Wild clouds and salty seas danced to the tune of the singing angels. Another pleasant dream. Sonata looked around, smiling, legs dangling. Warmth filled her heart. Here she was safe and here she was free.
Then, the sensation of an electrifying jolt shattered the illusion of happiness. Two familiar female yells thundered loud enough to pierce the veil of slumber. The blurry world ripped into a cracking blackness as mysterious as night.
Tightness gripped her body, rapidly draining her usual cheerfulness in favor of chilling horror. A silvery explosion rocketed through the endless landscape of sudden nightmares. Demons of colorless ink danced on the edges. Fear gripped her in every stead and beat of breath. For her unconscious world to shred itself, and let her know, instead of a serene slumber, signaled a genuine emergency. She urged herself to be summoned, washed away from the trembling quakes of jet ground. Intensity and howls echoed.
She awoke with a choking gasp, with worry stressing every muscle, bone, nerve, and bloodstream. Something was terribly wrong, and she was immediately determined to find out who was responsible. Slogging emotions hit her like a punch to the gut. Sonata quickly activated herself. Adagio and Aria might be in danger–she simply sensed as such.
Deep pools of sweat and substances drenched her bright pink sheets and Pretty Pretty Pegasus-themed blanket and pillowcase. She’d pout having to wash them and resort to the dull, gray back pair, but far more important matters were at play. Honing her advanced hearing, the apartment was deathly silent. She felt grateful for it, one of her sisters’ and her few remaining abilities after defeat and redemption. Yet she heard not even the silent thumping of their snoring forms in the other two bedrooms. Sonata literally rolled out of bed with her blanket on as fast as lightning. Her clothes were mismatched and rumpled; she must’ve been tired and hastily put them on before bed.
She wrapped her comfortable rectangle of plushy cotton around herself to double as protection as well as assistance in waking up. Jump she must, into bravery and action. Forming a hoodie, and huddling her arms together over her chest underneath the blanket, Sonata blinked rapidly. Spikes of feeling shot throughout to power her to her full ability. The great concern she held for Aria and Adagio, in that order, pushed her all the faster. Her mind began to analyze the possibilities of the current situation. Drool dripped as she yawned awake. She breathed in and out to relax.
She’d still need a coffee to get through this. Or ten. Thank Pinkie–a warm cheek flushed passed– for the frosting-flavored packets. She tried to recall yesterday, but all memories were entirely fuddled at the moment. So twenty coffees, when she could, should do the trick, after dealing with this eerie situation.
Hoisting herself off the cushy rainbow rug, getting off the rough, glitter-infested wooden floor, took a few moments. In quick succession, Sonata lifted her sluggish body in a flurry of movement. First, the elbows arose in a crab-like state. Then, arching the knees. At last, the back perched to fully slosh onto the feet’s support. By instinct, Sonata blindly fumbled for and nabbed a magenta-splashed baseball bat lurking behind her headboard. However, it felt a bit sticky for some reason. With the blanket held wrapped together by her left hand, and batting defense wielded in her right, the siren swiftly marched into the awaiting unknown.
Concern for her apparently missing sisters propelled Sonata to act fast yet cautious. Now, more than ever, required strategy, not positive peppiness. Solving a mystery took the experience one built to put it to the test. Sonata clenched her
The first obstacle was nothing but the door. But first, she took a look at her room. It finally hit as her senses fine-tuned the exhaustion away. Fidgety fingers encapsulated the bat as weary eyes went teary. Aside from her unkempt, ruined bed, not a single thing was as she had known it. Every piece of furniture was tipped or moved. Bottles of glitter littered. Her eyes flickered between the art supplies spilled all over, the stacks of paper tipped, the plushies scattered. Her closet’s contents protruded outward, spilled and gone through. And one half-eaten cupcake in her dirty clothes basket.
Fury erupted in her heart. Fire lit in Sonata’s glistening, tired violet eyes. The grip on her bat increased a thousandfold. Whoever did this would pay. To hurt the sirens meant death. The concern for her sisters’ whereabouts also shot up. Guilt as to why she had been left alone cropped up.
Sonata angrily yawned–she had to calm down. Focus returned to the door.
She really didn’t want to let go of the blanket or bat–yet she must hurry. Yawning, a brilliant idea popped up. She cracked her neck, shook her frazzled morning hair, and prepped her batting arm. Out of sheer laziness, and efficiency, muscles pumped. One smattering crack of flying shards unleashed. The bat bounced back from the attack. A door knob clanged onto the ground. Sonata frantically pulled the door inward with the bat handle after flipping it around. Then, she returned it to normal grip. She prided herself on the hat, or in this case, bat, trick. Fixing it became a later problem.
Peeking her gaze into the barren carpeted hallway, Sonata saw no one. To her alarm, the doors to her sisters’ bedrooms stood jarred wide open. This piqued both her intrigue and fear. The siren shuffled out of her room. The dullness of the apartment’s browns and whites and grays and black miffed as always. The bat went to her shoulder to possess a better striking angle. The dullness of it all was specifically why her room had been splashed with paint colors of every manner. Another crippling yawn overtook her for a few seconds. A few raw, rubbing blinks. Time to delve out and deliver justice.
It appeared safe out in the deadly, carpeted wasteland. Confident in its emptiness, Sonata dared venture outward a foot. Taking a deep breath helped subsidize the internal turmoil. She must act in accordance, and protect herself to help others if the situation extended beyond the apartment. Time to explore elsewhere. No clues in her room as to these events’ explanation.
Next, she checked Aria’s room, directly across from hers. Kicking the door open revealed no one inside. Further shock and awe overcame her. Though, the yell felt nice. The dresser was completely ransacked. Frankly, its state nearly matched her room. Except, most of her sister’s scarce personal belongings remained untouched. Curious. Everything else, from the desk to stool to bed, had been thoroughly thrashed. They also appeared to have been splashed with fluids. The last thing she noted was a horrible smell. Checking in the bathroom, a rotting pile of frosted cakes and meats filled the tub.
Flashbacks of horror films she’d watched over the years reeled in a split-second montage.
Zombies.
That was the first thing that entered Sonata’s mind after carefully considering the smell and sight.
The thought exploded. The clues made perfect sense.
A million utterances of crap jammed Sonata’s thoughts.
A sudden infection, invasion, or others must have hit last night. They’d broken in, chased her sisters away before they could get to her, and wrecked everything in search of sustenance. They must’ve spared her being too pure of heart, and therefore her flesh too disgusting, to eat. Furthermore, they left their leftovers in spite. Stomach acid promised to unleash its vile form as an amassed projectile. Uncountable years underneath her sister’s protection, yearning to be the one for them, inverted. Now was her turn to protect them.
Step one would be to ensure their apartment remained a safe, secure, defensible haven. For as long as the plumbing worked, or until Adagio required a better manicuring location. For them all, she must keep herself uninfected. Searching for them would only matter after step one became a fulfilled objective.
The blanket flew off as a wave of equal panic and rave swelled, then burst. Tossing it over the bathtub compost, to mitigate the smell somewhat, Sonata flung into action. Quickly, she slammed Aria’s closet door open to raid it for protection equipment. She slung on her sister’s leather jacket, strapped on spiked boots, attached thick shoulder pads, fit the biking helmet on, and stuffed other knick-knacks, such as brass knuckles, into the pockets. All a bit big and too stylish for her, and cramped atop her wrinkled pajamas, but better than nothing. Thank Faust Rarity and Aria started a fashionable motorcycle gang. Otherwise, she’d have no armor.
The first course of action would be to board up. Setting traps, stock supplies, and such followed after. Sonata stretched her arms, the bat in both hands. Time to put the multipurpose tool to use. Despite her noodle arms, she managed to uplift the mattress. Not much time might remain to ensure survival. Up the bat went, and down it whipped. The bed broke apart a dozen strikes later. Sonata sourced nails, also from Aria’s closet. Thankfully, her room and the living room were backed by the apartment behind them.
Piece by piece, Sonata used the splintered boards to cover the window. She dared not to open the blinds, not ready to witness the horrors of the outside world. The bat hammered the nails into the wall. Once the window’s borders were finalized, the other pieces fit snugly to cover the entirety of the space. Sonata bent the springboard into barbed wire to fill in the gaps. While she did the work, it felt like a piece of this mystery was missing. Yet, in her haste to live, she dismissed it for now. She constructed low-grade but effective traps from other objects in the room. Once completed the work, she went back to her room to snag the cupcake. Yummy.
Years of surviving on the run contributed to the fast-paced building. More time to devote elsewhere. Sonata half smiled; this fortress guaranteed the safety of her sisters once she found them. She tried not to think they were gone. She’d find them, her friends, everyone. They’d solve this apocalypse together as friends. With birthday parties every step of the way.
Satisfied, Sonata journeyed to Adagio’s room to double-check no atrocious monsters awaited hidden. To her relief, there were none. No need to use her mighty metal weapon–yet. Adagio’s room, next to her, also lacked a window. Additionally, similar to her and Aria’s rooms, pretty much everything counting as furniture like knocked up. A few of which her sisters owned too, but hardly much. The bed was the worst. More mystery substances coated it as well. Here and there, an assortment of partially consumed desserts. Zombies like eating and abandoning baked goods. Sonata figured as much.
Aria’s room would be a time buyer, with plenty of shrapnel to deter visitors. Her room ought to be the true shelter–therefore booby trapping this to serve as a distraction suited best. The bat accordingly pummeled high-octane action. Sonata beat the dresser, bed, two chairs, the desk, and a bean bag into shreds in mere minutes. Right away, she giddily concocted blueprints on her mind, bouncing about. Seven minutes later, an indescribable assortment of traps concocted from the depths of her imagination brimmed the bedroom. Satisfied, Sonata added a tripwire on her way out—one last nitty-gritty touch.
Given the horrendous amount of noise she no doubt generated, Sonata deduced no creature or anyone else hid elsewhere. Knowing herself, she’d have either checked it out or ran. Even so, she took precautions when advancing. The hallway bathroom proved clean of occupants but just as messed up as the bedrooms. No boob trapping it anyway as long as plumbing worked. Sonata kept the bat ever prepared for any moment. Inching to the end of the hallway, she glanced her quivering eyes first at the dining room, with a pitiful peak in the kitchen. All good. Though, she’d have to board up those windows. And eat those piled baked goods.
Battle cries sounded whilst she charged out and around the corner, ready for the expected unexpected. Nothing. The couch, other couch, recliner, TV stand, and computer were positioned in irregular states. Weirdly, electronics remained set aside, undisturbed. Stranger still, it appeared cleaning substances had wiped applied to the walls. Maybe these were clean freak zombies. Sonata did ponder why the dining room table and chairs were flipped about, too. Walking back, the empty kitchen counters also exhibited the same signs of sanitization.
Sonata shrugged. No need to bother questioning why dining room objects were in boxes in the corner. The clues did not add up, but that felt par for the course for any obvious zombie catastrophe. She had her sisters to protect and find as soon as possible. Detective mode placed second in order of importance.
The siren went to work. Dining room tables and chairs gave up their stable forms to be reduced to sharp debris by the magenta bat. Sonata obtained rolls of duct tape in the kitchen cabinets. Some minutes later, the remaining windows in the kitchen and dining room were completely covered. Oil and grease were slathered over the majority of the two room’s floors. To get through required knowing the path. Next, she rearranged the living room furniture into a mini-fortress. Thus, the front apartment floor beheld barricades of varying forms. Pride filled her.
The last step before seeking her sisters now arrived–travel preparations. Sonata carefully waddled to venture into her room once more; the bat faithfully stayed at her side. Nabbing a Wonderbolts-themed backpack, she stopped in the bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. She also polished off one of the pink-frosted cupcakes in a box. Next, Sonata returned to the kitchen laced with obstacles. Heart beats thumped as can after can and toothbrush and hammer and more took occupancy in the backpack. The jerks who took her sisters away, she vowed, would be beaten to a pulp with Sonata trade-marked cheerfulness.
Ten minutes later, Sonata zipped up. Apartment secure, supplies gathered, and her bat ready for swinging. Deadly curls edged up to the corner of her lips. Justice and vengeance become one and the same. Taking a few practice hits on a pillow helped out immensely. Readiness surged Sonata’s entire being. She stepped forth so she–
–the doorbell rang.
Whoever they were, they’d come back to wreak havoc.
Announcing their presence highlighted the imminent intruders’ cockiness.
Sonata grinned wickedly. That mistake would be their downfall.
Another ding-dong
She refocused herself.
Sonata raced to the door, footsteps deftly dodging the very dangers she’d set. The backpack could do nothing to slow her speedy feet. Boiling worry hissed to let loose, a cauldron stirring, wanting to unleash its steam. She let it pour forth. Battle cries roared out as she unlocked the door. First, she ripped the keychain out with her bare bands. The conventional lock fell victim following it. It bent ninety degrees as the siren forced it to the left. Sonata swung the door open mighty. Strength spilled from head to toe, side to side. The bat raised above her head in furor.
Sonata’s vision literally blinded with rage as she charged outside.
The bat swung to the right as the visitors scrambled to the left.
Two familiar female voices screeched out.
“Sonata, that’s my stuff!”
“Calm down, soda can!”
She froze in place.
Her mind processed.
Eyesight returned to normal as she cocked her head to face them.
The siren burst into cheerfulness. There stood her sisters, terrified, flabbergasted at her. Nonetheless, they were safe. Happiness beyond words set off very much akin to a hydrogen warhead. Her sisters had managed to fight, fend, and find their way home. She flung the bat off into the hallway. Gargantuan booms sounded, glass shattered, and someone’s cat meowed for their life. None of it mattered in comparison. Sonata, in stolen motorcycle gear, rushed toward them. Adagio ducked to peek through the open door. Aria fell victim to the first crushing hug.
Adagio visibly shook as she retreated from the door, her face indeterminately phasing between a scowl and a sigh. Sonata ambushed her as Aria took her turn to take a look. They ought to feel safe now. Aria experienced a similarly agonizing hug to her sister, only being released due to the fact staying alive necessitated breathing. The exchanged glance between her sisters confused Sonata. Even so, she remained sure all would be well after they conversed. Before doing so, she attempted to recoup her bat.
Her oldest sister’s weary question stopped her in her tracks, however.
“Sonata.” Adagio dejectedly pronounced, as if dead. “What… did you do?”
Glee infused itself in Sonata’s response. “Well, you two were missing when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything, so I grabbed my bat-”
“Please, I already have a migraine,” Adagio groaned. “Jump to the end of the chorus.”
“I do need some coffee myself…” Sonata yawned vigorously, her earlier exhaustion reactivated.
Aria facepalmed. “We’ll get some after we talk about this.”
“Yay!” Sonata’s arms shot up.
“... so continue your story. Quickly.” Aria practically begged.
“Okay!” Sonata shot up. Her tongue sputtered. “In summary, it was so obvious to me. Zombies broke in and wrecked our apartment and stole you two away. You’ll be amazed at how zombie-proof it is now!”
A few moments of silence passed. Multiple eyes twitched.
Adagio broke it.
“Sonata… there are no zombies.”
“Huh?” She genuinely felt confused.
“Just… check your phone,” her oldest sister insisted.
She’d forgotten she had one. Adagio also facepalmed. To access it, she took off her gloves, giving them to a very much grabby Aria. Slipping her phone out of her pajama’s pockets, Sonata saw a dozen or so missed calls and messages. One in particular excited her, so she checked it first. The customized pink appearance, for this special contact, flashed open as she read the last text received from Pinkie.
It read: Fun night, cookie! We went wild. Let’s do it again sometime, shall we? ;p
Blinking at it didn’t help. Nor did angling her gaze. Sonata racked her brain for memories. As last time, nothing surfaced. Returning attention to her sisters, Sonata blanked out.
“I don’t get it.”
Aria simply held up her hands to signal Sonata to watch. Which she did. The middle sister proceeded to hold out the pointer and middle fingers on each hand. The other two, and thumb, were folded in. Two scissors shapes formed. Aria followed up by intermingling the scissor shapes. Finally, she glared expectantly.
Flustering heat flared Sonata up. Everything felt warm and awkward and embarrassing and many other feelings mixed in the surprising moment. Twiddling fingers emerged. It didn’t help her recall last night. But the state of the apartment she’d woken up to arising from the implied circumstances with Pinkie made much, much more sense than zombies.
“Uh… sorry?” Sonata attempted to apologize. She nearly coughed in conflicting guilt.
“I told you to bring her shopping with us.” Aria punched Adagio.
Adagio handed Aria a crumpled twenty whilst sighing extremely loudly. The protective gear weighed a hundred times heavier on Sonata as her thoughts scrambled.
“So….now what?” she asked.
“Let’s… just go get some coffee, shall we?” Adagio suggested.
Looking at the third sister, Aria nodded in agreement.
“Yippee!”
Pumping her fists in the air, Sonata forgot all about the apartment-and what she’d done to it–in an instant. The craving for frosting-flavored coffee took hold. That, and maybe the desire to see her girlfriend while they were out for the morning. A tingle pulsed through her. She ran down the hall, snatched her bat out of the glass shards, then roped her sisters into a hurried pace down the stairs and out to the car.
Best, most fun, morning ever.
