higher and higher into the sky until we got to the point where we had to worry about wind actually knocking things over. The pegasi can eat their hearts out. The unicorns can take their fancy castles and shove ‘em where the sun don’t shine. This was earth pony engineering at its finest. First the skyline, then the stars above. Together, we’d make Ebon Chevalier’s dream a reality.

“Undertaker,” he called from his desk at the head of this immaculate room.

“Sir?” I stepped forward on the red carpet, waiting for the praise I knew I was here for. The reward for my task, the accomplishment of retaining power in the city, the savior of the gang and all our—

“They found him.”

I blinked. I searched the boss’s violet eyes for any hint of humor, and worse than that, I found the slightest twitches of worry instead.

“But… but that can’t happen! I threw him in our harbor, they—”

He clopped a hoof on his big granite desk. The sound was deafening in this big glass room.

“Somepony saw you with him the night before.”

The alley was clear, nopony followed me. The drunk bastard didn’t even have a security detail. There’s no way.

The boss continued, “One of those sharp-eyed old mares who aren’t in our network, you know the ones. The ones who aren’t fond of us. She lives on the corner of 91st, and just so happened to remember to take her laundry back in her apartment when she noticed that a ‘young, pale yellow stallion with a red mane’ was walking the gubernatorial candidate home. She thinks she remembers seeing a shovel on your flank.

Anger flashed through my veins. “She’s full of shit! It was pitch dark! I made sure I was away from the lights!”

The boss’s security, all four of the burliest stallions in Manehattan, took a step toward me, but stopped at a signal. “Whether or not that’s true, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she spoke with her son about it, a middle-aged stallion who goes by the name…” He sighed and ran a hoof through his glossy black mane. “…Bird’s Eye.”

I bit into my hoof. Shit. I checked the eyes of all the guards in the room, and none of them looked any more confident than I did. This cannot be happening.

“That spook ain’t here, is he?”

Rubbing at his temple, the boss turned his big chair toward the northern window. His next project, the Manehattan Building, was slowly coming together as beams on giant cranes were lifted from the ground to the top as worker ponies riveted them into one another. A giant structure like blocks a colt would play with, on a scale he could only imagine. One day, it would be taller than the castle atop Dragonspine. The princess could have all the labor from all the ponies they wanted for their thousand-year-old abode, but us? We’d build something bigger and better in a matter of months.

“You need to leave Manehattan.”

I swallowed. “But, sir—”

“That wasn’t a request, Undertaker.”

My rear hooves slid out from under me. I have to leave? Manehattan? I was born here. I grew up here. The gang's here, my friends are here, we had a goal, a vision!

Bravery compelled by fear had me speak up again. “Sir, can’t I just lie low for a while? I don’t have anywhere else to go. Manehattan is my home.”

The boss took a deep breath and turned back around to face me. He nodded to one of his guards, and the huge guy took a bag from some hidden compartment and brought it to me. It jingled when it landed heavily next to me on the carpet.

“You have been one of my best assets, Undertaker, don’t misunderstand me. I value you and your service to the cause more than most, but this is Bird’s Eye. The crown will know if he goes missing. This isn’t a problem we can just take care of like usual. You understand—if he gets you, he gets me—don’t you?”

I gritted my teeth. I ought to find that old biddy and dig her an overdue grave too! Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“What…?” My mouth was so dry. Where’s that liquor when I need it? “What should I do, sir?”

“In that bag is a map of a hoofful of frontier towns I’ve marked out for you. Bird’s Eye never stays anywhere for more than a couple years. You pick one, or all of them, and keep out of sight for at least five years. When things have cooled down, I’ll send for you. But, and I cannot stress this enough, you cannot tell anyone where you’ve gone. Unicorn magic has ruined enough for us, and if the crown gets involved, we’re subject to truth spells. If they find you, they find me. Remember that, Undertaker. Pick a new name, pick a place, and the bits in there should be enough for ten years, let alone five.”

I grabbed the bag and checked the contents, remembering all the lessons this stallion has taught me over the years. As long as I don’t spend it all in one place, nopony should question a guy carrying a few coppers around.

“It means a lot to me, that you’d take this good care of me, sir.”

“I know, Taker.”

I felt… so lost, looking at this stallion. To have to say goodbye to the only stallion who ever thought I was worth a damn after all these years. All the skills I’ve learned, all the experience I’ve gained, all the ponies I know. For the first time in my life, I noticed how old he looked. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the strands of silver coming into the black beard, the weight of age on his once strong shoulders.

I cinched up the bag, got to my hooves, and threw it on my back. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, sir.” I was about to move.

“Taker.” He got up out of his chair and came close. “Eventually, every stallion has to make it out on his own. If the day comes when you find out we can’t see each other again, remember that…” He fumbled his words, emotion clear on his face. He brought me into a hug. “I wish my son had been more like you.”

Goddess, what is he trying to do, break me before he sends me off? Come on, sir, don’t do this to me.

He pushed himself off, patted my shoulder, gave me a light smile, then nodded to the guards.

I bit deep into my lip as the stallions ushered me to the elevator. I understand physical pain. I can deal with physical pain. It was almost not enough.

I paid off my landlady, told her to get rid of everything however she wanted to, just to make sure my name was scrubbed off her records. She was in the network, so she’ll know the drill here in a few days. I was never much of a spender, and if I couldn’t eat it, I didn’t need it.

One thing, though, was that little ukulele. Only thing I remember about mom was this thing, and for the life of me, I could never get rid of it. Between that and the shovel pendant the boss had given me on completion of my first job, there wasn’t much else worth keeping.

I changed about one platinum for a couple golds, a hoofful of silvers, and way too many coppers. On that alone, I could probably get by for a few years, but it was better to be generous with coppers than be stingy with the higher value stuff.

I decided that it was best there were no records of me leaving Manehattan. Hooves were greased, and I was allowed to hang out in the train yard overnight and hop aboard a freight train headed south. I didn’t ask any questions because if I don’t know where I’m going, nopony else can either. South was rural, south was safe. Anywhere I end up is fine.

So much power in Manehattan, all slapped down by a single unicorn, the bastard.

Still, it wouldn’t be so bad. With me out of the picture, nothing could really lead him to the boss other than speculation. These honor types like Bird’s Eye have to play by the rules.

Around six in the morning, my little box was shut by my buddy with the rail union. A pile of hay, a few crates that didn’t smell, and a blanket or two, and I was off to who knows where. I took out the apple liquor and the old uke, tuned it up right, and played and drank for a while before sleep took me. It was going to be a long ride.

“Good Goddess! Pa, Pa there’s somepony here!”

My head was throbbing. Couldn’t feel my shoulder, my body ached like nothing else, and for the life of me, I couldn’t get my eyes straight. The whole world was blurred and wrong.

“Hey, boy, are ya alright? Oh, Goddess, he’s bleedin’! Pa!”

Green. Braids. Orange. Eyes were messed up. My body hurts, can’t move half my legs. I know I drank most of that bottle, but I shouldn’t have been that hammered. What is going on?

“Annie, get him on my back! We gotta get him back ta the house!”

A mass of red obscured everything. A little trickle down my face made everything even redder.

“Everythin’s gonna be alright, boy, don’t’cha worry none! Stay with me, please? Can ya feel my hoof?”

I rolled, but something sharp stabbed my side. “Fuck!” I tried to grab a spot, but my hoof refused to respond. A little shoulder movement, but it was like the rest got disconnected.

“Be more careful, Annie!” the bigger, redder voice said. “Run on ahead and tell Ma we’ve got a survivor! He’s real messed up. Lots of broken bones, brusin’ everywhere. Bloodloss. Ah’ll have ta move slow.”

Pain and heat and cold and pain. Good Goddess, the pain. A wave, even worse than the burning cold or the freezing heat, washed over me.