Fallout Equestria: The Ditzy Doo Chronicles

by Ten Mihara

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Adventure, Derpy Hooves, Crossover, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 168763

200 Years is a long time. It's time to tell my side of the story.

Hi, my name is Ditzy Doo. Many of you know me as the author of the 'Wasteland Survival Guide'. For 200 years I wandered the Equestrian Wasteland, and through those experiences I gained the knowledge that I shared with everypony through the Guide. Now, it's time to tell my side of the story.

Published 2012-01-18 04:20:24 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-01 23:24:54 UTC

Foreword

Foreword: Concerning Ghouls, and Myself

Ghouls.

Most Ponies living here in the Equestrian Wasteland are familiar with them in one form or another, although the level of awareness varies from one pony to the next. For those less familiar, ghouls are ponies who have been exposed to lethal amounts of magical radiation, yet did not die. The reasons for this are still speculated upon, but nopony seems to have nailed it down just yet. Perhaps if somepony does, a way to help these unfortunate souls can be found. For the time being though, they are what they are.

In becoming a ghoul, the pony's body suffers from cellular necrosis. This causes a loss of hair, coat and tail included, as well as severe damage to the outermost layers of skin. The damaged flesh rots and flakes away, giving most ghouls an appearance akin to zombie ponies from old horror films. However; unlike zombies, ghoul ponies still have the mind of a regular pony, and are not just shambling, cannibalistic monstrosities.

Sadly, not all ghouls stay this way. For a variety of reasons, which are again subject to wide speculation, many ghouls lose control of their mental faculties. They devolve into feral zombies, acting only on instinct and ferociously attacking anything and everything they encounter. Make sure you can tell the difference between these two though, otherwise somepony innocent might get hurt. Too many mean ponies can’t be bothered to differentiate; please don’t be one of them.

Despite the unfortunate nature of their circumstances, ghoul ponies have a few unique perks stemming from their condition. The first of these is an immunity to magical radiation. Since they've already suffered from lethal doses of radiation, further exposure has no negative effect on them. In fact, some ghouls report feeling better when exposed to minor amounts of radiation. It has actually been proven that this exposure does indeed have a regenerative effect on ghoul ponies. As well, they can survive much longer without food or water.

The other benefit, though some might not consider it as such, is that ghoul ponies have unnaturally long lifespans. Many ghouls alive today were even around during the war two hundred years ago. This increased lifespan stems from the same cellular mutation that causes ghoulification, although some speculate that there might be a necromantic component from the megaspells involved. This is debatable, as radiation from sources other than megaspells can still create ghouls.

Now, you readers may be wondering why I felt it necessary to ramble on about ghouls for so long. I did so because I wanted to offer some explanation that might help you understand the rest of this tale a little better. My name is Ditzy Doo, and many know me as the author of the Wasteland Survival Guide (Pick up a copy today! First copy for every family is free). Those who are personally acquainted with me already know this, but some of you who have never met me might not. I am a ghoul pony. Not only that, but I am one of those who has been around since before the apocalypse that created the Equestrian Wasteland.

Two hundred years is a long time, and it was through those years and the events that filled them that I came to possess the knowledge that I shared with all of Equestria through the Guide. However, a hoofful of ponies have been curious about more than just how to survive out here. They want to know how Equestria came to be a wasteland, how various parts of society as it currently stands came into being, and what hope there might be for a future when the present is so uncertain. A few even want to know my personal side of the story.

Before the war I was a humble mailmare, not privy to the inner workings of Equestrian politics. I couldn't tell you anything about the war beyond my own personal experiences, or those of some old friends of mine. All I know is that it was awful, and never should have been allowed to happen. Unfortunately, it did, and we're all here now as a result of it. Still, trying to make the best of a bad situation is something I'm fairly good at, which is why I am now writing the book you hold in your hooves.

It is my hope that by sharing my tales of the Equestrian Wasteland, everypony might come to see the wasteland for what it is: a tragic series of events for all involved. As well, it is my hope that by bringing this understanding, everypony reading this story will strive to make Equestria more than the desolate, barren place it is now. To you, the reader, I express my gratitude for taking the time to try and gain that understanding. I hope that with this new knowledge you might strive to better yourself, or even Equestria in its entirety.

Once again, my name is Ditzy Doo. What follows are my chronicles of the Equestrian Wasteland.

Thank you for reading.

Chapter 1: The End of Days

Chapter 1: The End of Days

“Clousdale... crumble...”

Normal.

The day the world ended started off as just another normal day. Or, as normal as Equestria in wartime allowed. As I stated before, I worked as a simple mailmare before the war. That didn't change much during the war itself; I didn't want anything to do with the fighting if I could help it. Instead, I started up my own delivery company, appropriately named 'Ditzy Doo Deliveries'. It was hectic work, given the nature of the world at that time. However; it did have the merit of being simple, honest labour.

That said, it would have been naive of me to think I could escape the war. It consumed the entire world, and nopony had the luxury of falling outside its reach. The vast majority of my business during the later years of the war came from the Ministries of Princess Luna's government. Even prior to the formation of the Ministries I did a lot of courier work for the military.

My presence in the city of Cloudsdale on the day the megaspells destroyed Equestria was actually a bit of a fluke. The day before the apocalypse I received a message from the Ministry of Peace hub located in the cloud capital. They had large shipments of medical supplies that needed to be delivered, but all of their regular couriers were otherwise occupied. As a result, they contacted any other pegasus based delivery service they could reach.

I arrived in Cloudsdale in the early hours of the morning. The sun was just barely above the horizon when I touched down with my wagon in the Ministry of Peace hub loading bay. A number of other pegasi were there as well, having been called in much the same manner me. I smiled and waved at a few of them, although most seemed more intent on getting the job done. If they were anything like me, they had their hooves full of work as it was, and the added load was not entirely welcome. I wasn't about to complain about it though, as MoP always worked for the good of everypony. Up until the very end, they tried to help as many ponies as they could.

I entered the MoP facility through the rear entrance off the loading bay. From there, I followed a few other pegasi down a narrow hallway leading to a reception area. We waited there as the secretary behind the counter called out to us by the names of our various delivery companies. I ended up waiting there for about an hour before I was called up. I was equal parts worried about the need for all of those supplies, and glad to be a part of their delivery. I walked up to the counter, another pegasus called at the same time accompanying me. I don't remember her very well, but I remember that she smiled at me. She too seemed glad to be of what help she could.

I smiled back before directing my attention to the secretary and the invoice she placed in front of me. It listed the items that I would be delivering, and where I would be delivering them to. Curiously, I glanced over at the invoice given to the other pegasus mare. The list of items on it was nearly identical to mine. Two crates of RadAway potions, two crates of regular healing potions, one case of extra strength restoration potions and one case of Med-X brand painkiller. Her shipment was headed towards Hoofington.

My invoice had all of the items that were listed on hers, but it also had one that was not. It was simply labelled as 'Private Footlocker'. I glanced at the location I was delivering the goods to: Canterlot. Specifically, the Canterlot MoP hub on Ministry Walk. After double checking the invoice, I picked up a pencil in my teeth and signed the paper with my name and trademark. That mark was seven bubbles floating upwards, identical to the cutie mark that adorned my flank.

After signing the invoice, I returned to the loading bay and found a pair of pegasus bucks loading the crates and cases into my wagon. Both were grumbling about the extra work, but I didn't begrudge them for it. I saw the same pegasus I had been at the counter with walk past me to a wagon of her own. Waiting for MoP bucks to finish loading my wagon, I watched as she expertly strapped herself into the wagon's harness and took off. Had I known what would soon come to pass, I might have asked her name.

After the two stallions finished loading the larger crates, a unicorn mare wearing a Ministry of Peace nurse's dress walked over to my wagon. A soft glow enveloped her hooves, enchanting them to grant her the ability to walk on clouds, a trait normally exclusive to pegasus ponies. Her horn was alight with magic, and a field of levitation surrounded a footlocker that floated alongside her. It too bore the colours of the Ministry of Peace. The unicorn stepped into my wagon and secured the footlocker at the back, directly beneath a small safe that I kept records and invoices in. I also had a sample bottle of Sparkle~Cola RAD in there at the time, but that's not really important.

With the footlocker secured, the unicorn stepped out of my wagon and turned to leave. Before she did so, she shot me a look that suggested the contents of that locker were worth more than my small delivery business in its entirety. She departed, leaving me feeling a little sheepish. I closed and latched the back of my wagon shut. After confirming that it was secure, I flew around to the harness at the front of my wagon. I hovered in place as I took the straps in my teeth and latched myself to the harness.

Once I made sure I was strapped in nice and tight, I gave a firm flap of my wings and began to pull out of the loading bay.

***

My departure from Cloudsdale was uneventful. I was able to pass the security checkpoint out of the city fairly quickly by informing them that I was making a delivery for one of the Ministries. The fact that it was heading for Canterlot notwithstanding, everypony tried to minimize friction as much as they could when the Ministries were involved. I was relieved, as the increased security was often responsible for shipments arriving late, both for and from me. As well, had I been held up any longer, I might not even be here right now writing about it.

Although the Ministry of Peace shipment would have normally taken priority, I had a small package that needed to be delivered to the Ironshod Firearms factory in the community of Hope. It was in the opposite direction to Canterlot, but a fair deal closer to Cloudsdale than the Equestrian capital. I headed westward out of the cloudy city, hoping I could drop off the package quickly and then reach Canterlot before midday.

I was flying over a long valley surrounded on either side by mountains, Cloudsdale not that far behind me. A large billboard depicted Fluttershy holding up a bottle of Sparkle~Cola sticking out from the mountainside. She seemed particularly happy to be holding the cola bottle, although I had never been a big soda drinker myself. I smiled while looking at it, reminded ever so briefly of a time when a new type of sparkling carrot beverage was the biggest thing in the news.

As I looked at the billboard, my right eye drifted of its own accord, settling on another billboard half a mile down the valley on the opposite side. This one was the typical military banner showing pegasus soldiers laying waste to wickedly drawn zebras. 'Better Wiped than Striped'. I had seen this billboard before, and I still hated it. I was briefly acquainted with a rather nice zebra who lived near Ponyville, and didn't like the idea of her being lumped in with other, less reputable examples of their kind.

Put off by the second billboard, I began to move down the valley again, intending to put it behind me as soon as I could. In that same instant, the end of days was upon me. Everything I had ever known would be gone forever.

Even though I was facing away from the city at the time, and despite my lazy eye impaired vision, the megaspell explosion that destroyed the city of Cloudsdale was plainly visible to me. A great flash of putrid green light flared up behind me, reflected on the surfaces of the mountains stretching out along the valley before me. On instinct, I turned on the spot to see what it was. I was momentarily blinded by the intensity of the sickly green flames with their spectral sheen and had to look away.

In the moment that I had looked back, I had seen the silhouettes of a few other pegasus drawn carts and wagons standing out against the flash. Moments later, I felt a rush of heat that I knew must be coming from the massive explosion. The intensity of the heat spiked rapidly and I began to spiral downwards, the heat sapping my strength. I flapped my wings as hard as I could in an attempt to level out, but it was no use.

Less than twenty seconds after it all started, I was struck by a wave of pressure caused by the explosive force of the megaspell detonation. I thought I could hear screams sounding out from somewhere behind me, carried by the echo of the mountain lined valley. It didn't last, as the pressure wave blew out my ears in a deafening crash. The last thing I remember was the ground rapidly coming up to greet me, then darkness.

***
I awoke to the sensation of rain falling on my face. Although that was the first thing to come back to me, it was immediately swallowed by intense pain. My head was pounding unbearably, I could not move either of my forelegs, and my stomach was doing cartwheels. Before doing anything else, I vomited. The taste of bile only added to my symptoms, and I'm fairly certain the act of vomiting alone caused me to do so a second time seconds later. I was not the most well versed in magical radiation, but I knew enough to understand I was in trouble.

With what had been my breakfast now spilled over the charred grass underneath me, I took a moment to look myself over. My head was still throbbing, but my stomach had settled down a touch. I could see that I was still strapped to the harness of my wagon. I had crashed into the ground hard, and both of my forelegs were broken and bleeding out of numerous small gashes. I looked back and saw that my wings, mercifully, were still intact.

I bit at the release to the straps of my harness, freeing myself from its mangled frame. As soon as I was loose, I flapped my wings and got as high into the air as I could without sending my stomach and head reeling. It was just barely high enough to keep the weight off my broken forelegs. Trying not to think about my legs, I instead focused what concentration I could muster on my wagon. It was a sturdy thing, and had survived the crash largely intact. It had sunk into the ground slightly and the roof had caved in over one corner, but it was otherwise fine. The impact had thrown the door open, spilling a number of crates out the back.

I made my way around to the back of the wagon, trying to keep myself from passing out again. One of the broken crates contained the shipment of RadAway potions. Some of the packets had burst, spilling the amber coloured liquid over the blackened, ash coated grass. I stretched out my neck, not wanting to touch down to pick up a packet, and grasped one in my teeth. I hoisted it up and turned my head upwards. I bit into the bag, allowing the contents to spill down my throat. A lot of it went down my face and muzzle as well, but the rain washed it off. Had I known what would become of me, I might have saved that packet for somepony who actually needed it.

I repeated the process of consuming RadAway potions three times. I didn't know if it was enough, but I had regained some of my lucidity. With my concentration improved, I tried to get my bearings. I didn't know how long I had been out, nor exactly what had happened. I looked up in the sky, hoping to see the sun for a measure of how long I had been out. All I saw was an endless sheet of grey clouds. The sensation of rain continued, making me feel a little foalish. Another thing I could no longer see was Cloudsdale, even though it would normally be visible from this distance.

In a flash of realization, I remembered the scream I had heard right before I crashed. I looked down the valley and saw the wreck of another sky wagon, a little less than a mile behind my own crash site. I grabbed another packet of RadAway in my teeth and flew towards it. I arrived there a lot more quickly than I figured I should have, and moved to check the pegasus still strapped to the harness. She was dead, the rear half of her body scorched black and most of her hair burnt off.

It was too much. I let out a scream, dropping the potion packet as I did so. My head swam as the scent of her burnt corpse reached my nose. My insides lurched and I vomited again, thankfully not on the recently deceased mare. I found myself crying, tears blurring my vision. I cried for the mare, who had died so horribly. I cried for myself, my insides feeling so many different kinds of wrong. Lastly, I cried for Cloudsdale, as the realization struck me that the explosion I had seen had come from the city, which assuredly was no more.

***
I awoke a few minutes later, not realizing until then that I had blacked out once more. I was still in a truly dreadful amount of pain, but it had ebbed slightly. This was not good, as I knew full well the severity of my injuries. The fact that I was laying on my broken forelegs, but could not feel them at all, stirred something within me. I glanced back at the dead pegasus mare and, despite being light headed, knew that I did not want to end up like her. I wanted to survive; I wanted to find out what had happened, and above all else I wanted to make sure that the rest of Equestria was alright.

I struggled to make my wings work, my lifeless forelegs dragging against the ground as I skittered back towards my own wagon. I nudged the bent door on the back out of my way, eyeing the inside. Everything had toppled over, most of the crates cracking and breaking open. Several healing potion bottles lay shattered on the floor. Thankfully, a hoofful were still intact. I grabbed one in my teeth and downed it greedily. I knew that it was risky, given that my legs were broken, but I would rather be alive and crippled than continue bleeding to death.

The gashes on my legs mended by the time I finished drinking a second healing potion, although I was still unable to make them move. Satisfied, though not thrilled, I grabbed a pair of saddlebags with my cutie mark emblazoned on them from amidst the wreckage. I turned them over, dumping the contents onto the already messy wagon floor. Once empty, I filled one of the pouches with the bottles of healing potion that hadn't broken. Only one of them was a super restoration potion, the other jars of which had shattered. I filled the other pack with as much RadAway as I could cram in from the crate outside.

Despite my burst of survival driven adrenaline, I was still on the verge of blacking out. Although I had mended the gashes in my legs, I had still lost a lot of blood, and the pain of the broken bones beneath was like thousands of tiny daggers. The only thing keeping me from losing consciousness again was a small, insistent voice in my head. For some reason I figured it was my will to survive, and it was telling me that if I let myself black out for a third time, I would not be waking up again. The image of the other pegasus, burned to death and lying motionless in her harness, flashed through my mind again.

Ignoring the cries of protest from my ailing body, I forced my wings to move. They flapped slowly but surely, lifting me a few inches above the ground. I wanted to tuck my forelegs under me to keep them from hitting the ground, but of course they wouldn't move the way I wanted them to, mangled as they were. Undeterred, I began to move again. I headed towards the end of the valley, as that direction seemed to be the least taxing on me. As well, heading up the valley would only take me back to Cloudsdale, which was no longer there.

I'm not sure how long I flew, although I know I wasn't moving very quickly. Without a clear view of the sun and no watch or other timepiece, I had no idea how much time had passed. I did know that by the time I exited the valley, the light filtering through the cloud ceiling was beginning to wane, marking the onset of evening. At least the rain had stopped, for now.

I was unfamiliar with the area I was now in, normally flying over the area with little heed for ground based landmarks. The terrain was relatively flat, and I could see a farmhouse and silo off in the distance. Hoping to find somepony there, I began heading towards them. The throbbing in my head was back and my focus was slipping. My forelegs had gone completely numb, and my insides felt like they were liquifying.

I drew closer to the farm, and almost thought I could hear somepony shouting. A flash of light shot up into the air from the fields around the farm, almost like a distress flare. In the dying daylight I couldn't see very far, but the flare illuminated a figure galloping towards me from the farmhouse. There was a soft glow atop her head, suggesting she had been responsible for the flare. Considering I was still a quarter mile away, she must have had very good eyesight.

Inspired by the seemingly friendly presence, I was able to push myself to hover towards the farm a little faster. The other pony ran towards me, meeting me halfway to the farmhouse. When she stopped in front of me, I was able to see that she was a unicorn. Her coat was a pale green colour and her mane was auburn streaked with orange. I wanted to raise a hoof in greeting, or say something friendly. What I did was black out for the third and final time.

Footnote: Ditzy’s S.P.E.C.I.A.L:
Strength - 5
Perception - 4
Endurance - 6
Charisma - 6
Intelligence - 5
Agility - 6
Luck - 8

Current Status: Initial stage ghoulification

Chapter 2: May Cure

Chapter 2: May Cure

“I know lots of other ways to take care of you. Don't worry, you're gonna get better!"

Voices.

I was adrift in a sea of calm darkness, and the only thing I could perceive through the encompassing nothing was a pair of voices. They seemed to come from all around, both distant and nearby at the same time. I felt my ears swivelling, trying to pinpoint where the voices were coming from. I also found myself trying to remember where I was and what I was doing. I couldn't seem to focus properly, like a fog blanketed the inside of my head.

“How is she?” asked one of the voices. From the sound, it was a mare, probably about my age.

“Better,” replied the other. Another mare, although definitely younger than me. “She's damn lucky though, considering what she went through. Another couple of minutes and she might have beyond any help.”

“How close do you think she was when it hit?” The first voice asked this with a somber tone, as though speaking of something painful.

“Not sure I want to think about it,” admitted the second voice warily. “Based on the amount of radiation she sucked up, it's a wonder she got back up at all. That's not even considering the crash afterwards.”

“Speak for yourself,” nickered the older mare. “From what you told me, you probably got as big a dose as she did. Maybe bigger.”

“Then I guess I'm lucky too.”

I finally opened my eyes after listening to the two mares talk back and forth for a few minutes. I was immediately able to tell that I was inside, presumably within the farmhouse I had been heading towards. I raised my head to look around, although my lazy eye slipped downwards and impaired my perception. I felt a mattress beneath my hooves; not soft, but not uncomfortable either. It was at that moment that I realized I had regained the feeling in my forelegs. Moving my good eye to match the downward gaze of my lazy one, I saw that both legs were currently sheathed in medical braces.

“Ah, look who's up.” I glaced sideways, forcing both my eyes to focus on the speaker. It was the younger mare who's voice I had heard while blacked out. She was also the same pale green unicorn that I had encountered on the outskirts of the farm before passing out.

I had a number of questions for the unicorn, many of grave importance. However, the first one that I managed to word coherently was: “Where am I?”

“The Pie Family Rock Farm,” came a response not from the unicorn. I looked to her right, spotting what I presumed to be the older mare whose voice I had heard before. Her coat was a pale, greyish blue and her mane was silvery with splotches of grey. She was a touch portly, but in a maternal sort of way. “I'm Marble Belladonna Pie,” she stated, smiling warmly; “but you can call me Blinkie. Everypony else does.”

I smiled softly at her, then turned my attention back to the unicorn. I was still having trouble forming my thoughts into words, my mind still clouded by what I presumed to be either blood loss, radiation sickness or both. “I'm... not dead?” Perhaps not the best way of putting it, but it got the point across.

“Not quite,” replied the unicorn. “You came awfully close though. Had to use that super restoration potion to put you right after I set and mended your legs, plus another couple regular healing potions after. Not to mention two more packets of RadAway to be safe. Hope you don't mind.”

I shook my head; “That's kinda what they were there for. How much is left? I didn't actually count what I crammed in there.”

“Well...” The unicorn kicked at the floor, looking a bit uncomfortable. She then gestured with a foreleg at the rest of the room.

I had been focusing so hard on the unicorn mare that I hadn't noticed the rest of my surroundings. I glanced away from her, looking around, my lazy eye drifting on its own again. I could see that I was in the sitting room of the farmhouse, but it was presently re-purposed. Two couches and several other mattresses covered the floor, each housing a pony in varying states of injury. Including myself, there were seven ponies in the impromptu clinic. The two laying on couches were covered hoof to head in bandages.

“Please understand, they were all in really bad shape,” explained the unicorn, her auburn mane falling in her face. “Some of them might have died if I didn't take your supplies; I had to! The MoP would kick me out if I didn't at least try to help them.”

I snickered, amused that somepony claiming to work for the Ministy of Peace would be so frantic about the confiscation of much needed medicine. “Those supplies were actually from an MoP shipment I was delivering,” I explained. “They didn't all make it, but at least they got to where they were needed.”

The unicorn stopped flustering and took a deep breath. “Okay, so I guess I don't have to feel bad about taking them.” She nickered at herself, then spoke to me with a somber tone. “Still, everypony here owes you a great deal of thanks. If I hadn't stopped believing in miracles, I would think you were one.”

I nodded firmly, pleased to have set her at ease. Now that I was awake and alert, my concentration was returning. There were a few more things that I had to ask, although I didn't expect I would like the answers. “Please,” I began softly, “tell me what's happened.”

The unicorn mare clenched her teeth. “Zebras,” she spat bitterly. “They launched Megaspell attacks against Equestria yesterday morning.”

I gasped in shock, horrified. Megaspells were... unthinkable! No one would be foalish enough to use one of those; so many people would die. I wanted to protest, to tell her that she must be mistaken. Before I could though, I remembered the explosion that had caused me to crash. That sickly mass of green fire that had consumed all of Cloudsdale, and had burned the pegasus mare behind me to death. I choked, my words catching against a lump in my throat. My eyes burned as fresh tears welled up.

The mare sighed angrily, then continued. “There was almost no warning. So far as I've been able to piece together, they hit Cloudsdale, Manehatten, Fillydelphia and Hoofington before we were able to retaliate. Millions of ponies are dead because of those striped bastards.”

I retched violently, my head swimming again as my mind was unable to properly contemplate the horror that had just been described to me. Millions dead in an instant, and countless more in the aftermath. My mind seized, and I blacked out again.

***

“...can't really blame her for blacking out,” came the voice of Blinkie Pie, floating through the aether. “That kind of shock on top of injuries like hers...”

“She's coming around again,” interrupted the Ministry of Peace unicorn. I opened my eyes, looking up at her as she stood over me. My right eye rolled downwards, away from her gaze.

My stomach lurched, and I felt bile rise in my throat again. I turned my head away from the unicorn and heaved. A bucket hovered in front of my mouth, held up by a field of magical levitation. For a moment, the odd thought crossed my mind about what there was left in my stomach to expel. I looked back to the unicorn, who smirked at me. I smiled appreciatively as she floated the bucket over to Blinkie, who moved to dispose of the contents.

“You're handling the news about as well as I did,” remarked the unicorn, her expression soft but sad. She looked away from me, in the direction of the city of Manehattan. “I was close enough to Manehattan at the time of the attacks to see the city go up. Got hit with a wall of superheated, irradiated air, much like I suspect you did. At least I had the good fortune to be on the ground.”

The mare looked back to me, tear stains beneath her eyes. “Where are my manners,” she muttered, wiping her face with her hooves, “I completely forgot to introduce myself. Name's May.” She offered me a hoof to shake.

“Ditzy Doo,” I stated simply. I moved a foreleg to take her hoof, but she gasped and withdrew it suddenly.

“Sorry,” May blurted, “force of habit.” She then gestured to my brace bound forelegs; “I put a lot of effort into fixing those legs, so you're going to stay off them until I say different.”

I nodded, tucking my forelegs back underneath me. I then glanced at the other ponies laying in the room. Most of them seemed to be in similar condition to myself, beaten but not broken. However, the two mummified ponies laying on couches were another story. “What about them?” I asked, gesturing to the badly hurt ponies.

May looked like she was about to respond, but she was interrupted by a loud crackle of static bursting from the next room over. She and I both looked to the source of the noise, but from where I was I couldn't see past the wall. My right eye darted around, apparently trying to get a better view for itself.

“Aha!” came a young, chipper voice from the same direction as the static. “Told you I could fix it.”

“Congratulations kid,” came the deadpan tone of an older, more wizened buck. “Now we have plenty of static to pass the time listening to.”

Following the voices, May wandered away from me towards the next room over. Blinkie followed her. Despite May's insistence that I stay off my recently mended legs, I wanted to know what was so fascinating in the other room. Carefully flapping my wings, I lifted myself off of the mattress I had been laying on. Able to move them finally, I pulled my forelegs underneath me so that they wouldn't hit the floor. They were still very achy.

Following behind May and Blinkie, I got a proper view of their cutie marks for the first time. May's was a red cross overlaid by a syringe, while Blinkie Pie's was just a small pile of rocks. The room into which I followed them appeared to be a kitchen. The source of the voices were a pair of bucks. One was a deep green earth pony who looked hardened by the war, with a nasty scar along the side of his face. He was armed with a light assault battle saddle, the protective barding of which hid his cutie mark.

The other buck, a unicorn barely older than a colt, was much less stern looking. He had a tan coat and a light red mane, with a gear and a wrench for his cutie mark. He did not wear any armour, although he did have a small gun holstered at one shoulder. Several small ammo pouches hung along its strap. The rest of his shodding was made almost entirely of pockets, most of which held small precision tools. He also wore a vest with the Stable-Tec logo on the back. A soft, silvery glow around his horn faded as he placed a couple tools he had been using back in their pouches.

The static sound that had drawn me and the other mares into the room in the first place was being emitted by an old radio. From what I gathered, it hadn't been working until just now, and the tan unicorn had been the one responsible for fixing it.

“Well I'll be,” remarked Blinkie Pie. “That old thing hasn't worked in years.”

“I haven't met an appliance yet that I can't jury rig,” stated the colt proudly.

Ignoring his younger companion, the military buck turned to face May. “Well Miss Cure,” he began, “Gizmo got it working, just like he said. Do you really think you'll be able to pick up any communications on it though? It's kinda old.”

“Frankly; no,” replied May. I did a double take, not realizing at first that 'Miss Cure' had been referring to her. “However, with my Pipbuck out of commission, it was the best chance we had of getting any kind of transmission at all.” May held up a foreleg, though not the same one she had offered to shake earlier. It was adorned with an arcano-tech device that looked like a the offspring of a computer terminal and a wristwatch. I had seen such devices before, although the one she wore looked relatively new but for a coating of ash.

The soldier nickered, then cast a glance at the unicorn I now knew to be Gizmo. “How come you couldn't fix that then?”

Gizmo fumed indignantly; “Screw off Raider,” he snapped. “I told you, I need a spell matrix master key to reboot a crashed Pipbuck.”

Curiosity getting the better of me, I interjected. “What exactly are you all trying to accomplish with an old radio?”

Upon hearing my voice, May turned on the spot and raised a hoof in warning. She looked as though she was about to chastise me for being up and around against her wishes. Upon seeing that I was hovering, keeping any weight off of my forelegs like she had asked, she lowered it, grumbling to herself. She turned around and glanced at the radio. Her horn lit up with a soft red light, a matching light forming around the dial of the radio, tuning it.

“Trying to get some idea of what's going on out there,” May replied, fiddling with the radio dials. “I would normally use the radio in my Pipbuck, but it crashed when I got hit by the Megaspell backwash outside Manehattan.” The radio let out various squeals and hisses of static as she adjusted the knobs, trying to find a working signal. “If we're lucky, which seems to be one of my specialities, this thing might be able to pick up any emergency broadcasts being transmitted.”

“Miss Cure,” stated the stallion apparently named Raider, “who is she?”

“New friend,” suggested Gizmo, “or just another patient?”

May stopped fiddling with the radio for a moment, looking back and forth between me and the two bucks. She facehoofed; “Right, I keep forgetting about introductions.” She gestured towards me with her Pipbuck leg. “This is Ditzy Doo. She's the one who stumbled into the field yesterday evening. She's also the source of those healing potions, so you'd best be thankful.”

The older stallion nodded firmly, while the excitable colt smiled appreciatively.

May turned to face me, now gesturing to the other two. “This is Warrant Officer 'Raider' Stronghoof and Gizmo, Stable-Tec junior technician. Met both of them near Shattered Hoof Stockyard. Raider was a warden there, while Gizmo was actually there to fix a broken service elevator in the mine.”

“How come they're here then?” I asked. I knew Shattered Hoof to be a Ministry of Morale re-educational facility (as well as the site of an intense battle, although that ridge was on the other side of the country), and I wondered why one of the wardens would leave the place in light of what happened.

“Got locked out,” said Gizmo simply.

Raider expanded on this; “I was guarding the outer wall of the rockyard when the megaspell hit Manehattan. I left my post to get a better look, moving up to a nearby ridge.” He smirked and cast a glance at May. “She's lucky I did, otherwise I'd have never seen her coming.”

May glowered at Raider, trying to silence him with unspoken thoughts. He paid her no heed and continued; “She was far enough away from the city to avoid getting killed, but she still took a huge hit of radiation. She was staggering around aimlessly along the rails, puking blood. I got to her and force fed her some RadAway and healing potions out of her own supplies.”

“You weren't supposed to talk about that,” fumed May. “I don't sound as cool that way.” I chuckled dryly.

Ignoring her, Raider resumed his speech. “I had originally planned to escort her back to Shattered Hoof, but the place went into lock-down when the communication web crashed.”

“Was there anypony trapped inside?” I asked anxiously.

“No; a record on the main gate terminal stated that all key personnel evacuated shortly before the lock-down,” stated Raider. “Only ones left inside were the undesirables.”

“They're still ponies!” I protested, angry that he would think less of their lives because they had done some misdeeds.

“Don't worry about it,” Raider said, his even tone irritating me. “They've got enough food in there to last a couple days, and plenty of water. As I recall, an inspector also remained behind to look after things. Once things get sorted out, MoM will send some new wardens to deactivate the lock-down and put the facility back in order.”

I sighed, my anger ebbing. What he said had at least sounded reasonable, although I still didn't quite like the idea. “Then what happened?”

“Once May was back on her feet, she was insistent about trying to help anypony she could find. We passed through a town on the way here that had been hit by a conventional Zebra missile. ” Raider pointed into the sitting room clinic. “Those were the survivors we found. We figure everypony else was either evacuated or dead.”

I flinched at the mention of death, remembering again the burnt pegasus corpse. I supposed I would have to get used to talk of it though, considering all that had happened. I caught myself wondering if anypony I was friends with had died, but shoved the thought aside forcibly. I did not want to add weight to my already heavily laden mind. I also didn't want to throw up again, since I was a guest in somepony's home.

“We were really lucky to come across Mrs. Pie's rock farm,” cut in Gizmo. “After half a day of trotting away from Shattered Hoof, we were all in pretty rough shape. We hadn't actually been here all that long when you showed up.”

Blinkie's face went a little red and she gave a hoof wiggle; “Think nothing of it dears; I'm glad to help anypony in need.”

When Gizmo mentioned 'half a day', I realized that I had no idea how much time had passed since the incident. I glanced around the kitchen, looking for some sort of timepiece. It was my lazy eye that fell upon a clock sitting on a shelf above Blinkie's head. It looked as old as the radio, but the soft ticking noise coming from it suggested it still worked properly. According to the clock, it was around one in the afternoon. Well over a day had passed since my crash, but it felt all too surreal.

***

“So what now?” I asked May.

The Ministry of Peace unicorn had left Gizmo to fiddle with the radio while she went around to her patients, passing out a thin stew that Blinkie had made for us. I had already eaten my portion, and was now assisting May in feeding one of the mummified ponies. Apparently they had been caught in a military recruitment office that had been the target of the missile that hit the town. Both had suffered third degree burns across their whole bodies. They had been stabilized by the healing potions May had taken from me, but were still in painfully poor condition.

“To be honest, I have no idea.” May paused a moment to levitate a spoonful of stew into the mouth of the burned pony. “This was a decent place to rest up, and I'm endlessly thankful to Blinkie, but...” She turned her head away from the patient, whispering into my ear. “I'm afraid these two might not make it without proper treatment. If communications were up I could call for an emergency teleport, but that's not gonna happen.”

“Is there anything else you can do?” I asked. I had no desire to see anypony else die needlessly; too many already had.

“If I could get them to a proper clinic, then maybe.” May cast a glance at the kitchen, where Gizmo could be seen intently adjusting the radio. “Unfortunately, the closest place with a clinic to here is Shattered Hoof, and it's locked down. The town we found them in only had a post office and grocery left standing.” May grumbled to herself, cursing the circumstances we had been forced into. “My other hope was to hear something on the radio that might indicate help is on the way, but that's seeming less and less likely.”

A voice arose from the other room, not belonging to Blinkie, Gizmo or Raider. It was quickly cut off by another yelp of excitement from Gizmo. “Hey May! I got something! I think it's an emergency broadcast.”

May was still in the process of spoon feeding the mummified stallion and said as much. Gizmo nodded in understanding, then turned the volume of the radio to maximum. It was an old radio, and the signal was weak, but we could hear the voice of a mare over the airwaves.

“...st contact with other Manehattan hubs. No word from -bzzt-phia, Canterlot, Clouds-crackle- or Hoofington.” The static of the old radio kept cutting into the broadcast, skewering the message. Gizmo's horn lit up, bathing the radio in its glow. Apparently the spell seemed to help the reception, as the broadcast now continued without interference.

“Once again, this is Lieutenant Colonel Magpie out of the Manehattan Minsitry of Arcane Science Hub. The Emergency Broadcasting System is now transmitting on all active frequencies.” I thought to myself that the number of frequencies still active must not be very many, considering it had taken so long to tune into. The voice on the radio continued; “The defence spells around this facility shielded us from the megaspell detonation, but the rest of the city has gone dark. We have lost all contact with the other Manehattan Ministry hubs. There has been no contact from Fillydelphia, Canterlot, Cloudsdale, Trottingham or Hoofington. If there is anypony else still out there, please contact us as soon as you are able. Any new information will be broadcast as soon as it is available.”

The mare calling out through the MASEBS started over at the beginning of her message, desperately trying to reach anypony else who might still be out there. My heart ached after hearing the broadcast, despite having already been told about the attacks by May. It seemed unlikely that any major Ministry hubs remained to respond. It hurt to think that Magpie might not hear from anypony, stranded in the middle of a megaspell blast zone.

“Not even Canterlot?” remarked May, having finished her spoon feeding. “This is serious.”

“What do you think that means?” I asked, also done feeding the other burn victim.

“Probably that Princess Luna has the city cut off from the outside,” mused May. “It makes sense, considering that the fallout from megaspell attacks of this magnitude will take a long time to settle.”

“You don't think Canterlot was hit do you?” I exclaimed as the horrifying possibility occurred to me.

“Doubtful,” stated May. Despite her uncertainty regarding everything that was going on, her voice carried no hesitation or doubt of that. “Princess Celestia was there too yesterday, so even if the Zebras tried to hit Canterlot, they'd have failed miserably.”

I nodded, at least a little relieved by her confidence. “Hopefully Magpie can reach some other Ministry hubs. I would hate to see Equestria become some barren, lifeless wasteland.”

“Indeed,” agreed May. “Unfortunately,” she grimaced, “that means a little bunch of noponies like us are not going to be a priority. Which means I'm going to have to save them myself.” May beamed with enthusiasm for a moment, then glanced at me with a nervous chuckle. “Any ideas on how I can do that?”

I snickered, amused by May's blend of confidence and conundrum. “Well, you said we need to find a clinic in order to treat them properly. Shattered Hoof is the closest place with any kind of medical facility, but it's not an option. What else is nearby?”

“Not much,” sighed May defeatedly. “This rock farm is kinda in the middle of nowhere...” She looked towards the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the Stable-Tec pony. “Hey Gizmo,” she called, pulling his attention away from the radio, “are there any Stables near here?”

“Um...” he replied, screwing up his face in thought. “Stables Thirty-Two, Thirty-Five and Thirty-Eight are all less than a day's trot from here.” His expression turned stern, more so than I thought possible for the chipper pony. “But I can't allow that. The Omega-Level Threat Protocols would have been enacted when the Megaspells hit. Any and all Stables would be filled and sealed off by now. Even if I did have the means to override the doors, which I don't by the way; too low in the company, I wouldn't. The Stables were meant to protect ponies from exactly what happened out here, and I wouldn't waste that for the sake of a handful of ponies, even if one of them is me.”

I found that I couldn't help but be impressed by Gizmo's words. Despite his young age, he seemed to have a fairly solid sense of responsibility. I caught myself secretly hoping that he would have the chance to grow up into a good adult pony once everything was settled.

“Alright alright,” said May frantically, waving her forelegs in front of her in protest. “I was just asking if it was a possibility.” She let out a defeated sigh; “So, the Stables are out. Once again, I'm open to suggestions.”

Wanting to at least attempt being helpful, I chimed in. “How far are we from Ponyville? It may be a small town, but I never knew Nurse Redheart's clinic to be chintzy with supplies.”

May looked at me skeptically, although Gizmo seemed to seriously contemplate the suggestion. “At a good hard trot, I reckon we could make it to Ponyville in three days, maybe two if we cut back on sleep.”

“You're not serious, are you?” questioned May. “The fact that we don't know what's going on throughout the rest of Equestria aside, those two are in no condition to make that kind of trip. As well, the citizens of Ponyville would probably have taken any medical supplies they had for themselves.”

“Not necessarily,” interjected Gizmo. He elaborated; “Most of the population of Ponyville was slated for a spot in Stable Two. The town is far enough out of the way that they'd have had plenty of time to evacuate. Considering who was assigned as the Overmare of Stable Two, I imagine she even squeezed in a hoofful of ponies more than she was supposed to.”

“Why does nopony ever listen to the medical professional?” demanded May, casting furtive glances between Gizmo and I. “Even if the Ponyville clinic was viable option, it's still no less than two days away. Those two burn victims can't even sit up right now, let alone move around. Gizmo and I had to levitate them all the way here from that blasted town.”

“You say you're a professional?” I enquired, playing a bit to May's sense of self worth.

“Of course,” she said, seemingly pleased to have her ego stroked. “I was in the Ministry of Peace Spell Research department. Got a whole slew of tricks up my mane.” Realizing that I was toying with her a little, she scoffed. “Why?”

“If,” I suggested, pouring in a bit of the mercantile charm I had developed over my time as a courier, “we had a way to move them safely, would you be able to keep them stabilized long enough to reach Ponyville?”

May put a hoof to her chin, contemplating my suggestion. Her resistance seemed to be faltering. Although, that probably had more to do with her concern for the burned ponies than my persuasion attempts. “That might work, but I still don't see how-”

Cutting off the rest of May's Statement, I fluttered into the kitchen where I found Blinkie Pie cleaning up the dishes used in making our lunch. “Do you have any carts big enough for three ponies?”

***

“I still think this is crazy,” groaned May from atop the large wagon.

At my request, Blinkie had directed us to a large cart laying out by the silo. It was used to transport rocks from the farm to rock breaking compounds, such as Shattered Hoof. It was big enough to hold the two injured ponies, with room left for May to sit and keep them under constant supervision. Raider and I had taken to fitting it with a pair of mattresses to lay the burn victims on, while May helped Blinkie prepare some provisions for the trip. She and Gizmo had then magically floated the patients onto the cart, and May was now laying blankets over them.

“I know it might not be a great idea,” I admitted, slipping myself into one side of the harness in front of the wagon. Raider was already strapped into the other side. “Unfortunately, it's the best we've got right now.”

May sighed, defeated. She knew that our options were limited, and thus far this plan gave the two burned ponies the best chance at surviving. She attempted to regain some of her control of the situation. “Can't you at least let one of the ponies whose legs hadn't been broken pull the cart?”

I said nothing, but flapped my wings provocatively. May groaned.

The setup for our journey had taken a little over an hour, leaving us with plenty of daylight to travel under (allowing for a generous definition of 'daylight'; the sky was still completely closed off by clouds). Gizmo had brought along the old radio, rigging it up with a magical spark battery for power on the go. Blinkie Pie trotted over to us, carrying a few boxes of food and several canteens filled from a nearby well. She distributed them amongst the other ponies travelling on hoof, but then she turned away and began walking back towards the farmhouse.

“Wait,” I called out, stretching a wing in front of the retreating mare. “Aren't you coming with us?”

Blinkie looked at me and shook her head firmly. She then cast a longing glance at the farmhouse. “This war took my husband, two sons and even my two sisters from me,” she said, despair tainting her voice, which up until then had been quite jovial. “This old rock farm is really the only piece of my family I have left. It may be lonely, but I can't just leave it.”

I nodded solemnly, lowering my wing and letting her continue back to the farmhouse. She didn't show it in front of the rest of us, but I imagine she would start crying as soon as she got back inside. I ached for her, although I knew I could never feel what she felt. I had never had a family like that, and both of my parents had passed away before this awful war.

With food and water now in our possession, we were ready to go. I asked Raider to start pulling the cart, after which I would match his pace with a low altitude flight. I was used to flying solo with a wagon enchanted for aerial transportation, so the earthbound cart was a pony of a different colour. Raider had removed and stored his battle saddle in order to equip the harness of the cart. When he started walking, I was able to finally see his cutie mark. A golden, star-shaped lock and a matching key. I couldn't help but wonder what he had been before the war had made him a fighter.

With two or three days of travel looming ahead of us, most of which I would spend hauling the cart alongside Raider, I didn't relish the boredom that would accompany it. I glanced at Raider, looking to strike up conversation, but the stern looking buck didn't not seem like he wanted to talk. I looked back to May, addressing her instead.

“So, how come Raider was calling you 'Miss Cure'?” I asked. I had been curious about her name since hearing Raider call her that, but hadn't had an opportunity to indulge that curiosity yet.

“Oh,” said May. She paused for a moment, as though she was unsure about answering. “My full name is Mayflower Cure,” she said finally. “Cure was the name my family used for a small clinic we ran, and Mayflower is after my grandmother. It's a nice name, but it also makes me sound two generations older. So instead I go by May.”

I snickered, once again amused by the odd, yet good natured mare. Looking away from her, I cast a glance upwards, my eyes met with the sheet of grey clouds that covered the entire Equestrian sky. My lazy eye rolled downwards, but that only showed me that the clouds stretched all the way to the horizon. “How come the pegasi haven't cleared the clouds away yet?”

May shrugged; “You tell me. I'm not exactly up to speed on pegasus weather control policies.”

“It's a smokescreen tactic,” came the firm voice of Raider. “When Cloudsdale was hit, the pegasi branch of the military threw up the cloud ceiling to hide their other settlements. As well, most magically irradiated particles are heavier than air, so it would also protect them from the megaspell fallout.”

“How do you know that?” queried May. I had been about to ask the same thing.

“I don't,” admitted the soldier. “It's just what I would have done in their position. Zebras can't hit what they can't see.”

“But the attacks are over,” I noted, “shouldn't they come down and help?”

“I'd wager they're waiting for confirmation that the threat has indeed passed,” agreed Raider. “Also, they might hold back for fear of the radiation. Not sure how long it'll take to settle, but it won't make a huge difference. It's not like they can stay up there forever.”

***

The following two days passed in much the same fashion. Raider and I pulled the cart while May tended to the burned ponies as best she could. We slept, but not as much as we should have, valuing haste over rest. We passed the time with conversation, and periodically checked in on the MASEBS to see if Magpie had found any other Ministry hubs still hanging on. Unfortunately, it seemed that the only thing she ever had to report was confirmation of more places that had been destroyed by Zebra attacks. She heard nothing of Canterlot, which lent credence to May's theory that the Princesses had sealed off the city.

Although I hadn't thought of it when I first made the suggestion, there was another reason why Ponyville was the best possible place given the circumstances. The small town was a fair deal closer to the capital that where we had been. As well, it provided an unobstructed view of the cliff side where the capital stood, and would give us a chance to see what circumstances had befallen the city.

Unfortunately, the trip to Ponyville was not without consequence. On the morning of our second day of travel, one of the burned ponies succumbed to the complications of his injuries and passed away. We took the time to give him a proper burial, the least we could do considering, then redoubled our pace towards the small, outlying town. We were hastened by the sheer force of will of May, who did not want to see another of her patients expire.

Throughout the two day trip, there was one thing that struck me as odd more so than anything else: Equestria had gone quiet. In the two whole days of travel, the only other sign of life, beyond the nine of us, had been the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Magpie broadcasting over the MASEBS. With each broadcast she seemed to grow more and more desperate to get a response of any kind. Magpie also seemed to be developing a bad, harsh sounding cough. May suspected she was overworking herself to the point of sickness, as she had rarely left the broadcast in the whole of two days.

We finally arrived in Ponyville in the late afternoon of the second day since departing from the Pie family rock farm. As Gizmo had predicted, it was a ghost town. Not a single pony remained, at least not that we could immediately see. Prioritizing the life of the remaining burn victim, Raider and I pulled the cart right up to Redheart's clinic at my direction. Raider quickly detached himself from the harness and bucked in the locked front door, allowing May to levitate her patient inside.

The four other survivors followed Redheart into the clinic, presumably either to offer some help or rest after the taxing trip. Raider, Gizmo and I however, had other plans. Gizmo set his sights on the Ponyville Stable-Tec outlet. Ponyville did not have a military installation, but it did have an Ironshod Ammo Emporium, which Raider decided to investigate in case of 'trouble'. He didn't expand on what 'trouble' he thought we might encounter out here.

That left me by myself. I might have gone to help one of the others, but there was something I wanted to check first. I flapped my wings, pushing myself into the air so that I could see beyond the various houses and shops that comprised the town. Turning in midair, I eventually caught a glimpse of Canterlot, but was not sure what to make of what I saw. The entire city looked still, and was coated with a blanket of strange pink cloud. Another smokescreen tactic? I would have to inform the others once we met back up.

I set back down on the ground, May no longer seeming to complain about my legs, though they still bore the braces. They felt sturdier at least, and the pain was gone. I made my way over to the Stable-Tec outlet, the door to which had been opened without force. I suspected Gizmo had a key somewhere on his shodding that let him into outlet shops like this one. Entering the store, I found him behind the counter, looking at a terminal. There was a bright smile on his face.

Forgetting about my own news, I approached the counter and asked him: “What's got you so excited?”

“I was right,” he said simply. Without saying anything else, he hit a key on the terminal.

A message recorded on the terminal began to play. It carried the voice of what sounded like a middle-aged buck, who had an accent that suggested he was born and raised in Trottingham.

Final Entry:

"This is Pipsqueak, reporting to Stable-Tec main HQ in Manehattan. The Omega-Level Threat Protocols have been received and enacted, as per instructions. Those designated for a spot in Stable Two are now being escorted to the shelter by Overmare Sweetie Belle. Estimated time to complete evacuation: twelve minutes. I will be joining them to serve as the Stable's chief engineer and Pipbuck technician. All other citizens have been advised to evacuate."

The buck let out a sigh on the recording, then continued.

"I don't know if anypony will get this, given what's going on right now, but I just wanted to leave a record that we did it. We saved who we could."

I glanced at Gizmo, a weak smile on my face. “I'm glad,” I said honestly, “at least some ponies were spared this horror.”

Gizmo nodded in agreement. “Plus this is just one Stable. With all of the Stables accounted for, at least a hundred thousand should have been saved.”

That statement stung; millions had died, and that estimated hundred thousand saved was such a small number by comparison. I shook my head, telling myself I should be glad that they were safe, no matter how many of them there were.

Another thought popped into my head, regarding the message on the terminal. “Pipsqueak the Pipbuck technician?” I mused, smirking about how funny that sounded.

“Funny how names work out like that isn't it?” replied Gizmo. “Don't pick on Pip though; he was a senior engineer at Stable-Tec. One of the best. Plus, whether he meant to or not, he left me one of these.” Gizmo's horn glowed, floating up a small, magical precision tool that I could only assume was the one he had mentioned he would need to fix May's Pipbuck.

“Anything else he left behind?” I asked, curious.

“Doesn't look like it,” stated Gizmo, a touch of disappointment in his voice. “I could probably slap together a couple working doodads with the spare parts here, but I'd wager most of the good stuff got taken into the Stable.”

Gizmo began to scrounge around the abandoned shop, pulling together bits and bobs that he deemed salvageable. I left him to it, my experience as a merchant making me feel a little iffy about taking stuff from a shop without paying for it. Then again, he did technically work for the company whose shop he was scavenging. If he figured it would be alright, then I wouldn't be a neighsayer.

Back outside the Stable-Tec outlet, I bumped into Raider again. According to him, the Ironshod emporium had been left completely untouched. That didn't really strike me as odd; what use would there be for guns and bullets in an underground survival shelter? He had left the store untouched, deciding to keep everything stored away in there for the time being.

Together, Raider and I made our way back to Redheart's clinic. Inside, we found May tending to the burn victim. 'Tending' in this case meant forcing one healing potion down his throat after another. The other survivors were inside as well, having taken up the clinic beds to get themselves some much deserved rest. I was feeling a bit tired myself, but I would wait a little longer. I was still hoping to see the burned buck make a recovery. Raider opted to go to sleep, having done a greater share of the pulling work than I had.

I watched May intently for about half an hour, making mental notes about her methodology in case I ever needed to treat somepony myself. Given the situation Equestria was currently being subjected to, I felt that would be all too likely. After forcing no less than eight healing potions down the stallion's throat (I had been right about there being ample supplies here), May proceeded to change his bandages. Once she had the old ones stripped off, I noticed that although the buck was now completely devoid of hair, his skin was slowly but surely mending. Presumably, the same could be said for his interior injuries.

Once his bandages were properly changed, May laid the buck down on the nearest bed. She silently moved away from him, joining me near the clinic door. “He's gonna make it,” she said. Her voice sounded hopeful for the first time since leaving the rock farm.

“I've got some good news too,” I stated, wanting to share in some of that hope. “Gizmo found a recording in the Stable-Tec shop. The Ponyillians got into Stable Two.”

May beamed at this news. “That's wonderful! Too bad we can't join them for risk of contamination,” she nickered.

True that it was disappointing, but we were still alive, and so were they. “Actually, there's one more thing,” I said, gesturing for her to follow me outside.

“Oh?” said May, curiously coming along.

“Yup.” I led May out of the clinic and through Ponyville, explaining my find while taking her to a place she could see for herself. “I got a glimpse of Canterlot while you were tending to that buck. It's still there, and looks to be pretty much intact.”

May's eyes widened in an almost comical fashion. “Really?!” she blurted out. She then galloped out ahead of me, heading for the edge of town to get a glimpse for herself. Not as young or spry as she was, I had to take flight to catch up to her.

I watched as May stepped outside the town, glancing up to the cliff where Canterlot rested. She stopped cold and fell to her haunches. I presumed it was in awe, but when I got closer to her, I noticed that she was silently shuddering. Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide with shock. At first I had hoped it was a joyous shock, but her whispered words killed that hope cruelly.

“Oh no...” Her shuddering grew more violent and her eyes flooded with tears. She looked like she was going to be sick. “Not... Littlehorn...” She said nothing more, collapsing into wretched sobs.

The only thing I knew about Littlehorn was that it had been the sight of Princess Luna's personal magic school. It's inhabitants, mostly young students, had been massacred by Zebras midway through the war. The impact of that event had caused Princess Celestia to abdicate the throne to her younger sister. I could only imagine what kind of horrors it entailed, although May clearly knew a lot more about it than I did.

Trying to comfort her, I crouched down next to May, placing a hoof over her shoulders. She pushed me away forcibly, her sobs uncontrollable. As my leg slid off of her, several chunks of her coat came along with it. A number of strands from her mane fell out at the same instant. I didn't notice at the time, due to my concern for May, but my own coat was beginning to shed as well.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Advanced Ghoulification.

Status Effect: Exposure to massive amounts of radiation have permanently mutated your body. Exposure to radiation is no longer harmful to you, and radiation saturation in excess of 400 Rad/s will cause your health to regenerate. Your lifespan has been increased dramatically.

May’s S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength: 4
Perception: 5
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 8
Agility: 6
Luck: 7

Chapter 3: Under New Management

Chapter 3: Under New Management

“So, I set out to try my luck in the big city: Manehattan!”

Pink.

Of all the colours of the spectrum, pink is normally one of the most cheerful. It is usually associated with parties, candy, streamers, and other joyous things. However, if you put it together with certain other words, it can lose much of its pleasantry. 'Pink' plus 'slip' gives you the notification that you're out of a job. 'Pink' and 'eye' produce a rather nasty irritation. 'Pink' and 'cloud', I would discover, yielded the name given to the foulest necromancy spell that the Zebras had ever developed. That same Pink Cloud now covered every inch of Canterlot.

Upon seeing this horrendous sight, May had gone into shock. I had wanted to comfort her, hoping to calm her down and get a proper explanation of why she was upset. I didn't get the chance. May began to cry out horrendously, thrashing involuntarily. I tried to calm her, but all I got for my trouble was a hoof in the jaw. I was scared for her, and called out for help at the top of my lungs.

I was greatly relieved that my new friends managed to hear my cries. Within moments, Raider and Gizmo both joined me on the edge of town. Raider had a syringe in his mouth, which he handed off to Gizmo's telekinetic grasp to free up his mouth, informing me that it was a sedative. I imagined he had previous experience dealing with prisoners throwing fits during his time at Shattered Hoof. Raider and I then proceeded to pin May's thrashing limbs while Gizmo stuck the needle into her thigh.

The effect was immediate. May's thrashing died away and she went limp. Her anguished cries quieted until they were little more than whimpers. Finally, she drifted into unconsciousness, allowing Raider and I to lift her up. We took her back to the clinic, laying her on an empty cot. I pulled a blanket over her, hoping to stop the small shudders her body still gave off. Wanting to give her a chance to rest, the three of us left her alone and exited the clinic.

“What happened?” asked Gizmo once the three of us were outside.

“I'm not entirely sure,” I answered honestly. I started walking towards the edge of town so I could show them the view of Canterlot as well. “She saw Canterlot, mentioned Littlehorn and then threw a fit.”

“Everypony knows about the Littlehorn massacre,” said Gizmo, sighing and lowering his head as he recalled it. “My older sister died there when I was just a foal. I don't see what that has to Canterlot though.”

“I do,” said Raider, his gaze fixed on the distant cliff side. He stared at it with a hint of disbelief, then turned to face Gizmo and I with an explanation. “I read the reports on the Littlehorn Massacre once; most upper level military personnel would have as well, considering the new weapon that was used there.”

I suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew I was not going to like what I was about to hear. My sympathies went out to May for having already known. “What was it?”

“They called it the Pink Cloud,” replied Raider, pointing to Canterlot. “Obvious really. What's not obvious is the extreme lethality of it. Not one pony ever survived exposure, nopony at Littlehorn was spared. Poison gas laced with necromantic magic, at least so far as I understand.” Being an earth pony, Raider having a less than adept understanding of the intricacies of magic made sense. I didn’t know much about it either. “If I had to guess, I'd say Canterlot got hit with a megaspell version of it.”

“What about the Princesses?” I demanded frantically. May had been confident that Luna and Celestia could thwart a megaspell attack on the capital. However, if one had in fact gotten through, particularly one as awful as Raider made the Pink Cloud out to be, then the hope that they were still alive was murdered brutally.

Raider shook his head. “I couldn't tell you. The Princesses are made of tougher stuff that any normal pony, but even they have their limits.” I suddenly felt dizzy. “There's a chance they could still be up there, but I can guarantee that everypony else in the city is dead.”

That was it, game over. If the Princesses were gone, then there was truly no hope for Equestria.

“Maybe not,” chimed in Gizmo. I glanced at him, the dreadful feeling in my gut almost screaming for him to say something that might rekindle my hope. He looked hesitant, clearly shaken by the news of the Pink Cloud, but a small bit of determination came through on his features.

He clamped down on that bit and spoke: “Stable One was built in Canterlot, and it was designed specifically to house the Princesses and most of the upper echelons of Equestria's government. Apple Bloom suspected that Canterlot, being the capital, might have to deal with bigger threats than balefire bombs. There's no way she wouldn't have made adjustments to the Stable's design to allow for those possibilities.”

I was skeptical. As nice as it sounded to know that Canterlot was home to a Stable for the Princesses, there was no guarantee that they had made it in. As well, just because Stable Two had been filled and sealed successfully, that didn't mean all of the other Stables had. "Is there any way to know if they made it in for sure? And what if the Stable didn't seal properly?" I desperately wanted Gizmo to say something, anything that would placate my fears.

Gizmo shook his head; "The only way to know for sure would be to check a local Stable-Tec facility. That or the maneframe at the central hub in Fillydelphia."

“The regular Pink Cloud was shown to be able to soak into or pass through just about anything,” added Raider, “A megaspell version could only be more potent. Even if they made it in, it's impossible to guarantee that they're safe, even in the Stable.”

“Granted, there's no guarantee of anything right now, but...” Gizmo looked up to the grey, cloud filled sky. The glow of daylight filtered through it...

What Gizmo was alluding to suddenly clicked. “The Sun!” I declared, the knot in my stomach loosening, though not quite as much as I might have liked. “It's still moving!” There was no way that they sun would be moving on its own, it never had. Somewhere, somehow, the Princesses must still looking out for Equestria. They had to be.

The entire incident surrounding the discovery of the Pink Cloud had left me feeling extremely drained. I retired to the clinic, laying on a cot close to May's. I hoped that what Raider, Gizmo and I had discussed could bring her some peace when she awoke. Raider came along, having been ripped from his own rest by my call for help. Gizmo returned to the Stable-Tec outlet with the intention of seeing if he could fish anything else out of the terminal, as well as get to work on the miscellaneous bits of technology that were left. I dozed off eventually, glad to have a brief reprieve from the terrible things going on.

***

I awoke some time later, though not entirely sure how long due to the lack of an ankle watch or wall mounted clock in my immediate viewing range. What I could see was May, awake, and apparently fussing over the burn victim again. She had removed some of his bandages, although he was still completely hairless. At least he seemed to be able to move under his own power again.

Noticing his lack of hair, I thought to what had happened right before May's fit. Looking closely, forcing my lazy eye to look straight at her, I noticed that patches of hair were missing all over her coat. Most notably, her cutie mark was marred by several roughly shed patches, half of the image missing on either flank. As well, much of her tail hair was gone, a few strands even falling away as I looked on. Her mane was only marginally better.

Finished with the burned buck, she let him get back to resting. She turned around and came back in my direction, noticing that I was awake. “May, are you...” I began to ask if she was alright, but she preempted me.

“I'm fine, mostly,” she said, although I was certain she was lying. I imagine she was busying herself with caring for the other survivors to avoid thinking about Canterlot and the Pink Cloud. “Radiation exposure is NOT good for one's hair, but it should only be temporary.”

When she got close enough, I pulled May in with both forelegs (now lacking their braces), and hugged her for all I was worth. “You know that's not what I meant,” I said into her ear.

May gave a shudder, then began to sob wretchedly into what was left of my mane. Much like her, although I hadn't been paying so much attention, I had suffered a lot of hair loss. I rubbed her back and let her cry for a while, not saying anything. I started to cry a bit as well, needing the release as much as she did. We eventually stopped, and I released her from the hug. She wiped her eyes with her hooves, more bits of her coat flaking away. I did the same. With her tears stopped, I told May what Gizmo and I had discussed.

“Then there's still hope,” May concluded once I told her about Stable One. The part about the movement of the Sun seemed to do her a world of good. I couldn't shake a feeling that she was forcing herself to feel that bit of hope, but I ignored it, wanting to feel it for myself as well. “They won't be able to get out while the Pink Cloud persists, but it should eventually disperse.” Despite the return of her optimism, she looked rough, although I couldn't blame her considering all she had been through. I imagined I didn't look much better.

***

I had apparently awoken late in the morning. The other survivors (aside from the burn victim) were up and around as well. Under the direction of Raider and May, we went through the town, gathering up any provisions we could find. Although the town had been spared a Zebra attack, the fallout from the megaspells would eventually find its way there. May was particularly concerned about bottling and refrigerating as much water from the still clean river before its source turned foul.

By the end of the day, we had gathered a decent amount of food and water. The town had been home to many hundreds of ponies prior to its evacuation, and had more than enough to accommodate the nine of us as we were. That notion had given May the idea of turning the town into a refuge for other survivors. How she planned to find them or notify them was not clear, but it still struck me as a good idea. If we had managed to survive, then others would have too, and they would need a safe haven.

The other thing to come about by day's end was the near baldness of May and me. She was a bit luckier than I was in that regard, possibly because she was younger. We had both lost our coats in their entirety, and my tail was little more than a stub. May still had some of her tail hair, and about half of her mane. I had a few strands at most. I had even lost a few feathers! May found our situation comical for some reason, perhaps because of all the things radiation could have done to us, baldness was of least concern to her as a physician. It was also the least of our problems to come.

Lastly, May gathered the rest of us together at the end of the day, apparently with an announcement. “I'm heading back to Manehattan.”

“What?” we all declared in unison. Raider's objection was particularly loud, but that was largely because his voice was louder than anypony else.

“That's suicide,” declared the former warden. “Look at what the megaspell radiation did to you outside the city,” he noted, looking her nearly hairless form up and down. “The city center will be a thousand times worse.”

“I know what radiation can do Raider,” May retorted matter-of-factly. “I was in the MoP Spell Research Division. However; the hair loss is a cosmetic problem at worst, and I'm plenty well enough to travel.”

“Your current wellness won't change the effect radiation has on you,” Raider insisted. He was wrong, but none of us knew that yet. “You went from healthy to puking blood after just a few moments of extreme exposure.”

“That's only because I was caught off guard.” May made that statement with more certainty than I had seen coming from her in a while. “I told you, I was in MoP Spell Research, and not without good reason.”

Intending to demonstrate her point, May's horn lit up with soft red light. That same glow rippled in the air around her, eventually forming into a solid hemisphere surrounding her. Her horn flashed again, and the glow around her shimmered, the colour changing to a pale green. It looked a little like the glow I had seen coming from Stable-Tec terminals. The glow around May's horn died and the shield faded away.

“Radiation ward and shielding spell,” May stated firmly. “I can keep them up long enough to reach the Manehattan MAS hub.”

Finally, I spoke up. “Why do you need to go to there?” I had already seen that May was willing to go to extremes to try and help ponies, but considering that it had survived a megaspell hit, the Ministry of Arcane Sciences hub seemed like the last place that would need her help.

May looked taken aback, and I felt awkward. Thankfully, her next statement relieved my anxiousness. “Right, I keep forgetting to explain these things first.” She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve. “Somepony needs to tell them about Canterlot,” she said. We all knew about it now, but anypony else who didn't have a clear view of the capital wouldn't yet.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “they need to know about Ponyville. Magpie has been broadcasting across Equestria almost nonstop for the past five days. We can't be the only survivors, but we're among the only ones who have a safe haven right now. If I can get to Magpie, I can tell her about Ponyville, and she can tell everypony else who's listening. Plus, they probably have ponies in need of medical aid. They did endure a megaspell detonation after all.”

I suddenly found myself looking at May with something bordering on reverence. She had suffered from the worst of magical radiation poisoning, seen the city of Manehatten wiped from existence before her very eyes, and even seen somepony she had been trying to save die right in front of her. Despite that, all she wanted to do was help as many ponies as she could. Through the Ministry of Peace, she had been doing so since before the megaspells went off. I suddenly felt inadequate, having spent the entirety of the war as a simple courier.

However, one could never be too old to change. I stepped forward; “I'm going with you.”

May looked at me like I was crazy. That was funny, since the feeling was mutual. “Are you sure about that? This isn't some simple supply run.”

Now it was my turn to sound offended; “Obviously you've never flown in a hailstorm before.” I glared at her, holding the serious expression a bit longer than I thought I could. I broke into a grin, then began to laugh heartily. More than I had in longer than I could remember. May joined in, nearly falling over onto her side in stitches.

We continued laughing for a good couple minutes, needing to take that little bit of joy for all it was worth. Once it was finished, I walked up to May, standing by her side. “I hope you know what you're getting into,” she nickered.

“About as much as you do,” I replied with a snort.

Raider stepped forth as well. “I can't let you go by yourselves. I'm coming with you.”

“Me too,” chimed in Gizmo, bounding forward.

I would have been glad to have more company, but May stamped a hoof down in front of the two of them. “No.” She stated flatly.

“Why not?” I asked, looking at May forlornly. My lazy eye chose that moment to wander, killing the impact of the look.

“Because this haven needs a leader,” said May. “I'm just a medic, but you,” she jabbed a forehoof at Raider, “have experience dealing with tough situations. You're a soldier and a prison supervisor, and you know how to keep things in order. More than anything, survivors that come here will need that. Order.”

“I suppose,” muttered Raider. He chuckled derisively; “I probably wouldn't be much use to you anyways. I'm a lousy shot, and I never saw that much action. MoM put me to work as a Warden so they could send better soldiers to the front.” The green buck stepped back, apparently placated.

Gizmo on the other hoof, was still insistent. “What about me?” he demanded. “There's no reason for me not to go.”

“Actually, there is something you can contribute here,” remarked May. I listened intently; the young mare seemed to have a fair amount of wisdom. “You're familiar with Stable-Tec equipment, and you're a miracle worker when it comes to broken technology.”

“That doesn't mean much anymore,” said Gizmo, nonplussed. “Stable-Tec HQ was in Fillydelphia. It probably would have been wiped when the megaspell hit.”

“Precisely,” retorted May. “For all we know, you could be the only Stable-Tec engineer left on the surface.” She then gave him a pleading look; “We need to know if the rest of the Stables worked. If there's any hope for the future of Equestria, it's in those Stables.”

Gizmo looked unsure. I couldn't blame him; May was effectively asking him whether or not Equestria would even have a future. It was a heavy question. Gizmo looked up at her resolutely. “Alright then, I'll do it. I should be able to bypass the encryption on the-”

I stopped paying attention when Gizmo started spouting off a bunch of technical jargon, turning to face May. “We'll need to rest up for this trip. Even if I'm not pulling a cart this time, it's still going to be a long haul.”

“I would insist,” snorted May. “Ponyville to Manehattan is almost a week's trot.”

***

The following morning saw May and I ready to go. May had taken a pair of saddlebags from Redheart's clinic and stashed a fair amount of medical supplies in them. My bags, their supplies either used or handed off to May, now held what would hopefully be a week's worth of canned and boxed food. I was tempted to make a batch of muffins at the abandoned Sugar Cube Corner, but they would go stale too quickly. A pair of canteens hung around each of our necks. We didn't want to take more than we had to, especially since we planned to send more ponies back here. They would need as much food and water as they could get.

I had offered to fly May and I part of the way to Manehattan, but she had refused. While never an amazing athlete like Rainbow Dash or Scootaloo had been, I was still a fair flier. In my youth I could make the Ponyville to Manehattan flight in half a day. Though I was no longer a spring filly, years of hauling wagons had kept me in good shape, and I felt I could still make the trip, even with a passenger, in good time. When pressed on the issue, May insisted that she didn't want to put any more strain on my addled body than was necessary. However, I could tell from the way she said it that there was something else. She was probably afraid of heights.

Just as we were about to leave, Gizmo ran up to us, levitating something along beside him. It was May's Pipbuck, which he had been working on all the night before. May held up her foreleg and allowed him to attach it with a firm click. “There we go,” said Gizmo. He looked and sounded rather tired. “I also updated the OS; apparently yours was missing a couple of the newer features.”

“Thanks,” said May, lifting up the arcano-tech device to inspect it. She gave a stomp of her hoof and the screen flickered to life. It had the same soft green glow as the terminal from the Stable-Tec outlet. “I never really realized how much I'd been using this thing until it got fried.”

“They're a marvel alright,” remarked Gizmo. “Apple Bloom really outdid herself on them.” Gizmo held up his foreleg, and I saw that he was also wearing a Pipbuck now, although his seemed to be slapped together from spare parts. “Oh yeah, I have one more thing for you.”

Gizmo's horn lit up with a magical glow, and the holster that was at his shoulder came undone. He levitated the holder and the small firearm it contained over to May. She, a bit reluctantly, grasped it in her own field of magic. She removed the gun from the holster to inspect it.

I had seen guns before, but not one like this. It was a smaller gun, the kind that would be mouth held if the wielder didn't have magic to lift it with. It looked like a revolver, but the cylinder was completely enclosed, and the barrel looked to be dually reinforced. May popped it open, revealing that the chamber held five shots. A small gemstone on the back gave off a soft yellow glow. Apparently Gizmo's technical proficiency extended beyond Stable-Tec equipment.

“It's certainly impressive,” remarked May, closing the cylinder again, “but I'm not sure I'll need it.”

“Everything is really uncertain right now,” asserted Gizmo. “I'd feel more comfortable knowing you had some way to defend yourselves if the need arises.”

May nodded, accepting that the younger unicorn had a valid point. She secured the holster at her shoulder, then placed the gun snugly into it. “I'll bring it back,” she promised.

“You'd better,” smirked Gizmo. “That Gun is my baby. Tared her down from a .223 pistol, reinforced the cylinder and barrel to cut the recoil, then motorized the cylinder and crane for a faster reload and rate of fire. That little gem on the back even lets her synch up with S.A.T.S. for higher accuracy.”

I didn't know what half of that meant, but it sounded impressive. May seemed to follow a little better, but still had a question. “S.A.T.S?”

“The Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell,” announced Gizmo proudly. “One of the newer features your Pipbuck was missing. Basically, it provides temporary assistance in combat by quantifying targeting vectors and...” Seeing the confused looks on our faces, Gizmo simplified his explanation; “It aims for you. With it and That Gun's enhancement, even somepony who's never fired a gun before won't be able to miss.” As an afterthought, he asked: “You have fired a gun before, right?”

“Yes,” stated May a little hesitantly, “but only at a shooting range. I spent two years as a field medic before transferring to spell research. They made us learn basic firearm use.”

“You'll be fine then.” Famous last words.

***

With Gizmo's gifts now in May's possession, she and I made our way out of Ponyville. It was going to be a long trek to Manehattan on hoof, but May was confident that we could make it in under a week. That would have been a lot easier if she let me fly us some of the distance, but she was still adamant about staying on the ground. I laughed inwardly, amused that somepony who had been on a battlefield would be afraid of something as pedestrian as heights.

To pass the time on the long trip, we conversed with each other, mostly about what our lives had been like before the war, and what we hoped they could become now that the war was effectively over. May had been working for her family's clinic before it was folded into the Ministry of Peace, much like my delivery services had been employed by the ministries a number of times. It was kind of strange that both of our cases involved us doing the same thing before and during the war, just under different circumstances.

Our conversations passed some time, but not nearly as much as we'd have liked. When we ran out of things to talk about, May turned on the radio built into her Pipbuck, tuning it to the MASEBS frequency. However, instead of hearing Magpie's usual broadcast, a different voice greeted us; that of a younger sounding stallion.

“Greetings everypony. As you can probably tell, I'm not Lieutenant Colonel Magpie. As of now, the MASEBS is under new management. My name is Turntable, and I'm just a civilian. However, I'm also the only other pony here who knows how to operate this equipment. My aunt showed me how most types of broadcasting and recording equipment work since I was a little colt.”

“Now then, as for why Miss Magpie is no longer here. An unfortunate situation has befallen us here at the Manehattan MAS hub, on top of the obvious. Although the magical defences of this building protected us from the brunt of the blast, what we didn't know was that a number of small holes in those defences were letting radiation leak into the tower. One of those holes was located here, in the emergency broadcast room. Unfortunately, by the time we realized this and fixed the problem, Magpie, as well as a few others, had already taken a fatal dose. I hope you all join me in a moment of silence for the brave mare who stayed up here, trying to bring you all the truth of this disaster.”

May and I stopped and bowed our heads, having shared a respect for Magpie and her attempts to reach out to what remained of Equestria. We stayed silent a few moments, only resuming our trek when the voice of Turntable resumed his broadcast.

“In her honour I will continue to bring you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. This brings me to my next bit of news; Prance and Bitaly have both been confirmed as having been destroyed by Megaspells. We still don't have any word about Canterlot or the Princesses, so if anypony out there is listening and can send us a message with that information, we would be eternally indebted to you.”

May and I shared a knowing, yet anxious look.

“Now then, as things look bleak, I remember something my auntie used to always tell me. My aunt's name was Vinyl Scratch, who many of you may have known as radio personality DJ P0N-3. She always told me that tough times were easier with good friends and good music. I don't know if I can be a good friend, since I'm stuck in the middle of a megaspell blasted city, but music at least I can do. I don't have much of a selection, just some of my personal collection that happened to be here. I hope it helps.”

Turntable's voice cut out, giving way to a song. I recognized it, as would just about anypony who listened to the popular music of the time. It was Sweetie Belle, beautiful songstress, face of public relations at Stable-Tec and, as Gizmo told us, now the Overmare of Stable Two. This song was a particularly sorrowful melody, and hearing it in the gloom of post-megaspell Equestria made my heart ache. The lyrics seemed eerily appropriate.

“How did this happen? What have I done...”

***

About two and a half days after departing from Ponyville, May and I found ourselves back in the proximity of the Pie family rock farm. We decided to stop in to check on Blinkie Pie, and also to refill our canteens from her well. When she first saw us, she jumped a good foot in the air. I couldn't really blame her; with our hair all but gone, May and I did look rather freakish. Thankfully it didn't last long, and we were able to stock up on water. We told Blinkie about our successful trek to Ponyville, and she was glad to hear it. Unfortunately, we still couldn't convince her to depart from the old rock farm.

We stayed the night at Blinkie's place before resuming our trek. Sleep, I found, didn't seem to do much for me anymore. I never seemed to feel that much better afterwards, and most of the time my sleep was riddled with horrible nightmares. May seemed to be the same, only sleeping a few hours at a time herself, but didn't mention anything to me. I suspected she was mentally berating herself for ignoring one of the most important parts of healthy living, being a medical pony through and through.

Another strange thing I found as we travelled was that hunger no longer seem to have the same pang as it used to. May and I had been eating sparingly to conserve the supplies we had brought with us, but for some strange reason it always seemed to be more than enough. That said, I would have given just about anything for a fresh muffin. They way things were, I felt I could get away with going a couple days before I felt like eating again. Whether that was actually true I couldn't say, as May also insisted on two daily meals, even if they were small.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all about our travels was, once again, the lifelessness of the once vivid nation of Equestria. Any plant life we came across was black, sickly or shrivelled, owing to the radiation and megaspell fallout. All animal life seemed to have ceased, or at the very least gone into hiding. Pony life as well, although given the number of places that had suffered megaspell hits, that was becoming less and less shocking. All together, the lack of life spooked me even more than the prospect of seeing death in front of me again. It was as though the land itself was sterile.

May's Pipbuck was constantly picking up background levels of radiation. Periodically the levels would spike, but never to the levels we had already experienced on the day of the apocalypse. As soon as that word crossed my mind, I shuddered. I really didn't want to think of that day like that. Really though, what else could I call it? Holocaust and doomsday fit, but they had the same problem.

Putting the thought aside, I pondered the minor radiation we were being exposed to. It felt nothing like the first day, when my insides had felt eight kinds of wrong and my head and stomach had been turning cartwheels. It felt a little like sitting in front of an open fireplace; cozy, but potentially dangerous if you sat too close.

May and I had been following the rails along the countryside for the sake of taking the quickest, and presumably safest route to Manehattan. We ended up passing through a junction north of Shattered Hoof. This made me think of Raider, and wonder if anypony had been sent to investigate the stockyard yet. I doubted it. It was sadly more likely that the ponies inside had either escaped or died. There were also other, more horrible possibilities, but I didn't want to contemplate them.

Five days after leaving Ponyville, it turned out that background radiation exposure was indeed taking its toll on us. May and I started experiencing 'cellular necrosis of epidermal tissue', which was just her using medical terminology to say our skin was dying and flaking off. Although we hadn't been getting sick, May had each of us drink a packet of RadAway in an attempt to stave off the effects. It didn't work, as by the next day our skin was looking even worse, and I had lost a few more feathers.

***

After our skin started to decay, May and I quickened our pace towards Manehattan. As we drew closer to the city, we began to find corpses. Ponies that had died of burns or radiation poisoning after the blast of balefire destroyed the city. I thought back to the pegasus mare who I had seen dead after the Cloudsdale blast. I wondered why she had died when I, not a quarter mile ahead, had been spared. Was it luck? Willpower? Or, more likely, I was cursed to bear witness to these horrors.

May stopped abruptly as we came into the suburb of Fetlock. She looked around, as though she was searching for something. She fell to her haunches after a few moments and hung her head.

“What's the matter?” I asked, trotting up to her. I sat down next to her and placed a now featherless wing across her shoulders in a pseudo-hug.

“Somewhere in this suburb is Stable Twenty-Nine.” Not the response I had been expecting. “I guess I forgot to mention this too,” muttered May, sighing. “My brother and nephew were slated for a spot there. I was worried about them, knowing how dangerous the world was, but I had never actually considered a total megaspell holocaust to be possible until he told me about his acceptance.”

Once again, I found myself painfully inexperienced in matters regarding family. No siblings, no children, not even status as an honorary aunt from friends' children. “Shouldn't you be glad then?” I asked, trying to be as supportive as I could manage. “If they're in a Stable, then they were spared all of this.”

May shook her head and sighed again. “I slipped out of touch with Buckbright about a week before the holocaust. I was really busy; the MoP never stopped having ponies to heal and provide therapy for, and it only ever seemed to get worse. I don't even know if he and his son made it into the Stable. They might not have gotten the chance, given how suddenly this all happened.”

“Is that why you were so insistent on having Gizmo find out about the rest of the Stables?” It made sense now that I thought about it, more so than just a general concern for those who would survive thanks to the Stables. There was something personal thrown into the mix.

May nodded, a few tears slipping from her eyes; “Yes. It seems a bit selfish, given how much everypony has suffered, but I just want to know that they're safe. If I could know for sure, I would have something to carry hope for. Those damn Zebras killed every other ounce of it I had.”

I added a foreleg to the wing I had over May's shoulder, drawing her into a hug. “Don't worry,” I said, again trying to comfort her, though with less than stellar conviction. “Equestria isn't going to stay like this. It may take a while, but we'll get back on our hooves.”

“I sure hope you're right,” sighed May.

***

May and I continued through the suburb of Fetlock, the skyline of the Manehattan metropolis looming up in front of us. The massive skyscrapers that comprised the city jutted into the air like great black bones. As we drew closer, corpses were replaced by skeletons, and eventually by piles of ash, incinerated down to the bone by the heat and sickly green flames of the balefire bomb. After the megaspell went off, the city was reduced to a shadow of its former self, blackened with the ash of countless cremated citizens. It also made May's Pipbuck click wildly at the radiation that had settled over the city.

Before going any further, May's horn lit up as she cast her reddish radiation shield around us. Almost immediately, the clicking in her Pipbuck died down, although it never completely silenced. We each drank another RadAway potion as a precaution, and May requested that I keep conversation to a minimum to avoid losing focus. I understood; not wanting to get cooked further by the radiation, but I did not enjoy the idea of a silent trip through the spooky ruins of a blasted city.

Thankfully, May didn't either, turning on her Pipbuck's radio at a low volume. We came into the tail end of that same song by Sweetie Belle. Turntable's selection of songs consisted of a dozen at most, and we had heard all of them at least a dozen times over on the trip here. However, Turntable always seemed to find bits of news to place between songs.

“That was Sweetie Belle once again. Sorry if it's starting to get old, but it's the best I can do. Now then, I've got a bit of news for you. I've been hearing rumours of ghosts here in the Manehattan ruins. Pony souls who have not yet realized they died in the blast, wandering the ruined city and trying to go about their former lives. Naturally, that notion is ridiculous, but there's something stirring down here that isn't.”

“A few witness accounts claim that zombie ponies have been spotted on the outskirts of Manehattan. They have the shape of ponies, but look like shambling corpses. Hairless, flesh rotten and vacant looking, these ponies really do seem like zombies from an old horror flick. Now then, what are they really? Ponies suffering from extreme radiation poisoning? Mutants?”

“Both,” sneered May. Her voice seemed a bit more gravelly than it had before, like she had a sore throat. I let out a soft chuckle, then continued listening to Turntable.

“Perhaps they're the result of some plague the Zebras have set upon us along with the megaspells. Or, and this one I doubt personally, maybe they really are undead ponies risen from the grave to take revenge for their untimely deaths in the wake of the megaspell holocaust. Now then, while these ponies may look like monsters, none of my witnesses have reported any incidents of flesh or brain eating. That said, they could still be dangerous if they're radioactive or diseased. I recommend caution, but let's not get trigger happy here. This land has seen enough of that to last an eternity.”

Turntable moved on to another topic, but it was far less interesting than his commentary on the so called 'zombies'. “Do you think he's talking about us?” I raised a hoof to my throat after I spoke. I also seemed to have some roughness affecting my voice.

“He could be,” replied May, not saying anything about my voice, “but I doubt it. He said there were witnesses, but we haven't encountered anypony living since Blinkie Pie. More likely, I think there might be others suffering from this...” May paused, unsure of what to call our condition.

“Affliction,” I offered, wanting to keep the conversation, and our movement into the city, going.

“I suppose that'll do for now.” May pressed a contemplative hoof to her chin. “If there are others going through this, then I should see about coming up with a treatment. I thought it would only be temporary when it was just hair loss, but this...”

“Perhaps you can look into it at the MAS hub,” I suggested. “Surely they have research... stuff there.” I wasn't exactly sure what 'stuff' consisted of, but at least May got the point.

***

Walking through Manehattan was like traversing an urban maze. If May hadn't known the way, I would have gotten lost, having only even travelled through the city by air before. It was made all the worse by the fact that where once there would have been a thriving community of metropolitan ponies, there were now countless piles of ash. Small green fires still burned in a number of places. It didn't help that creaking metal and collapsing timbres made me jump, fearing that the weakened structures might collapse on us.

Even with May's warding spell, the further we went into the city, the more intense the radiation grew. My companion looked uncertain, as though she was regretting deciding to come out here. The glow from her horn would periodically intensify, trying to keep up with the rising radiation levels. It was a losing battle, and I feared that if we didn't reach the Ministry of Magic hub soon, we might end up joining the ash that billowed about the city. In a worst case scenario I might be able to fly out, but I wasn't sure I trusted my wilted wings to carry May along with me.

It seemed some small miracle that we managed to make our way deep enough into the city to reach the MAS hub. As we approached the monolithic building, I could see that it had not weathered the megaspell blast so well as I had presumed from the radio broadcasts. The side of the building facing the centre of the city, where the megaspell had detonated, was scorched black and sagging dangerously. I could just barely see the tip of a radio transmitter sticking out from the building's roof.

My lazy eye rolled down, catching several glints of brass beneath a layer of black ash. Looking up, I saw the name of the building on the front, although a number of the letters had fallen free. I suspected that was the source of the brass beneath my hooves.

M-nis--y -f A-can- Sc-en-e

Near the half demolished sign I could see that the tracks of a monorail running into a docking station built onto the side of the building. A few stories up from the track I could see a balcony, the railing of which was warped and half torn away. What was surprising was that there was a pair of ponies standing on it.

There were two of them, each wearing a bright yellow radiation suit with pink bands around the forelegs and a butterfly emblem on the flank. The suits were surrounded by a soft yellow glow. Between the two of them, a large rifle sat mounted to the remaining part of the railing.

“Well I'll be,” muttered May, drawing my gaze. She looked to be sweating from the strain of maintaining the radiation ward around the two of us. “Those are Ministry of Peace HAZ-MAT and Radiation suits. They've got built in radiation ward talismans. It's kinda making me jealous.”

I smiled anxiously. “Maybe they'll lend you one.”

“Maybe,” said May cynically, “but once we get inside and decontaminated, I'm not going anywhere for a while. I'm on the verge of burning out my magic.”

I thoroughly agreed. I hadn't just spent the past few hours maintaining a magical barrier, but I could tell the toll it was taking on May. I wanted her to get all the rest she needed and more. Sadly, it wasn't meant to be. My lazy eye rolled up of its own accord, landing on the balcony once more. It was just in time to see the barrel of the large rifle was now pointed straight at the two of us. A single shot rang out, echoing across the empty city.

Not having time to think, I rammed into May, shoving her away from the line of fire. Startled by the sudden push, May's horn flickered and died, the radiation ward around us vanishing in an instant. I didn't have much time to register the loss of our protection as the shot tore through my right thigh. A gaping hole was made right below my flank, searing with agony. May and I crashed roughly into an overturned metal cart. I screamed a terrible, inequine scream.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Staus: Complete Ghoulification.

Status Effect: Your ghoulish appearance causes most ponies to view and think of you as a monster. Your charisma is permanently reduced by three. However, your ghoulish physiology comes with a few unique benefits. Your perception, endurance and luck are permanently increased by one. As well, you can last without food or water much longer than regular ponies, and the benefits and duration of chems are reduced by half.

WARNING! As a ghoul, your lucidity will now be monitored. If your lucidity drops below safe levels, you run the risk of turning feral.

Chapter 4: Misconceptions

Chapter 4: Misconceptions

“There are no zombie ponies.”

Pain!

I thought I had experienced pain after the Cloudsdale megaspell backwash and my sky wagon crash. I was wrong. I had never been shot before, and I had not expected it to hurt as much as it had. Figures that the first time it happens would be with the biggest rifle I had yet seen. I imagine the inequine wail of pain I made could be heard from Manehattan to Canterlot. It was cut short by May grabbing me jarringly to force a healing potion down my throat.

We only had a mouthful of healing potions, but May reached into her packs and pulled out another one. She didn't bother trying to reactivate her radiation ward, more concerned about the gaping hole in my leg. Before she could administer it though, she stopped short, looking at the hole punched by the powerful shot. It was being knit together by the magic of the potion abnormally quickly. As well, there seemed to be a faint green glow coming from the wound.

Despite the apparent rapidity of the wound's regeneration, May still made me drink the additional healing potion. I had no objections, although the pain had subsided before I finished drinking the second potion. I was glad for it though; I did not envy anypony who got shot through the leg without one available, especially if they were going to get shot at more.

“What the hell are they doing?” I panted. I tried to stand, but my shot leg was wobbly and gave out under me. Taking a glance at it, I saw that the flesh around the wound was stained darkly with my blood. At least I still bled like a normal pony.

“I don't know,” answered May, looking more than a little aggravated. “We walk up to the tower nice and peaceful, and their first response is to shoot at us?!”

“I'm just glad I spotted them,” I muttered, again trying and failing to stand. “That shot was probably lined up with one of our heads.”

“Considering mine was glowing, it probably made for a better target.” May had still not reactivated her radiation ward, presumably not wanting the light to lead the sniper to us.

As odd as it seemed, the lack of radiation ward seemed to have no real effect on us. Although the radiation detector in May's Pipbuck was practically screaming at us, I felt no different. Perhaps being irradiated before had granted us some kind of resilience. I wasn't complaining yet, but I also didn't want to be proven fatally wrong.

“Now what do we do?” I asked hurriedly. Whatever it was we were going to do, I wanted to do it before the intense radiation here made our condition any worse, if that were possible.

“Well,” pondered May, “they're not shooting at us any more, so it's possible we just spooked them. That being the case, we should try talking to them. I didn't come all this way to get turned away by superstitious snipers.”

“How do you plan on talking to them though?” I asked. I might have been able to fly up to the balcony for a chat, but wouldn't get close if they took another shot.

Before I could mention as much to May, her horn lit up as she cleared her throat. She then belted out a call to the ponies on the balcony in a magically amplified voice. “Ministry of Arcane Science Security Ponies! This is Mayflower Cure, Ministry of Peace Spell Researcher and Medic, requesting that you hold your fire! Authorization Sparkle-Alpha-Dash, Two-Two-Seven.”

My ears were ringing for a few moments after May's outburst. I wouldn't be surprised if everypony in the tower had heard that. It was somewhat reminiscent of Princess Luna's Royal Canterlot Voice, as demonstrated on Nightmare Night more than thirty years prior. I smiled, remembering the night fondly. However, this was not the time or place for nostalgia.

There was a long pause, with both May and I holding our breath. “Come out where we can see you!” The voice came from the tower. It was loud enough to hear at this range, but quite unlike May's magically amplified shout. “Slowly!”

I gave May a weak smile. I was glad that she had managed to say something convincing, but I still didn't like the circumstances we were under. Even if we approached cautiously, the ponies on the balcony still had a powerful rifle, and there was really nothing preventing them from taking another shot. They had completely ignored the 'reasonable caution' part of Turntable's report, even if we did look like zombies.

May seemed to share my concerns, but she was determined to get into the tower. Before moving out from behind the tipped over cart, May's horn lit up again. We were again enveloped in a hemispherical barrier, this one the sickly green colour of a shield instead of the rosy radiation ward. It also served to keep some of the radiation away from us, but not much.

Slowly, May and I walked out from behind the cart. My gait was still hobbled by the shot to my leg, so I leaned into May for support. I could have used my wings to take the weight off of it, but I imagined the sudden flapping might spook the ponies on the balcony into sudden shooting.

As we moved into view of the balcony, I forced both of my eyes to focus on the two ponies up there. They kept the rifle trained on us, but were thankfully not shooting. Yet. We continued until we were standing on top of the fallen brass letters.

May turned her gaze up towards the HAZ-MAT ponies, dropping the shield around us to once again magically project her voice. “Ponies of the Ministry of Arcane Science! We come bearing news and aid! We seek an audience with Turntable and a chance to rest.”

The two ponies looked at each other, presumably talking to each other about May's declarations. Then, the one not pointing the rifle at us levitated a megaphone in front of the mouthpiece of his radiation suit. “You can go right on back where you came from. We're not about to let a pair of zombies in here. Now get lost before my buddy gets shooty again.”

“I am afraid that you have some serious misconceptions about my friend and I,” insisted May, her magically amplified voice dwarfing the simple megaphone. “We are not zombies. The affliction we suffer from is a result of intense magical radiation exposure. We are not contagious, and we are not going to eat your brains. The very notion is ridiculous.”

“Mutants, zombies, ghouls, revenants, I don't care what you call yourself,” declared the pony with the megaphone. “You're not getting in here. We have enough problems as it is without a pair of monstrosities mucking about the place.”

“We are not monsters either,” roared May, her tone losing its former civility. “We have come here to help!”

The balcony pony snickered derisively. “You want to help? That's rich.” The megaphone wielder exchanged glances with the sniper, then turned back to us. “Fine then, here's how you can help us. We got plenty of water in here thanks to a couple talismans, but our food and medicine reserves are nearly depleted. You bring us some food and medicine, then maybe we'll talk.”

Without waiting for a further response, the pony wielding the rifle took a warning shot at us. It impacted the ground a few inches from us, throwing a puff of ash into the air. May and I both gagged on the ash, making the roughness in our throats even worse. We trotted away from the tower before the sniper got the idea to take another, more accurate shot.

***

“Can you believe them?” fumed May. The two of us had put the MAS tower behind us half an hour ago, and she was still angry about their treatment. “We're the first living ponies they've seen from outside the tower, and they won't even listen to us.”

While I had not been expecting the warmest reception at the tower (the fact that I got shot notwithstanding), that they would turn us away entirely was insulting. I would have been satisfied to just give them our news regarding Canterlot and leave, but they hadn't even let us do that. As well, the task they set for us was a fool's errand; any food in the city would have been vaporized as readily as any living creatures.

However; “Actually, yes,” I said, answering May's question. She stopped and looked at me quizzically. I pointed to my lazy eye, which rolled down as if on cue. “I'm no stranger to being judged by my appearance.”

“This is totally different,” protested May. “The megaspell holocaust was nine days ago. This is no time for that kind of discrimination. If they didn't have a rifle pointed at us, I'd have pulled them down from that balcony for a stern lecture.”

I shook my head. “Ponies like that are always the same. It doesn't matter what's going on around them, they'll always find a way to make themselves feel better compared to others. Fluttershy taught me that the only way to deal with ponies like that is to not listen to them.”

May suddenly stopped trotting and fell to her haunches. She turned and looked at me like she'd seen a ghost. “You... knew Fluttershy?”

I stopped as well, looking back to May. Was it really so shocking? “Yes,” I replied, not sure how else to respond. “I've actually met all of the Ministry Mares, back when they lived in Ponyville.” I had never really given it too much thought; before the war, they all had pretty normal lives.

May still managed to look amazed. “I ran into Fluttershy a few times, but she was always too busy or timid to converse with. I also remember seeing her when she was on her modelling tour; long before this awful war even started.”

“I remember that,” I remarked. “That was around the time when Sparkle~Cola first hit the market. I bet it wouldn't have done half as well without her face slapped on it.”

May chuckled (that's a first), then smiled at me. “Can you tell me anything else about Fluttershy? Or any of them for that matter.”

I pressed a hoof to my chin. “I don't really have much to tell, at least not on a personal level. I was never really in their close circle, I just delivered the mail. The time I mentioned with Fluttershy was actually a bit of a fluke. Apparently she had been looking for opportunities to practice being assertive, and tried to tell off a couple of bullies making fun of my eye. It didn't work that well, so we just left them and had a brief chat.”

May let out a snorting laugh at that; “Fluttershy? Assertive? That's just like saying Twilight Sparkle was tardy with something.”

I smirked at May knowingly. I then proceeded to tell her about the 'Ms. Smartypants' incident, wherein I had ended up grappling with the former Mayor of Ponyville over an enchanted rag doll because Twilight Sparkle was late in sending a friendship report to Princess Celestia. By the time I was finished, May was rolling on the ash strewn street in laughter. The laughter was tainted with that same hoarse tinge, but it was still a nicer sound than any I'd heard since the megaspells went off. I couldn't help but join in.

“Oh Celestia's mercy,” cried May, wiping a tear away from her eye. She had finally stopped laughing after a good five minutes. “I don't suppose you've got more stories like that?”

“A few,” I replied. However, there was something more pressing I wanted to address before I told any more tales of Ponyville. “Before that though, what are we going to do about the MAS hub?”

“We're going to help them of course,” replied May curtly. “Regardless of their poor attitude, those two said that they were low on food and medicine. Right now the MASEBS is one of the most important things left standing in Equestria, and if they all starve to death, everypony who's left loses.”

“Okay, I can appreciate that, but that still leaves the problem of where we're going to get food and medicine.” I knew I was stating the obvious, but I hoped that doing so would prompt May to actually tell me what she had planned, as she often neglected to do.

“Manehattan General Hospital,” stated May solemnly. “It's the Manehattan hub for the Ministry of Peace. Before the blast, it was where I worked. I don't even know if it's still standing, but if it is, it's our best bet for medicine. If we're lucky, which we seem to be, there might be some food too.”

“Is there any chance there are survivors there?” It was a Ministry hub after all, just like the MAS building. Perhaps it had magical defences of its own.

May shook her head; “Doubt it; the hospital is a lot closer to the city centre. Even if we did have defences, they wouldn't have been nearly as effective.”

***

May and I took wandering through the ruins of Manehattan at a moderate pace. A large part of that was so May could get more stories of the Ministry Mares out of me. I didn't mind sharing, although it made me a bit sick to my stomach to recall the 'baked bads' incident. I still wanted a fresh, untainted muffin. May grimaced at that one as well, having apparently suffered from food poisoning once when she was younger.

In between my stories, May would switch the radio in her Pipbuck back on to see if Turntable had any more news. I personally wondered if he might have overheard May's magical shouting, and might have a different opinion of our attempts to help. This time when we tuned in, we were met with the tail end of a song by Sapphire Shores. It was an old favourite of mine, and again seemed strangely appropriate.

“That was Sapphire Shores' “The Sun Can't Hide Forever”. Apparently our cloud walking kin haven't gotten the message about that. Can't really blame them that much; it's an awful mess down here.”

I stopped, listening intently. I hadn't heard much about the other pegasus ponies after the megaspells went off. Raider had theorized about them waiting out the radiation behind the cloud ceiling, but I wondered if Turntable had found out something more specific. Unfortunately, he hadn't, and continued his broadcast.

“Speaking of sunshine though, I've got a ray of hope for anypony out there listening. A message came through earlier today from Stable-Tec! Despite the loss of the national communication network, this little engineer apparently rigged up a direct transmission terminal to terminal from out of the small town of Ponyville. The quality of the message degraded a bit in transit, but the message is clear.”

May and I glanced at each other hopefully. Gizmo had pulled through. Turntable played the recorded message, although it sounded like Gizmo was trying to speak over radio static at maximum volume.

Kzzzt- “Okay, I think it's working now. This is Stable-Tec Junior Engineer Gizmo. It took a while, but I managed to pull some data out of the Stable-Tec network. The Omega-Level Threat Protocols were transmitted successfully, and received by at least eighty-six percent of the finished Stables. As well, I can confirm that Stables One, Two, Eight, Twelve, Fifteen, Twenty-One, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Nine, Thirty-Two through Thirty-Seven, Sixty-Three, Seventy-Eight, Eighty-Nine through Ninety-One, Ninety-Nine and One-Oh-One have all been filled and sealed. I'll see if I can salvage any more data, but for now that's all I've got. Oh and if M-” -kzzt.

Gizmo's voice died away with a loud burst of static. Apparently he hadn't been able to maintain the transmission link. Still, the fact that he had managed to get through at all was a blessing. Even better, Stable Twenty-Nine had been on the list of successfully sealed Stables. May looked more relieved than I'd seen her since... well, ever. Turntable picked up the broadcast again a moment later.

“Wish I could have heard that last bit before the link died, but this is the best news I've gotten since I took up this post. Not only did Stable-Tec get the word out, but we have confirmation that they managed to save quite a few ponies. If anypony out there have family slated for a spot in the listed Stables, take comfort in this news.”

“Better still, this info comes with a spot of my personal appreciation: Stable Twenty-Nine had a spot reserved for my Auntie Scratch. That's right fillies and gentlecolts, DJ P0N-3 lives! To that little Stable-Tec engineer, I give my deepest gratitude. It looks like there may be some hope out there for us after all. Thanks little guy, this next song goes out to you.”

The song that followed was one of the most upbeat songs in Turntable's selection, sung by Pinkie Pie herself. The song was about bringing smiles during troubled times, seeming more fitting now than any other time we had heard it in the past few days. Even though May and I were standing in the middle of the blast torn ruins of Manehattan, surrounded by the ash of countless dead ponies, everything seemed just a little bit better.

We were both disappointed when the song ended, but we pressed on towards Manehattan General Hospital. Gizmo had done his part, and now it was time to do ours. I hoped that we would be able to find what the ponies at the MAS hub needed, for the sake of Turntable and the others that had managed to survive there. Even those two jerk guards.

***

We continued walking towards the hospital as Turntable played a few more songs. I kinda hoped he'd eventually be able to expand his selection, although he wouldn't get the opportunity unless May and I found some supplies. It turned out to be rather fortunate that May and I could withstand the radiation exposure, otherwise they might have all starved to death. Although, even if we weren't strangely resilient, May still would have found a way to help them.

I was distracted from my musings by a soft glowing light that my lazy eye caught off to the side. Turning my good eye towards the light, I saw a Sparkle~Cola vending machine. Or, at least, most of a Sparkle~Cola machine. The front of the machine had been torn off by the megaspell blast, and the half of the machine facing the centre of the city had warped and melted. Despite that, two lines of soda bottles remained intact inside.

I wandered over to the machine, somewhat marvelled by the fact that it was still even mostly intact. I thought for a moment that the light I saw was the machine itself, but it was actually coming from the sodas. While one of the rows of bottles was regular, carrot flavoured cola, the other was the new Sparkle~Cola RAD flavour (It's like a buck to the face, with radishes!), which let off a soft rosy glow.

The crash of my old delivery wagon had cost me the opportunity to try the new beverage, and it sounded like it would be tasty. I plucked two bottles from the machine and turned back towards May. She smirked at me and levitated one of the bottles over to her (the glow of her magic almost perfectly matched the glow from the bottle's radiation). “Y'know the radiation in these things is obviously not healthy. Don't know where they got the idea to put it in from.”

“I don't really think we need to worry about that,” I nickered. Considering the circumstances, I imagined the regular Sparkle~Cola would have been just as irradiated as the RAD. As well, the radiation didn't seem to harm our mutated bodies any further than it already had.

I braced the top of the bottle in my teeth and used my tongue to flip the bottle cap off. I let out a small yelp as the small metal cap nicked my tongue, nearly causing me to drop the bottle. I set the bottle down and spat out the cap. Damn thing could have been used for shrapnel. May nickered at me and pointed to the machine. A bottle opener was attached to the intact side. I facehoofed.

Ignoring May's snickers, I picked up the bottle once again in my teeth. I tilted my head back to take a swig. I sputtered a little, having gulped a bit too much. Even so, it was really good. The soda was warm, although I had expected that, but the radish flavour was still strong. As well... whoa! It really was like a buck to the face. All of a sudden I felt rather invigorated, and more energetic than I had since we left Ponyville. I swiftly downed the rest of the soda, then looked over to May, who was nursing hers much more slowly.

“I'll admit,” she said between sips, “it's got quite a kick to it. I'm just not that fond of radishes.”

“I-” what I was about to say was cut off by a loud belch. Perhaps I shouldn't have drank the soda so quickly.

“How uncouth,” nickered May sarcastically.

I chuckled softly, a bit embarrassed. “I drank it too fast.” Duh.

“Indeed.” May's horn lit up as she floated a few of the bottles of regular Sparkle~Cola over to her. She handed the RAD off to me and opened a regular one for herself. She placed a couple more bottles into her saddlebags as well.

I polished off the soda that May had half finished before grabbing a few more from the machine and slipping them into my bags. Even though food and drink seemed to have less impact than they used to, I still planned to enjoy the little things when I could. I figured I would be riding the buzz from those sodas for a good while.

***

Just as May and I were about to get underway again, the air was split by an ear-rending shriek. Before I could figure out where it had come from, a streak of green and gold shot past us. May and I looked on in awe as a massive bird, regal and majestic, stopped in front of us. It stared down at the two of us, perhaps sizing us up. Licks of sickly green fire fell from its beak, and a massive aura of radiation at least ten times its own size surrounded it.

I was awestruck for a few moments before I realized how odd this was. Every living thing in the city, aside from those in the protection of the MAS tower, should have been incinerated. Had this bird flown in after the blast? Or did it somehow manage to magically survive? The latter, strange as it sounded, seemed to be suggested by the radiation bleeding off the creature.

“Well I'll be,” I heard May mutter from next to me. She tried to let out an impressed whistle, but her decayed lips made it impossible. “A phoenix.”

That was a phoenix?! I'd seen one once before when Princess Celestia brought her pet to a party in Ponyville. However, her phoenix had been a magnificent scarlet and gold (at least after she rejuvenated herself), not the sickly green and pale gold that this creature displayed. It also hadn't been radioactive enough to cause May's Pipbuck to emit a constant wail with no gap between clicks. Could it have been twisted by magical radiation like May and I had been?

May seemed to be fascinated by the mutant phoenix. She took a single step forward and began to speak to it. “Hello th-”

Before she could finish, the massive bird let out another ear-splitting screech and dove towards us, beak open and licked with flame. I shoved May out of its path, crashing into the Sparkle~Cola machine. As it passed over where we had been moments before, it spewed a wide stream of putrid green flame. It was the same colour as the small green fires that still burned around the city. The heat of the fire made me wince, but thankfully neither of us had been hit directly. The sickly phoenix swooped around after its pass, heading back towards us, shrieking angrily.

“Run!” I shouted, trying to get my own hooves to start moving. Thankfully, May didn't hesitate to take my advice.

We bolted away from the building just as the irradiated phoenix blasted fire at us again. The half demolished vending machine glowed bright green, before melting into a puddle of molten metal and glass. A hiss of steam came off the puddle as the remaining Sparkle~Cola evaporated. As well as being large and breathing fire, the bird was fast. It caught up to us quickly, and we had to take a sharp turn down a side street to avoid getting roasted.

“I don't understand,” shouted May as we ran down the new street. “Phoenixes aren't supposed to be this aggressive.”

“Maybe we stumbled into its territory,” I called back. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing that it was following us again after taking a loop around to follow the side street.

“Phoenixes aren't territorial either,” countered May. “Even if they were, we're miles from the Manehattan Gardens. They do tend to be loyal though.”

“Does that really matter right now?!”

As intriguing as this bird might have been to somepony like May, I was more immediately concerned about the fact that it was trying to barbeque us. I really hoped it hadn't mistaken us for carrion meat. We dove across the street as another wave of flame blasted closer to us than I would have liked. This time the rush of flame struck a few exposed steel beams on the corner of a building, the heat warping them. The entire corner of the building gave a metallic squeal as the girders bent, shifting the superstructure above them dangerously.

Despite the speed and power of the creature, it was providing us with a small opening. It slowed itself down when it breathed fire, usually just enough to allow May and I to get out of the way. Not always though, as the next pass made by the creature splashed flame onto my flank, eliciting a pained yelp from me. That same blast singed off most of the strands of hair that had been stubbornly clinging to May's tail.

Despite our ability to evade the bird (for the most part), we were still pretty screwed. I was glad for extra energy I had gotten from the Sparkle~Cola RAD, otherwise we'd have gotten torched by now, but we still had no way to defend ourselves against it. I imagine that Gizmo's gun, augmented though it was, wouldn't do a whole lot of damage to it. That was assuming the bullets didn't just melt from the heat and radiation it was giving off.

If May and I were going to get away from this alive, we would need to lose the phoenix. That was going to be damn near impossible with how fast it was. I briefly considered luring it away, but that was likely to result in me getting torched. As well, there would be nothing stopping it from coming back for May. Even if it worked, May would never let me hear the end of it if I managed to come back at all.

May had her own ideas. She magically removed That Gun from its holster, then dashed back into the street. She fired two shots in the direction of the fire-bird, but they either missed or had no real impact. The noise from the gun seemed to at least startle the creature, making it stop in midair briefly. Taking advantage of the opening, May and I dashed back up the street.

As we passed under the bird, May fired off three more shots. It fluttered back through the air, giving us a chance to pull ahead. Our lead didn't last long; as soon as it realized we weren't shooting anymore, it charged at us once again. May slipped the gun away, not having the time to reload as we ran. We just reached the corner of the main street when another blast of fire flared out behind us.

In a flash of desperate inspiration, I shoved May back onto the main street. The bird's wash of flame struck the already warped metal beams of the building we had passed before, which glowed brightly as they heated further. There was a horrific squeal of abused metal as the weakened beams buckled under the weight of the building they supported. As the building began to tip, the beams that had not been melted groaned and bent from the added pressure.

The building seemed to collapse a lot more slowly than I had anticipated. Rending metal, collapsing timbres, crumbling plaster and shattering glass blended into a cacophony of destruction. Much like the gunfire before, the awful noise spooked the mutant phoenix. It fluttered in confusion, backpedaling through the air away from the falling structure. I wanted to let up a whoop as it decided that getting crushed was not a risk it was willing to take on our account.

Sadly, my revelry was cut short as I realized that the building was going to crush May and I as surely as it would have the phoenix. We had little room to avoid the collapse in the narrow street, and the building was coming down faster and faster as more of the supports at the base were torn loose. Worse still, the building was twisting as it fell, almost as though it wanted to retaliate against me for bringing about its demise.

Before I could run any further, May grasped me magically and pulled me close to her. She glanced up at the collapsing building, shoving me over a few feet. She then threw up her magical shield around us, her horn glowing brightly. A layer of overglow formed as the shield's thickness and brightness increased. May groaned with the strain of holding the shield as the building landed on us.

May had shoved us into the path of one of the building's windows, the scorched wooden frame of which splintered against her shield. A number of shards of glass shattered around its edges. A few chairs and desks fell from the floor of the building, crashing against our protection and breaking apart. A blown out terminal struck the shield, bouncing almost comically down the side. The rain of debris continued for several heart pounding seconds.

May maintained her barrier spell for a full minute, allowing any remaining debris from the building to fall to the ground. The building darkened a bit when she dropped the shield, its glow providing almost as much light as the weak sunlight that penetrated from the far side of the building (now facing skyward). May was panting roughly, but at least we had survived.

May turned on me, jabbing a hoof into my breast. “Don't you ever! Do that! Again!” She prodded her hoof into my chest with each word for emphasis.

I wasn't about to object.

***

Reluctantly, May allowed me to fly her up through the collapsed building in order to get free of it. It was a tricky flight with my wings in such poor shape, but I managed to pull it off. When we emerged, the sickly phoenix was nowhere to be seen. I was thankful, since it meant I wouldn't need to bring down any more buildings. May and I walked along the upturned side of the building until we reached the edge, jumping back down onto the street.

Now that it was no longer a threat, I found myself more curious about the irradiated phoenix that had attacked us. “Where do you think it came from?” I asked.

May seemed to be thinking about it as well, but she also had some prior knowledge. “The Manehattan Gardens,” she answered with certainty. “A large number of exotic and rare creatures were housed there, including a few phoenixes.”

“Wouldn't they have been killed by the megaspell?” Everything else had been.

“Yes, but remember that phoenixes have their own exceptional properties.” I did remember that, as I had seen Celestia's pet burst into flames and then reform from the ashes. “Either by their own rebirth process or external sources, fire won't keep a phoenix down.”

That made a certain amount of sense; balefire was still fire, sort of. “Okay, but what about the rest of it? Fire breathing, radiation fields and aggression are not in that same book of tricks.”

May shrugged; she didn't seem to have any answers on that front. “My best guess is that the combination of balefire and magical radiation twisted the phoenix while it was still a pile of ash. Or it could have gotten its ashes mixed up with something else during the rebirth process. It might have been interesting to study if I'd had the chance.”

I found myself feeling rather disappointed at May's statement. It was bad enough that the megaspells had killed so many ponies. Now their aftereffects were twisting up everything that was left standing. I was all the more glad about Gizmo's revelation that the Stables had been successfully sealed, even if he had yet to confirm all of them. At least somepony would be able to live their lives away from this horror.

In the meantime, it was up to those of us left on the surface to look out for each other, even if not everypony was willing to play nice. The rest of our trip through the city was mercifully uneventful, and we arrived at Manehattan General late in the afternoon. Unfortunately, there wasn't much left of it.

While the building appeared to have survived the blast intact, a skyscraper across the street had not been so fortunate. The tower had fallen directly on top of the MoP hub, crushing half the building underneath it. From there, the former hospital had collapsed in on itself from the fourth floor upwards, the upper levels pulverized by the wreckage of the fallen building. That left us with half of the lower three floors to scavenge for supplies; less than a fifth of the building.

Mercifully, the remnants of the building were sturdy enough to remain standing, and did not look to be in danger of further collapse. I had more than enough experience with demolition for the day. The main entrance to the hospital had collapsed, forcing May and I to enter the building through an adjacent window. Surprisingly, the pane of glass was still mostly intact, though covered with spiderweb cracks. May levitated a chunk of debris, using it to break the glass and let us through.

The interior of the hospital was surprisingly well preserved, from what I could see. However, the interior was dim, the lights having all burnt out, shattered or died from a lack of power. May's horn ignited with magical light, bringing the hospital's interior into focus. We let out a joint scream at what we saw.

The former Ministry of Peace hub was filled with corpses. Directly in front of us were two charred unicorn bodies in equally burnt pink and yellow uniform dresses. Only a few feet away, an earth pony patient sat dead in a half melted wheelchair. She was a gruesome sight, as her eyes had burst right out of their sockets. Apparently there had been defenses around this building, although they had only served to make the death of the ponies inside more horrid.

For the first time in a while, the smell of death reached my nose. All through our travels I had grown used to the smell of my own rotten flesh, but the scent of so much of it contained in one place, much of it burnt, struck me hard. The scent of medicine and disinfectant mixed in didn't help. I turned on the spot, stuck my head out the now glassless window and vomited onto the ashen pavement. The Sparkle~Cola RAD was much worse coming up than it had been going down.

May managed to stay a little more composed than I did. Which just meant that she was able to hold off vomiting herself until I was finished. When she was through, she returned to the two dead nurses in front of us. She pecked at their dresses with a hoof, turning over their name tags. One of them was too scorched to read, but the other had 'Buttercup' printed on it. May slumped onto her haunches. Somepony she knew, I presumed.

“It's kind of funny,” May said, a few tears escaping from her eyes. “The day before the blast, I was scheduled for the overnight shift. I asked Buttercup to cover for me because I was having migraines, and I was going to take her shift the following morning. I had been on my way into the city when the megaspell went off.”

I marvelled at that. It seemed that, like me, her reason for being on the edge of a megaspell blast was as much a fluke as my own had been. Much like the pegasus behind me that had burned to death, somepony had been killed in May's place. Was it coincidence? Or had we been specifically selected for the curse of bearing witness to the destruction of Equestria?

“Should we bury her?” I asked, sensing that this friend had been a close one. Very close, I would later learn.

May stood back up and shook her head; “Let's go, we've got ponies that are still alive to consider. If we stopped to see to everypony that was already dead, we'd be at it forever.”

I nodded, but my heart went out to May. At least the ponies elsewhere in the city had been cremated, and not just left to rot where they fell. “Where should we start?”

“As luck would have it,” said May, deliberately looking away from Buttercup's corpse, “my office and lab are on the third floor. I kept a few supplies in there, and my master key should be there too. Once we have that, we'll be able to open every medical box left in the building, assuming any of them are locked. Once we've got the meds, we can see if there's anything edible left in the cafeteria. Each floor has a safe as well, although those were mainly used to keep hard copies of patient records.”

***

May knew the building's layout, so I allowed her to lead the way. We walked around the outermost hall of the ground floor, taking care not to disturb any of the dead ponies. Some of them were burnt worse than others, with a hoofful having burned down to their skeletons. We reached the stairwell, which was thankfully intact. Next to it was an elevator that had clearly been in transit when the building was destroyed. The doors had been slammed open by the impact of the carriage, which lay crumpled just below the frame. The snapped cable lay coiled on top of the heap.

“Gizmo still probably could have fixed it,” nickered May. I gave a weak smile.

The stairs were sturdy enough to hold both of us, although raining debris from above had punched a few holes in the staircase. When we reached the third floor, we discovered that the stairs above had collapsed entirely, blocking any further ascent. Part of the floor above had come with them, and we had to squeeze under it to get through to the hallway. More rubble blocked one branch of the hall, but May proceeded down the other path. Although the ceiling groaned, the debris had settled enough that we could avoid further collapse so long as we didn't start bucking the walls down.

At the end of the hall (or at least, the middle of the hall before the other half of the building had been crushed), was May's office. The door lay splayed off its hinges, and the window was shattered. May nudged it aside, causing it to fall right out of the frame. She shrugged and proceeded inside. It was furnished with a desk, several cabinets, a pink and yellow metal box marked with a butterfly and a small lab setup in one corner.

May glanced at the small chemistry set contemplatively. “I suppose a quick look couldn't hurt.”

Without stopping to explain, May walked over to the lab table. She magically pulled a microscope towards her, as well as a pair of tweezers and some glass plates. Using the tweezers, she plucked a piece of her rotten skin from one of her forelegs. She placed it carefully between the glass plates, then slipped it beneath the lens of the microscope.

I watched silently as she twiddled the knobs on the microscope for a few minutes, occasionally murmuring 'I see' and 'hmm'. She looked up from the microscope and let out a sigh, turning back to face me. “Nothing I hadn't really guessed already,” she claimed. I could only assume she was talking about our condition. “Obviously a mutation caused by the extreme radiation exposure, but I'd need better equipment to delve into it further.”

“Maybe the MAS ponies will be so happy we brought them supplies that they'll let you use theirs,” I suggested a bit dubiously. May still gave a small smile in return.

She left the microscope where it was and moved over to her desk. She pulled open a few drawers, levitating their contents out and into her saddlebags. Two healing potions, a bottle of pills, three inhalers and a few syringes. She pulled out a key hanging on a chain, which she hung around her neck. Lastly, she pulled out a coin sack, shaking it gingerly. She looked like she was about to abandon it, but shrugged and slipped it into her bags as well.

“Do you plan on bribing the MAS ponies if all else fails?” I asked wryly.

“Not unless they take bottle caps,” replied May with a bemused snort. “I collected them as a hobby in what little spare time I had. I figured it wouldn't hurt to hang on to them for a bit of sentiment.”

I nodded, smiling slightly. May moved over to the medical box and opened it, pulling out four more healing potions, a couple packets of RadAway, and a few more syringes. We left her office and proceeded through each room left intact on the third floor, retrieving what we could from the medical boxes contained within them. We repeated the process for the patient rooms on the second floor. May stopped in each room for a moment to pull the blankets over the head of anypony who had died in their bed. If they had been asleep when the bomb went off, it would have been a small mercy.

***

By the time we returned to the ground floor, May's packs were loaded with plenty of medical supplies, including some braces, ointments, and a large quantity of magic laced bandages. That still left the problem of food. Thankfully, the cafeteria had also been spared by the collapse, and was largely free of corpses. This probably owed to the fact that the bomb had gone off after breakfast hours had finished. There were a number of fridges and pantries that, despite their charred exteriors, were ripe for the picking.

Before I could enter the cafeteria kitchen though, May held a hoof out in front of me. “There's something alive in here,” she said, glancing at what appeared to be a large, walk-in cooler. She was staring at it rather intently, even though the door was shut tight.

“How can there be something alive?” I demanded, perhaps a bit louder than I should have considering there might be something hostile nearby.

“There might not be,” said May. She held her Pipbuck up to me. “This thing has a feature that can detect nearby lifeforms and determine if they're hostile or not. However, I'm not sure it's working properly.”

“Why's that?”

“It should have been able to pick up anything living from further away than this,” noted May. She let out an angry sigh; there was more. “Also, the health monitor on this thing hasn't been registering my vitals since a few days ago. It seems to think I'm deceased.”

That was strange. “Maybe the mutation is confusing it,” I suggested, though May probably already had a better idea of her own.

“Maybe,” said May, just going along with what I said for now.

Leaving the topic alone, she stepped cautiously towards the large cooler. From a few feet away she pulled the door open with her magic, allowing the light from her horn to cast inside. From where I was standing, I could see another corpse within the large fridge, apparently having been sealed inside when the megaspell detonated. It looked strangely rotten for a corpse that had been preserved in a cooler.

May and I jumped back a full yard when the corpse shifted, rising to its hooves slowly. It was a zombie pony! Wait, I checked myself, not a zombie. Somepony like May and I, mutated by the radiation but not killed by the exposure. Perhaps being in the fridge at the time of the blast had provided that little bit of extra protection. The not-a-zombie shambled towards us slowly, its gait stiffened by the lingering cold of the fridge.

May stepped forward, raising a hoof towards the other pony. “Are you alright?” She asked.

The pony did not respond, simply continuing to trot slowly towards us. It raised its- no, his head slightly, staring vacantly at the two of us. He stopped, looking back and forth between the two of us, his tongue slipping out of his muzzle. A low, unintelligible gurgling noise escaped from his throat. Despite being in the same physical condition as May and me, this pony seemed to be lacking in mental wellness. Had he perhaps suffered brain damage from the lack of fresh air?

Before we could explore the possibility of helping this poor buck, he let out an inequine growl before breaking into a charge towards us. He was still slowed by his stiff limbs, giving May and I a chance to duck out of the way easily. The mutated buck, unable to turn swiftly, collided headlong with a pantry just behind where we had been standing, breaking the doors off when he collided with it. He staggered backwards, bits of broken wood stabbing into his face.

The collision with the pantry did not seem to phase the zombie pony, as it turned back towards us, slavering mindlessly. May pulled That Gun out of its holster and pointed it at him. “Stay right where you are,” she ordered. “I don't want to have to use this.”

The zombie paid her no heed and charged at her again. May grimaced, and I heard a clicking sound coming from the gun. “Shit!” she called, rolling out of the way of the charging buck. She had never reloaded the weapon.

May's horn lit up, pulling open one of the pouches on the holster's bandolier and removing a cylinder of fresh bullets from it. The chamber of the gun sprung open, forcibly ejecting the empty casings from within. Before May could slip the new ammunition in, the zombie buck pounced on her, causing her magic to falter, dropping gun and bullets alike. She let out a high pitched scream of pain as he bit into her shoulder savagely. Dark blood oozed from the wound, mixing with foam from his mouth.

I had to act quickly or the zombie stallion would tear May's leg clean off. I ran up to him from behind, intending to pry him loose, but was met with a strong rear hoof kick. The forced of the kick threw me against a nearby counter, knocking a cutting board and knife to the floor with a clatter. I rubbed the back of my head gingerly, already feeling a lump forming. I spat out a tooth that the kick had knocked loose.

A pained whinny from May jerked my attention back to the zombie trying to make a snack out of her. Acting instinctively, I grabbed the handle of the knife that had fallen to the floor in my teeth. Its blade was still fairly sharp. I jumped into the air, gliding above the reach of the buck's hind hooves. I dropped onto him from directly above, the impact wrenching his teeth free of May's shoulder. Without hesitating I drove the knife in my mouth straight into the top of his head. It penetrated his skull with sickening ease, and a squishy crunching noise signaled the end of zombie buck.

The buck screamed awfully and thrashed, bucking me off of its back. I landed roughly near the same counter, watching as the buck collapsed into a twitching heap, falling still after a few moments. What I had done barely registered as I flew over to May's side, propping her up against a nearby cabinet. The wound in her shoulder was ugly, and I quickly dove into her saddlebags for a healing potion. At least we weren't short on them this time.

May's shoulder began to knit itself back together as the healing potion took effect. The same faint green glow that had been around my gunshot wound could be seen, supplementing the potion's magic. May grunted as the potion finished its work, then gingerly got back upright. She winced as she moved her shoulder, pulling the hoof off the floor to keep her weight off of it. Her horn glowed and she rolled her shoulder, mending the sprain cause by the zombie's initial pounce.

Once she was finished tending to herself, May glance at the now lifeless corpse of the buck that had tried to eat her. “Did you...” she began, stopping without looking for confirmation.

At her words, I too began to stare at the cadaver. I had killed somepony. A strange sensation washed over me. I had kept myself away from the war specifically because I didn't want to hurt anyone, but now I had done just that. Not even an enemy of Equestria, I had just killed a fellow pony! True, he was savage, voracious and probably deranged, but he had still been either a Ministry of Peace employee or a patient. I shuddered coldly, and had to seat myself to catch my breath. I hadn't realized that I had been panting so harshly.

May walked up to the buck, his dead eyes staring blankly at her. She magically removed the knife from his skull, then closed his eyelids. She bowed her head over him, then turned to face me. “Thank you,” she said. I wasn't sure I wanted to be thanked for that. “I'm sure he was suffering, and there wasn't anything I could have done for him under the circumstances.” That didn't make me feel too much better. “Now, let's see what we can find.”

I was glad to move on to opening the cupboards, pantries and fridges, taking my mind away from the dead zombie buck. I didn't want to start thinking about who he had been or how he had gotten trapped in the fridge. I wanted to focus on what we had come here for, and the still living ponies who were counting on us.

***

The cafeteria yielded an excellent amount of canned, boxed and otherwise preserved food, enough to last the ponies in the MAS building a good while so long as they rationed it. Unfortunately, it was all tainted with magical radiation, and made May's Pipbuck click alarmingly. Over the week and a half since the megaspell detonation, the radiation had settled into the unprotected building, bleeding into the food. The contents of the cooler were slightly better, having been sealed away, but not by much.

Thankfully, it seemed that the Ministry of Peace had been prepared for such a possibility. May produced a talisman that she had found on the second floor, which she claimed could be used to purge small amounts of magical radiation. According to her, it contained the same spell that formed the basis of RadAway potions. Considering the amount of food we had gathered, we would only be able to purge the stockpile once.

This opened up several new problems. As soon as the purging spell was finished, the radiation would start to seep into the food again. With the radiation as concentrated as it was, it wouldn't take all that long. On top of that, transporting the food back to the Ministry of Arcane Science hub would be a daunting task. May's telekinesis was sufficient to lift about half of what we had gathered at a time, but would leave it unshielded against the radiation. Maintaining her radiation ward and telekinesis together would cut the mass she could carry to one quarter of what she could have before.

This effectively meant that we would have to make eight trips through the streets of Mnaehattan. Not only would that take a ridiculous amount of time, but there were still threats that could derail us further, such as that mutant, balefire breathing phoenix. Not only that, but the food we left behind on each trip would start absorbing radiation again. I wasn't sure I trusted the stability of the building either.

“Too bad we don't have a wagon,” muttered May, staring at the food we had gathered.

I groaned, falling to my haunches. I winced as I sat on the part of my leg that had been shot. Wait... that was it! “I think we might have something that'll work.” I reminded her about the overturned cart we had ducked behind when the guard ponies had shot at us.

“That could work,” remarked May with a smile. “How do you plan on getting it here though?” I smirked coyly and fluttered my featherless wings at her. “Oh yeah.”

***

Before heading back to pick up the cart, I helped May move the supplies out onto the street. I didn't want them being lost if the building should choose to collapse while I was gone. We piled them neatly in the middle of the street, then I turned and took off. I flew up, relishing the chance to be back in the air. It helped that I knew the city much better from above, and would be able to get to the cart and back quickly.

As I passed over May, my lazy eye rolled downwards, catching a last glimpse of her. She was levitating something out of her saddlebags and bringing it to her mouth. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like one of the inhalers she had taken from her office. She took a deep breath with the canister in her mouth. I presumed it was some sort of aerosol asthma medication. Did she think it would help with the roughness of our throats? Making a note to ask her about it when I got back, I flew off towards the MAS hub.

I managed to reach the tower after only ten minutes. Air was really the only way to travel, though I wished I could convince May of that. I circled around the building, avoiding the balcony where the guards had been, and set down beneath the monorail track on the far side. From there, I trotted over to the overturned cart. It took a bit of straining, but I managed to get it back upright.

I moved around to the front of the cart, intending to strap myself in. Unfortunately, the harness was in tatters, half of it burnt off. I wasn't about to let something like that stop me though. Using the straps of my own saddlebags and a bit of patchwork, I was able to fashion something that would hold together well enough to pull the cart. Hopefully it would also be able to take the added weight of May and the food; I didn't really have anything better at my disposal.

I pulled the cart along the ground to test the harness first. It was a bit tricky, as one of the wheels was missing, causing the axle to scrape the ground noisily. Still, the makeshift harness held up, and the missing wheel wouldn't be a problem in the air. Once I had passed back under the monorail, I took off, putting the tower behind me.

It took me a little longer to get back to the hospital with the cart dragging behind me, but I did so without incident. I landed in the street, coming to a stop in front of May, who was laying in the middle of the road next to the pile of food. She had a strange, spaced out look about her; her pupils were dilated and she wore an awkward smile. She barely seemed to notice I had returned.

“Lookie what I found,” I announced jovially.

May blinked, then shook her head, her attention focusing back on me. “Nice work,” she said, sounding a little weary. Her voice still sounded coarse, so apparently the inhaler hadn't helped, answering my question before I had to ask it.

I smiled at her, then nodded towards the pile of food. “Mind putting those onto the cart? I'd have to take this jury-rigged harness apart to get out right now.”

“Sure thing.”

May's horn lit up as she magically lifted the boxes and cans onto the cart a few stacks at a time. Once she had them all loaded, she climbed onto the cart herself, and produced the radiation purging talisman. I looked back and watched as the talisman lit up, prompted by May. The pile of food glowed with a soft green light that seeped off of it and into the talisman. When the process was finished, the talisman sparked and died, causing May to sigh and toss it aside.

Immediately after discarding the talisman, May cast her magical radiation ward around the cart in its entirety. The clicking noise of her Pipbuck quieted as the radiation was repelled. Without further delay, I began to pull against the harness of the cart, not wanting to keep the ponies of the MAS hub waiting any longer. We were in the air less than a minute later, May's concentration on the ward thankfully keeping her from complaining.

***

We reached the MAS hub for the final time early in the evening. I deliberately hauled the cart out in front of the tower to show the two guards what we had brought for them, only to not see them. Instead, there was only one guard, and he looked to be a bit smaller than the two who had been there during the day. He aimed the rifle at us just as they had, but at least he didn't start shooting right away. From this close I could see his face clearly through the domed helmet of his HAZ-MAT suit. He looked confused.

“Hey there,” I called out to him. “Special delivery for the ponies of the MAS Manehattan hub.”

The young buck gawked at me. Apparently the preceding guards had not bothered to inform him that they had sent us to find food and medical supplies. I set the cart down by the main entrance, keeping both my eyes fixed on the guard just in case. I detached myself from the harness, then flew back up to the balcony. The younger guard seemed a bit startled when I landed next to him, but more than a little curious.

“You're one of those zombie ponies Turntable was talking about,” stated the colt bluntly.

I facehoofed. “We need a new title,” I muttered, not wanting to associate myself with the cannibalistic buck that I had actually labelled a zombie in my own mind. “That's not important right now though; we've got food and medicine for you here at the hub. The guards that were up here earlier said you were in need of them.”

The HAZ-MAT colt looked at me like I was crazy. “Um... I think they might have been just trying to get rid of you.” What. “This place was actually designed to be a failsafe megaspell shelter; we've got food enough to last a good long while.” Seeing the growing look of irritation on my face, he quickly added: “Not that your gift is unwelcome. In fact, we are in need of a fair amount of medicine. Even though we patched the holes in our magical defences, there's still a few ponies suffering from radiation poisoning. Not to mention those that were injured when parts of the tower were damaged. Plus, that food will make the rationing less arduous.”

I was only slightly relieved, and a bit miffed at the two jerk guards for sending us on a wild gryphon chase. “Well, I'm glad this wasn't a complete waste. Now then, my companion and I are in need of rest. We also have some news to give to Turntable about Canterlot, and a few other settlements.”

The guard grimaced. “I... don't think I can allow that.” He held up a foreleg equipped with a Pipbuck built into the suit, which went clickety-click as he waved it over me. “With the amount of radiation you're giving off, I'm surprised you're not glowing. Our decontamination facility isn't sufficient to clean you up enough to safely enter the tower. If we let you in, everypony else here might be at risk.”

I felt like there was a vice around my heart. I did not regret gathering the supplies, but I ached inside from the idea that my presence might be a health hazard to other ponies. I looked sternly at the guard colt, although my eye wandered again, making it look a little comical. “Alright, but can I trust you to relay our information to Turntable? It's really important.”

The colt nodded; “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do.”

After relaying the information we had for Turntable to the young guard, I returned to May with instructions from him. I pulled the cart, which May was still keeping shielded from outside radiation, around to the rear of the building, where a loading dock was occupied by a slew of large, battered wagons. I shoved the cart into an empty bay, and was surprised to see the two guards from earlier coming out in their HAZ-MAT suits to take the food and medicine inside. They seemed just as surprised that we had delivered it in the first place.

May kept a small smattering of the medical supplies for our own use, just in case we had any more strange encounters on the way back to Ponyville. As well, I kept a bit of the food for us, but not much, considering that we seemed able to go longer without it. I hoped that we would be able to purge the excess radiation we had absorbed by the time we got back to Ponyville, otherwise we wouldn't be able to stay there.

***

May and I spent the night in an empty building across the street from the MAS hub. The ordeals of the day had left us fatigued, and made the sleep I got far more wonderful than it had been since the megaspells. I was relieved that my sleep came without nightmares for the first time in a week and a half. May was less fortunate, as memories of the mangled, corpse filled hospital had filled her night with terrors. I thought I heard her cry out Buttercup's name once or twice.

We awoke early the following morning and, following a small breakfast, proceeded to depart from Manehattan. We took the trip slowly, not wanting to over exert ourselves after the previous days events. Thankfully, the city seemed willing to let us go without incident. Better still, once we were outside the city limits, the radiation therein no longer saturating us, the radiation levels of our own bodies began to slowly bleed off.

As we passed through Fetlock, May smiled softly, knowing thanks to Gizmo that somewhere out there her brother and nephew were safe inside Stable Twenty-Nine. She switched on Turntable's broadcast, wanting to make sure our news had gotten through as well.

“Good morning everypony, I hope you all slept well. Now put on your listening ears, because I've got some more news for you. Remember how yesterday I was talking about those zombie ponies that had been spotted in the vicinity of Manehattan? Well it turns out that not only are they not crazed, diseased or undead, they're also quite generous.”

I winced, remembering the actual zombie pony from the hospital. Hopefully he was a unique case.

“A pair of these ponies braved the Manehattan ruins yesterday to gather food and medical supplies, which they graciously donated to those of us here at the MAS hub. Along with those supplies, they had some news from outside the city. Now, unfortunately things get a little heart-breaking here. Those two came all the way from Ponyville, where they got a glimpse of our former capital city of Canterlot. Sadly, a particularly nasty Zebra megaspell wiped out the city. There is a bit of hope though, as our little Stable-Tec engineer friend yesterday told us that Stable One, which is located in Canterlot, was among those successfully sealed. My prayers go out to the Princesses; for whom the Stable was primarily intended.”

“Since I don't want to leave you on a sour note, I've got one last piece of news, also thanks to those not-zombie-ponies. As I mentioned, they came here from Ponyville, which they claim is largely intact, and very empty due to most of its population being relocated to a nearby Stable. If you can make the trip and need some place to stay that's not glowing with radiation, it would be worth your while to head that way. As well, the small outlying settlement of Appleloosa has been confirmed as a relatively safe haven by some other sources. It seems that small towns are the place to be right now, and that's the truth of the matter.”

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Ghoul, moderately irradiated
Lucidity: High

Bonus Perk Added: Like a Buck to the Face! (Rank 1) – You really like Sparkle~Cola RAD! As well, the trance amounts of radiation contained within are beneficial to your ghoulish physiology. In addition to the regular effects, the consumption of Sparkle~Cola RAD grants a temporary +1 to Agility.

Interlude 1: Birth of the Wasteland

Interlude 1: Birth of the Wasteland

Time.

Time takes a long time to go through, and sometimes even longer to talk about. If I were to fill you in on every single detail of my two hundred years in the wasteland, you'd be as old as I am by the time you finished reading it, provided you lived that long. Since I'd like to focus on the important stuff, I'm going to abridge a few parts of the story. Don't worry though, I'm only going to gloss over the things that are too long, boring, or unimportant to worry yourselves about.

After we finished our excursion to Manehattan, May and I returned to Ponyville. May's intent was to tend to any refugee survivors that might head there after hearing Turntable's announcement. As for me, Ponyville was the closest thing I had to a home after the destruction of Cloudsdale and the closing of the sky. Going above the cloud ceiling didn't strike me as a good idea; my kin up above wouldn't know what a ghoul was, and would more than likely shoot me on sight.

Not that I minded so much; I had a couple new friends to pass the time with. When we got back to Ponyville, May and I found that Gizmo had moved on. Raider told us that his forced communication with the MASEBS had crashed the Stable-Tec terminal beyond even his ability to repair. Gizmo had left with the intention of finding a Stable-Tec facility with better equipment, hoping to confirm as much as he could about the Stables. He had evidently built himself a new custom firearm from the parts at Ironshod before departing, leaving That Gun to May.

We stayed in Ponyville for the first year after the apocalypse, May holding out hope for more survivors to come. We stayed in the loft above Sugar Cube Corner, and I finally got to bake some fresh muffins. Sadly, only about a dozen other ponies ever came to stay. A few others passed through, while some came only to try and get into the Stable beneath Sweet Apple Acres. One group tried to force their way into the shelter, and had to be forcibly discouraged by Raider. The former warrant officer ended up starting a relationship with one of the mares who came to take refuge in the small town.

A few months after the apocalypse, we faced the first winter of the wasteland. Without the pegasi managing the weather, it was wild, fierce, and unrelenting. Being a pegasus myself, I was able to alleviate some of the difficulties, but it was still beyond rough. It was also drawn out longer than any winter I had previously experienced, its end hampered by the weakened sunlight and megaspell fallout. It didn’t help that the snow itself was radioactive. Everypony aside from May and I was confined inside their homes, and we had to make frequent runs to distribute RadAway. An elderly earth pony that May had rescued on the first day of the wasteland did not survive the season. A few times I thought I could hear noise coming from up at Sweet Apple Acres, but didn’t want to leave town long enough to investiage.

Turntable continued to bring the news and music to the wasteland, taking up his aunt's title of DJ P0N-3. There wasn't really much for him to talk about though, since much of Equestria was dead quiet in the wake of the holocaust and subsequent winter. There was the occasional report about a skirmish over dwindling safe places to live or food sources, but they were few and far between. Sadly, this was because the ponies left on the surface were also few and far between.

The best news to come from Turntable's broadcast was shortly after the end of winter. Gizmo had apparently made his way to the former Stable-Tec headquarters in Fillydelphia, where he had accessed their central maneframe. According to what he found, ninety-six of the one hundred and one Stables built by Stable-Tec had successfully sealed, and an estimated eighty-five thousand ponies had been saved inside them. We neither saw nor heard about Gizmo again after that, leading us to believe that the radiation from the megaspell that destroyed Fillydelphia had taken his life in exchange for getting the word out about the Stables. We took comfort in the nobility of his sacrifice.

After a full year passed, May grew restless. It had become clear that nopony else would be coming out to the small town in search of refuge, so she decided to set out and help anypony she could find. I decided to go along with her, not wanting her to have to face the wasteland alone. Raider stayed behind to look after Ponyville. He and Honeydew, the mare he had been taken with, promised to keep the town alive as a haven for survivors.

For the next few years after that, May and I went in search of other small settlements of survivors and refugees. We found a few dozen scattered across the Equestria Wasteland, although most had populations under twenty. Most shot at us on sight, forcing us to flee without being able to help. But there were a few who were more willing to accept us ghouls. Between May's medical skills and my knowledge of weather management (which was admittedly not the greatest, but still better than nothing), we managed to ensure the survival of several small pockets of ponies.

Days turned into years, and then into decades as May and I wandered the wasteland. Most of those we encountered were other ghouls like us. Many of them were feral, like the buck who had been trapped in the Mantehattan Hospital's cafeteria cooler. This eventually lead to May's decision to study, and hopefully someday cure, the ghoul affliction. At the very least, she wanted to find a way to stop the mental degradation that led to ghouls turning feral.

In the meantime, that condition allowed us access to certain regions that other, non-mutated ponies could not reach. Any time we came across an intact (or even mostly intact) MoP or MAS facility, May used whatever equipment was available to further her studies. Progress on the ghoul front was excruciatingly slow, although she did discover the mutation that slowed our ageing process. After forty years, I was beginning to wonder why I hadn't keeled over yet.

A trip to the Pie rock farm that same year revealed that Blinkie Pie had passed away. We buried her out in the fields, and prayed that she would be reunited with her lost family. The farm, unlike most of Equestria, was still relatively safe, and the well out back was deep enough that the radiation had yet to poison it. Eventually, some other family would come and make it their home.

The next big leg of our journey began when May decided to branch out from her studies on the ghoul mutations. She started studying the long term effects radiation was having on the flora and fauna of Equestria. After several generations, the animal species of Equestria had either died out, or began to take on the forms that they currently hold. Two particularly tenacious species were cattle (the predecessors of brahmin, but with only one head) and swine.

May wanted to see how radiation was changing things in Equestria, but I would soon learn that the effects of time can be far more ravaging.

Chapter 5: Legacies

Chapter 5: Legacies

“And his father before him, and his father before him...”

Farming.

Before Equestria's industrial revolution, farming was one of the most time consuming, yet necessary, components of everyday life. When spring came around, entire communities had to put everything else on hold to wrap up winter and set up their local farmlands for the coming year. Not only did they have to grow enough food for their community for the coming year, but they also had to make sure they had sufficient stores to last through the following winter.

That all changed when the technological age began. Revolutions in both arcane science and earth pony technology allowed much smaller groups to provide much larger yields, and improved processes made farming much less time consuming. However, there were still farmers. Now, in the wake of the apocalypse, there are no more farmers. Fresh crops are all but unheard of, and most of the food available dates back to before the holocaust. Ponies even took to eating meat, which would have been unthinkable under less desperate circumstances.

However, the shadow of the farms of old still lingers. Ponies herded cattle to produce milk, sheep for wool, and pigs for the finding of rare plants, such as truffles. While I hadn't seen a sheep or pig in years, May and I finally happened across a herd of cattle outside of Ponyville, which we had not been in the vicinity of in decades. However, these were not the cows that either of us had known from before the war.

These creatures were the descendants of the cows of old, twisted over several generations by magical radiation in their food and water. Their hides, formerly mottled white, brown and black fur, were now red and leathery, toughened and thickened against the harsh environment of the Equestrian Wasteland. As well, their udders were massively engrossed, nearly dragging against the ground. And that was just their outsides.

May had approached the herd of mutated cattle with the intention of studying the effects that radiation had on them in detail. We were both rather surprised to learn that these cattle, despite their mutations, remained sentient. They were quite polite, but before they were willing to give May some samples to study, they wanted our help. We were talking with them while they were holed up in an old barn.

“It's nice to see some decent pony folk,” said the lead cow, who went by the name of Mooriel. “Too often when ponies come by, all they want is to pop off a few of us for meat or hide.”

“We've had our fair share of hardship from other ponies as well,” I replied. Ghouls were not very well received in most parts of the Wasteland. It was hard to blame them; May and I had encountered plenty of mad, cannibalistic zombie ponies, and they far outnumbered the ghouls that were still sane.

“That's too bad deary,” chimed in an elderly cow named Agatha. “You seem like such nice girls. You just had the bad luck of being twisted up by those nasty Zebra magics. I remember when I was a calf, my ma thought I was sickly because of the way we look now.”

“That changed when more and more of us were born like this,” added Mooriel. “Now there's none of the old cows left.”

“That's part of why I'm interested in you,” noted May. “Many animals didn't survive even a single generation of radiation exposure. You not only survived, but adapted marvellously to the harshness of the post-war environment, and are, relatively speaking, thriving. I hope to find out the ways in which the magical fallout has affected the living creatures, how they've adapted, and possibly how to reverse some of the more permanent malignant effects.”

When she mentioned 'permanent malignant effects', I knew full well that May was referring to ourselves. The existence of ghouls was still one of the greatest mysteries of the Wasteland, and she meant to solve it. She never mentioned it aloud, but she feared that we might some day suffer the same fate as the zombie ponies who lost their minds and became flesh eating monsters. Seeing the cattle gave her hope, since their mutations were entirely beneficial, at least from a survival perspective.

“Well, maybe we can help each other then,” intoned Mooriel. “You girls have been out there in the wild and seem to know a thing or two.”

“I guess you could say that.” True that May and I had been travelling through the Wasteland for forty years now, but we had spent most of that time running from a variety of threats. Still, I wasn't about to mention that if it could help May's research.

“What is it you need?” asked May. She would probably want to help them even if there was nothing to be gained from it.

“Well, you no doubt saw our... 'friends', out front when you came by.” Mooriel was referring to the three cattle corpses that lay in the grazing pen outside the barn. They had been gored savagely, their bodies torn apart. One of them had been a calf.

“Poor dears,” moaned Agatha. “Nasty beasties charged right through the fence and tore them up something fierce.”

“Beasties?” asked May. She looked at me, but I shrugged. There were plenty of things we had met that could be considered 'beasties'.

“These really nasty, bloated things,” elaborated Mooriel. “Kinda look like pigs, but bigger. Huge, nasty tusks.”

May nodded, then her horn lit up. She floated out a journal and a pencil, opening the book to a fresh page. She jotted down the description, then looked back to Mooriel. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“We never used to have problems with them.” Mooriel pointed a cloven hoof out a nearby window, the glass shattered long ago. “They usually kept to themselves over in that field east of here, only attackin' things what strayed into their turf. This is the first time they've ever lashed out. We really don't want there to be a second.”

May continued to scribble in her journal. She had been keeping a few different ones for her notes on ghoul ponies, wildlife and plants respectively. I glanced over her shoulder, although I gained little from attempting to read her notes. Her penmanship was nearly illegible, almost looking like code. If I ever took up writing, I would make sure to print more clearly. The only thing I could really make out was a diagram she had drawn, predicting what the mutated pig things looked like.

***

May's depiction of the mutated swine, while not a bad estimation, failed to truly capture the ugliness of the creatures. The radiation had been far more cruel to them than to the cattle. They were bloated and grotesque, with odd growths forming occasionally out of their flesh. Their tusks were horribly elongated, and looked strong enough to punch through steel. Their hides were a sickly off-pink colour that reminded me a little of our own decrepit flesh.

May and I lay crouched on a hill overlooking the field where the 'radhogs' (May was intelligent, but not the most creative pony I'd ever met) were located. She was levitating a pair of binoculars in front of her eyes, and her journal lay open on her left. She periodically set the binoculars down to scribble something, then resumed her observation. At present, the radhogs were butting heads with each other fiercely, the clashing of their tusks audible from this far away.

I waited quietly as May made her observations. After a few minutes, she levitated the journal and pencil beck into her saddlebags. “How are we gonna deal with them?” I asked.

“Well, they haven't noticed us yet,” mused May. She glanced to her shoulder where Gizmo's gun was holstered. Between its modifications and the targeting spell of her Pipbuck, she had become an excellent shot over the years.

I, on the other hoof, had neither a weapon nor a Pipbuck. I had tried using both mouth held weapons and battle saddles in the past, both to a rather futile effect. My lazy eye made aiming damn near impossible, and I wasn't about to fire wildly on the off chance I'd hit May or anypony else I wasn't intending to. For the most part, I had fallen back into my old role of carrying stuff from place to place. Being a pack pony wasn't much different from being a courier.

“Unfortunately,” she added, giving a stomp of her Pipbuck hoof, “they're too far away for S.A.T.S. To lock on properly. I'm rubbish without it.”

“Is there anything else we could do?” I wasn't sure I wanted to start a fight. May and I were down to our last two healing potions, and we hadn't been anywhere friendly to resupply in some time.

“Maybe, if we could figure out what has them riled up in the first place.” May looked over the field, this time glancing beyond the edges of the pasture where the radhogs were. She gave a soft stomp of her Pipbuck equipped hoof, focusing intently on something I couldn't see.

Thankfully, I knew what she was doing, as she had explained it to me shortly after the incident in the Manehattan General Hospital. The Eyes-Forward-Sparkle feature of her Pipbuck allowed her to see other creatures (or, as we had encountered a few times, robots) that might not be in her normal field of vision. It could also determine whether or not the creatures it detected were hostile. How it did all that I have no idea, but I trusted May on it. The only thing it had trouble with was other ghouls, as it seemed to have a hard time recognizing them as 'living' creatures.

According to May, all of the radhogs were registering as hostile, even though they weren't actively attacking us. I watched May as she began to stare intently at a point beyond the field on the opposite side from us. She proclaimed that two non-hostile marks had appeared, and were slowly approaching the radhogs. They had come from the direction of Ponyville.

May was about to pick up her binoculars for a better look when a gunshot rang out, followed closely by another. Remembering all the times we had been shot at before, I swiftly grabbed May and pulled her below the crest of the hill. Mercifully, I neither heard nor felt the impact of a bullet. Whoever had fired had not been aiming at us. As I slowly began to get back on my hooves, I felt the ground begin to rumble beneath them.

“They're coming right for us!” shouted May, springing to her hooves. I didn't bother asking who 'they' meant.

I gave a hard flap of my wings, thrusting myself into the air. I slipped my fore hooves beneath May's shoulders and lifted her up. I had gotten used to hoisting things with my featherless wings, but it still required a great deal of effort. I missed the luxury of hauling wagons that were magically lightened with spark engines. I managed to pull May up just as a small stampede of the pig creatures raced underneath us. The smell drifting up from them was awful.

I held May aloft as the radhogs charged beneath us. From the higher altitude, I could make out the field they had previously occupied more clearly. Two ponies were approaching the carcass of a dead radhog, the apparent target of the shots fired earlier. At least one of them was a unicorn, as there was a rifle floating along side the pair. Odds were that these same ponies were responsible for riling up the beasts before, resulting in their attack on the cattle.

My attention was torn from the pair of ponies as my grasp on May's shoulders slipped. I caught her quickly, but dipped lower in the attempt. May's hind hooves brushed the back of one of the radhogs, eliciting a panicked squeal from the creature. It broke away from the stampede and began swerving back towards us. It was promptly followed by two more that turned back towards us, snarling fiercely.

The strain of holding May up was becoming unbearable, and I had to set her back down on the ground. I immediately dropped down next to her, intending to start running. The radhogs weren't all that fast. May had her own ideas, telekinetically drawing That Gun out of its holster. Perhaps she wanted to autopsy one of the creatures for her research.

As the radhogs bore down on us, May slipped into her Pipbuck's targeting spell. It was always fascinating to watch as she seemed to zone out, every ounce of her perception taken in by the spell. The gun floating in front of her moved ever so slightly, adjusting its angle in keeping with the spell's intense precision. The small gem on the back glowed dimly. Two cracks came from the gun as May fired a pair of shots at the first pig creature. It went down hard, rolling to a stop a few feet from where it dropped.

The other two radhogs continued, blinded to the danger by either anger or confusion. May sent three more shots into the next pig, the rapid sequence of shots causing its head to practically explode. The gun was now empty, but May had learned from her previous misfires. She dropped the targeting spell, quickly pulling another ammo cylinder out of the bandoleer, ejecting the old bullet cases as she brought the new ones up to the gun. Even after forty years, Gizmo's modifications made reloading quick and easy.

The pig was nearly on top of us as May brought the gun forward again. At this range she would be hard pressed to miss, even with her targeting spell down. She pointed the gun right at the beast's snarling maw and then... nothing. There was a pained sounding twang and a hollow click as May pulled the trigger. The gun had jammed!

May had no time to make another move as the radhog smashed into her. One of its tusks carved a brutal gash along her side as the impact sent her reeling. Dark, viscous blood oozed out of the wound, staining the beast's tusk.

The beast tossed May aside like a rag doll, landing roughly a few feet away. It turned towards me, snarling viciously. I was not about to be killed by a pig; I'd survived worse encounters. I turned away from the creature, as though I was going to run, but then reared up on my front legs, driving both of my hind hooves into the snout of the radhog. I was rewarded with a sickening crack and the creature's nose broke under my blow. Despite the apparent ferocity of the mutated pigs, they were rather squishy on the inside.

The blow knocked the radhog back, blood flowing from its broken snout. With the opening provided, I took to the air, flying directly above the creature. Hurt and confused, it staggered around and began to thrash blindly. I dove straight down towards it, holding my forelegs straight on in front of me. I threw my full weight into the creature, which when coupled with the force of the dive, was enough to crush the skull of the pig. It collapsed beneath me, blood spurting from its mangled head and staining the flesh around my hooves.

Ignoring the splattered radhog, I flew over to May as quickly as I could. She was still oozing blood from the sickening gash, and her breathing was shallow. I threw open her saddlebags and retrieved our last healing potions. I nudged May with my muzzle until she was laying on her back, then proceeded to pour the healing potions down her throat. May gagged, causing some of the precious healing fluid to spill, but she swallowed most of it.

The gash was bad enough that the healing potions were not enough to fully close it. Thankfully, it was enough for May to regain consciousness, at which point she began to treat herself. She cleaned the wound with some irradiated water. On a normal pony she would never have done such a thing, but our radiation immunity allowed us to conserve purified water for others. She wrapped her midsection with bandages, tying them tightly around the wound.

“Thanks,” said May, addressing me as she retrieved That Gun, tossed aside when the pig flung her. The revolver didn't suffer any additional damage, but it had never failed her before.

“What happened?” I asked, looking at the gun held in May's telekinetic grasp. It didn't look broken.

“I'm not sure,” muttered May, opening the chamber and expecting it. “I don't know too much about guns beyond how to shoot one. Gizmo could probably tell us if he were still around.”

I sighed. That wasn't going to do us any good. However, there was still another option. The ponies that had attacked the radhogs had evidently come from Ponyville, which meant that the town was still inhabited. If we were lucky, somepony there might remember or even recognize us, and be able to offer some assistance. At the very least, we had to talk to them about the plight of the cattle.

***

“Oh dear,” said Mooriel, looking at the bandages wrapped around May's middle. “Are you holding up alright?”

May and I had returned to the cattle's barn to tell them what we had seen. The stampede of radhogs had trampled what remained of the fence around the outside, but they had avoided the barn, sparing the rest of the mutated cows within. Most of them seemed surprised that we were even alive after the stampede. Mooriel admitted that she felt bad for asking us to put ourselves in harms way on their account, and had agreed to allow May the chance to perform her study of them.

“I've had worse,” stated May, shrugging off the remark. “Besides, how many times have we been shot now Ditzy?”

“Lost count,” I replied. More than half the time May and I encountered other survivors, we had been shot at, some occurrences more accurate than others. The ones that didn't shoot were usually other ghouls, and most of them tried to eat us instead.

“Well, the important thing is that you're alive,” stated Mooriel. “We appreciate you looking into the matter for us, but what will you do now?”

“We're heading to Ponyville,” stated May firmly. “Ditzy and I need to resupply. Plus, they're the ones responsible for riling up the radhogs, and we need to ask them to stop.”

“Oh dear,” cut in Agatha, “you can't seriously be thinking of going to Ponyville.” Her tone was frantic; worried.

“Why not?” I asked incredulously. The way Agatha spoke of the town, it was as though it was hazardous. Granted, many places where normal ponies resided were hazardous for ghouls anyways.

“The ponies down there ain't a friendly lot,” warned Agatha. “That there's a raider town now.”

My ears perked up. Raider? I looked over to May, who seemed to have noticed the same as I had. It had been nearly forty years since we had seen Raider, and we didn't even know if he was still alive. If he was, then going to Ponyville wouldn't be a problem at all. He had a reputation of defending the town fiercely, but May and I shouldn't have any difficulties, not being bandits or the like.

“We know Raider,” I claimed, smiling at the cows. They looked dubious. “He may be rough on the outside, but he really is just looking out for the best interest of the ponies in his care. Frankly, I'm surprised he's still alive after all this time. He'd be almost as old as I am.”

The cows still looked sceptical. “Can't say I agree with you,” muttered Mooriel, “but I can't really stop you either. Just make sure you take care of yourselves.”

May and I promised to be careful, although the thought of seeing Raider again gave me a fair bit of confidence. With Blinkie Pie dead and Gizmo gone, the number of ponies that I knew was rapidly diminishing. Even worse, I knew that I was doomed to outlive anypony who wasn't a ghoul, unless I got killed by something in the wasteland. I did not relish either possibility. In the end, May would probably be my last and only friend.

Shaking away the morbid thoughts, I watched curiously as May waved her horn over the mutated cattle. She frequently stopped to jot things down in her journal, then resumed her analysis just as quickly. I smiled as I watched her, and she smiled as she worked. Learning about the way radiation had twisted the land might normally have been a grim subject, but to May it was a chance to discover. She held on to the hope that a cure for ghouls could eventually be found, and I admittedly hoped she was right.

***

“It's actually pretty amazing,” stated May as the pair of us walked towards Ponyville. She was filling me in on what she had discovered about the mutated cattle. “Their insides have effectively been doubled in order to resist the more malignant effects of radiation. Eight stomachs to better digest irradiated food, four kidneys and two livers to break down the extra toxins, and an extra heart to keep blood flowing to the other additional organs.”

I chuckled, “If only we were so lucky.”

“Maybe not,” muttered May. “From what I could tell, the mitosis of their mutated cells was still ongoing. In another couple generations they might end up with multiples of their exterior appendages. They might even sprout another head!”

I grimaced. I knew I certainly wouldn't want to have two heads. “Nothing like that is gonna happen to us... right?”

May shook her head, providing me with a bit of relief. “Our cells absorbed a huge dose of radiation all at once, and only huge concentrations of radiation have any additional impact. The cattle's exposure was gradual, which is why the effects are still ongoing.”

I nodded. My attention was pulled away from out conversation as the sound of water reached my ears. They perked up, as the sound was not what it should have been. May and I had reached the river that ran adjacent to Ponyville, but it could hardly be called that anymore. Instead of flowing water, the river was filled with thick, sludgy muck. It made the sound of a slobbering dog as it sloughed past the supports of a nearby bridge.

I felt like I wanted to be sick. May's concern about the river's source turning foul had been grotesquely accurate. I really hoped nopony was drinking from it anymore. May pushed me to ignore it, and began moving towards the bridge. I followed, holding my breath against the smell coming off the stream. As we crossed the bridge, Ponyville came into view. It had not weathered the past four decades well, and I couldn't see anypony around.

From where we were, the town looked like it was falling apart. Apparently there hadn't been a skilled repairpony in the town since Gizmo's departure. Many of the buildings looked in danger of collapse, and I could see one that already had. I recognized it as a flower shop that had been the former home of a pony named Daisy. I found myself wondering if she had made it into Stable Two. If she had, was she still around? She would be as old as me if she were.

My musings came to an abrupt end as May and I reached the far side of a bridge. Although I didn't see where it came from, I saw the glint of metal as something flew towards us. It was shaped like an apple, and landed inches away from us. I had done enough deliveries for the Ministry of Technology to know it was a grenade. The stem had been pulled.

Without hesitation, I tackled May to the ground, shielding her from the explosive. I then kicked blindly at it with my hind legs, trying to send it away from us. I felt a hoof connect with the grenade, which skidded away along the ground for about half a second before detonating. The boom was close enough to be nearly deafening. I screamed as bits of jagged metal embedded themselves in my legs, flanks and back. By some small miracle my wings were spared. I collapsed limply on top of May, who had covered her head with her forehooves, in which I could see a few more bits of charred shrapnel.

My ears were ringing from the sound of the blast. It was a small mercy that I had managed to kick the grenade away, otherwise I might not be attached to my ears to hear it. As it was, I couldn't get up. Between the disorientation and the shrapnel tearing up the rear half of my body, I felt like I was going to pass out. If I did though, it would leave May pinned and helpless against whoever had attacked us in the first place. Sadly, I could not even summon the strength to move.

I felt May squirm beneath my limp body, trying to get out from under me. I could no longer feel my hind legs, and May was not strong enough to shift my dead weight. I felt an odd tingling sensation as May wrapped me in a field of magical levitation. I was hoisted up a few inches, allowing her to drag herself free. I was set back down gently, and I suspected May was moving to inspect my injuries. I couldn't turn my head well enough to see.

Instead, I found my lazy eye rolling about on its own again. It came to a stop when it was met with a pair of barrels pointed directly at my head. “Hurry up and blast it,” I heard somepony shout over the droning noise in my ears. “I ain't fixin' to be snacked on today.”

“Wait!” shrieked May from somewhere out of sight. The pony holding the gun did not wait, and I closed my eyes against the incoming shot.

Ka-blam!

I completely lost my hearing as the shot was fired. I was surprised however, to find that I had not lost my head along with it. Opening my eyes and forcing them both to focus together, I saw that the gun had been jerked up and away from my head, the barrels still smoking. The rosy light of May's magic was just fading away from it, though it was still clenched firmly in the mouth of the pony holding it. He looked more than a little confused.

I turned my head ever so slightly, which still managed to hurt a lot, to try and see what was happening, since I couldn't rely on my hearing right now. My lazy eye was at least willing to accommodate this, as it rolled over to land on May. She was apparently yelling at the ponies who had attacked us. There were three of them in all, two earth ponies and a unicorn. The earth pony with the double barrelled shotgun was reloading, while the other two had weapons pointed at May. They seemed to be snapping back at her.

May gestured at me with a hoof, then with herself. She then began flailing her hooves about a bit more wildly, and looked as though she was extremely pissed. Probably trying to explain that we weren't zombie ponies. The way the other two were keeping their weapons trained on her, I wasn't sure they cared. I was worried that they might start shooting; at that range, May wouldn't stand a chance.

I watched as the unicorn pony barked something at her, then gestured menacingly with the gun he was levitating. May lowered her head in what appeared to be a sigh. She levitated her saddlebags off of her back and set them down in front of the unicorn. She also removed That Gun along with its holster and bandolier. She plucked a roll of magic laced bandages from one of the bags, then walked over to me as the unicorn began sifting through the contents.

May passed out of my line of sight, but I soon figured out where she went. I felt twinges of pain as she plucked bits of shrapnel out of my legs, flanks and back, wrapping each wound with bandages as she went. Since I couldn't watch her work, I glared at the unicorn who had turned her saddlebags over, dumping the contents onto the ground in front of them. He seemed to be sorting what he dubbed valuable or not.

“Anything good Skeeter?” I heard the earth pony ask, having slung his gun over his back. I glanced sideways, glimpsing May's horn next to my ear, glowing softly. She moved around to restore hearing to the other one.

“The gun is nice,” replied the unicorn, “but I think its busted. She doesn't really have much else. Oh, scratch that, looks like she's got some dash. Sweet, half a dozen tubes.” Upon hearing this mention, the other earth pony perked up. He looked like he was almost salivating.

My mended ear perked; dash? I know I had heard that somewhere before, but my befuddled brain wasn't able to draw on anything coherently right now. I glanced at May, but she was focusing on fixing my ear. I would have to ask her about it later.

Glancing up from the pilfered loot, the unicorn named Skeeter glowered at May. “You're lucky we didn't blow your brains out. Take that thing and get lost before I change my mind.”

May however, simply glared back. “I told you, we came here to see Raider, and we're not leaving until we do.”

I was tempted to object; we weren't really in a position to be making demands like that. As much as I had wanted to see Raider, I was beginning to doubt that he had any influence anymore. May had originally asked him to keep charge of the town, but these ponies were definitely not being subjected to any discipline.

“Raider don't know no zombies,” chortled the earth pony. “Case you din' notice, we blast you zombies soon as we see ya.”

Skeeter's horn glowed as he drew his gun out, cocking it menacingly. “Last chance zombies...”

However, this time he was interrupted by the other earth pony, the one who had nearly blown my head off with the double barrel shotgun. “I say we let 'em see the boss,” he proclaimed.

“The hell are you talking about Booster?” demanded Skeeter.

“Think about it,” he continued, undaunted. “Boss is gonna be steamed we were makin' such a ruckus without letting him in on the fun. Better we have them to let him take it out on than us.”

Skeeter lowered his weapon, placing a contemplative hoof on his chin. He glanced at us, smirking cruelly. “Alright then, follow us. If you get shredded into meat, don't come crying to me.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Despite the warnings of these brutish ponies, I knew that Raider would recognize us. Hopefully after that, May and I could do what we originally came here to do. My hind legs weren't cooperating, so I took to the air, flapping my wings just enough to keep them from dragging behind me.

***

Skeeter, Booster and the other earth pony, apparently named Tweeker, led May and I through Ponyville. Although I knew the town like the back of my hoof, travelling with them would at least ensure that we weren't attacked again. The three of them seemed painfully certain that their 'boss' was going to shoot us full of holes, but I knew better. Once Raider saw us and recognized who we were, he'd be more than willing to help. He might even convince those ruffians to apologize for attacking us in the first place.

Ponyville felt more like a ghost town than ever before, empty shutters rattling in the fierce wind that was now blowing through the village. The sky was also beginning to darken. Rain was coming, a downpour of huge proportions if I figured right. Thankfully we would be sheltered inside when it hit, although May and I didn't really need to worry much about catching a cold. Oops, spoke too soon; the rain started to fall before we reached our destination. The five of us raced to get out of the brewing storm.

May and I were led to the giant tree near the middle of town that was Ponyville library. I had been here before, although not as frequently as somepony like May might have been. I wasn't about to say anything to that effect though; now wasn't really a good time. Skeeter threw the door open magically and we all dashed inside. Once inside, I was hit immediately by a few things that had no place in a library.

Near the middle of the main room was a collection of large steel drums. There were fires burning inside to provide warmth to the library. I seriously hoped they weren't using books for fuel. On the opposite side of the room was a stockpile of various... stuff. It looked mostly random, although I could see a few potentially valuable items mixed in. When Skeeter took the saddlebags he had taken from May and I over to the pile, it became apparent that the stash was unsorted loot. I grimaced at the idea that these ponies had been stealing from other innocent ponies and passers by. Surely Raider didn't condone banditry.

One wall of bookshelves had been completely emptied of books. A number of them lay on the floor in front of the shelf, which had been restocked with weapons. Several guns were stacked on the shelves along with a couple of ammo containers. There were also a number of melee weapons; a sledgehammer, a shovel that had been sharpened into a spear, a baton. Something was very wrong here, and I let out an audible gulp. I didn't like the look of this at all.

Then I saw him. As my lazy eye rolled upwards, I caught sight of a very familiar looking green coated earth pony. He was standing on a ledge one storey up on the interior, next to a branching balcony. His coat looked oddly glossy for a buck his age, if a little dirty. He wore the same light assault battle saddle I had seen him wearing on the day I met him, along with his protective barding. Why he wore those inside I had no idea.

Wait... something wasn't right. I forced both of my eyes to focus on Raider, trying to gauge him better. It was not easy to put my hoof on it, as the stallion I was staring at was the spitting image of the former warrant officer. However, there were a few differences that made themself evident now that I looked more closely. His mane has a different colour, that of ripe melon, whereas Raider's had been a rusty brown. He also lacked the scar that Raider had on his face, although I could see a few others on his legs. His eyes were cold and fierce, quite unlike Raider's soft determined stare.

Those eyes were glaring right at May and I. He rounded on Booster and Tweeker, almost growling. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” he demanded. “Why the fuck did you bring a pair of zombies in here?! Do you have any idea how much this place is gonna stink now?!”

He punctuated his declaration with a burst of fire from the battle saddle, biting down hard on the bit in front of his mouth. The series of shots tore up the walls near the two earth ponies, both of whom fell to their haunches, terrified. I really hoped he hadn't actually been trying to shoot them. If he had been, then his aim was as lousy as mine. My indignation was interrupted by the odd question of why, when he was obviously mad about the presence of May and I, that he hadn't shot at us first.

Booster and Tweeker seemed too frightened to offer a response, but Skeeter, having not been shot at, was a little more coherent. “We thought you might want the fun of butchering them yourself,” he offered. The Raider look-alike glared at him, nonplussed. Skeeter changed verbal tactics quickly, obviously not wanting to incur his boss's wrath. “They said they know you!”

The green pony cocked an eyebrow. He then looked at us, probably taking in for the first time that we weren't trying to eat anypony, and were minding our manners. He still managed to look cross. “I'm not on speaking terms with any zombies. Can't stand the smell.”

The pony who was clearly not Raider leapt down from the ledge deftly, landing right in front of May and I. I heard his battle saddle reload as he gave it a kick. May however, was not intimidated. “And we're not on speaking terms with a pack of brutes. Now where is Raider?”

The green buck snickered cruelly. “You may not be crazed, but you're not too bright, are you?” He gestured at himself with a hoof. “I AM Raider, and this is my town.”

“Horseshit,” challenged May. She glared at Raider, and he glared back. I was afraid that if I didn't do something soon, he would shoot her full of holes.

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Where are Stronghoof and Honeydew?” My question surprised even me, with both May and the green buck looking at me. May knew the names I had mentioned; Stronghoof was Raider's real name, as opposed to his military title. Honeydew was the mare he had fallen for not long after May and I had returned from Manehattan forty years prior.

I was shocked by the look I was now receiving from the buck who claimed to be Raider. He wore a mix of anger and confusion, and looked like he was torn between the two right down the middle. He spoke slowly, dangerously. “How do you know those names?” His mouth moved, ever so slightly, away from the trigger bit.

I continued, hoping to keep him from taking that bit in his mouth again. “We came here with Raider, Gizmo and a few others forty years ago. I think Honeydew came to the town while May and I were in Manehattan, but we met her when we came back.”

As I stared at the green earth pony, my eye slid away from his gaze, settling on his mane. I only now realized that it was the same melon colour that Honeydew's had been. Raider's eyes widened with realization. “The wall-eyed pegasus...” he muttered, looking at me. He then turned to glance at May; “...and the medical unicorn?”

May and I nodded slowly. It seemed we were not forgotten here after all. However, any hope that this realization would benefit us greatly was dashed when his expression hardened again. “My old man told me about you two. It was your idea to come to this little shithole in the first place.”

For a moment, it looked like he was about to grab the bit of his battle saddle again, but he turned his head to face Tweeker. “Give them their shit back; they're leaving now.”

“But boss,” muttered the earth pony, who seemed to be twitching nervously, “that dash...”

Raider didn't hesitated to round on the shaking pony and bit down on the trigger of his battle saddle. He sent a short burst of fire into Tweeker's leg, yielding a ferocious yelp of pain from him. He fell to the floor, bawling and wailing as Raider turned to face the other two; “I told you to give them their shit back. Anypony else got a problem with that?”

Booster and Skeeter shook their heads furiously before running over to the pile of loot and gathering up our belongings. Raider looked at us sternly; “Don't go thinking this is charity or kindness or any of that horseshit. If it weren't for the two of you, I probably wouldn't be here, and neither would any of the rest of us. This is me paying off a debt my old man left me. Don't think it'll happen again if you come back.”

***

Raider led us through the rest of the town himself, towards the far side from where we had come in. As we walked through the town, I saw a number of places that I had been to the last time May and I had been here. The Ironshod Emporium had been thoroughly looted, probably the source of the weapons I saw in the library and more. The Stable-Tec outlet had been vandalized, apparently the ponies here feeling they had no use for the remaining scraps of arcano-technology. Lastly, Redheart's clinic seemed to be intact. I could see a number of ponies sleeping on the cots contained within.

The ponies, even more than the town itself, were vastly different from what I remembered. Instead of the colourful, lively population of the town before the war, this town was filled with drab, pained looking ponies. Some looked crazy, others looked sick, while the vast majority simply seemed depressed. Not many of them gave us a second look as we were escorted by Raider to the edge of town.

As we passed by the old Carousel Boutique, we were joined by a mare who seemed a little less than sober. She wobbled as trotted over to Raider, and was followed by a small pack of cats. Her coat was a dirty purple colour and her mane was almost radioactively green. Her cutie mark looked like a dead rat. Wait... what?

As the inebriated mare spoke slurred words to Raider, I glanced around at some of the other ponies I could see. In particular, I looked at their cutie marks. One unicorn buck was fiddling with an orange disk with a pulsing light on top, his cutie mark depicting an explosion. A mare further down the street with her mane done up in spikes, and had a pony skull on her flank. I felt sick; what sort of special talents did these ponies have to merit such gruesome cutie marks? More than anything else I had seen in the town, this was just disturbing.

The drunken mare cantered away from Raider, who turned away, though not in disgust, and continued to lead May and I through the town. He came to a stop at the far edge of the village, and turned to face us. “If you want to see my old man, he's at the war memorial. He tends to get shooty around anypony who isn't me, so don't get bitchy if you get shot again.”

With that, Raider turned away from us and went back into the town. My lazy eye followed him as he met back up with the drunken mare, who attempted to pull him into the old boutique with her. I felt sick, and wanted to leave the town as soon as possible. This was no longer the village that had been my home. The strains of time and the aftereffects of the megaspell holocaust had warped it, just like everything else in Equestria.

However, I found myself wondering how it had gotten so bad. While forty years was not a short amount of time, it still seemed like the town should have held together longer than it had, especially with Raider... no, Stronghoof leading them. I looked to May, and she seemed to be thinking the same thing. We both turned to face the Macintosh War Memorial, a short trot from the edge of the town, and made our way over to it.

The Macintosh War Memorial was built in honour of Big Macintosh; Ponyville native, war hero and elder brother of Applejack, mare of the Ministry of Technology. All of this was common knowledge though. Much like the ministry mares themselves, I only knew Big Macintosh in passing, and had never been colloquial with him. Oddly enough, I had been at his funeral after he died taking a bullet meant for Princess Celestia. I had been working for the company that catered the proceedings.

I filled May in on these things while we approached the gazebo that contained the memorial. We stopped short as, once again, a gunshot was fired at us. This time however, it was not aimed right at us. It was a bit of a welcome change frankly; getting shot was never any fun. The shot impacted the dirt a few feet in front of us. Raider had warned us that Stronghoof shot at anypony that came near. I could see him seated inside the gazebo, a rifle mounted to the railing in front of him.

“Haven't you punks got anything better to do than bother a crippled old buck like me?” The voice came from the memorial gazebo. It was rough and aged, but still held a trace of familiarity.

“Rai... Stronghoof,” I said, catching myself before I called him a name that might cause offence. “It's Ditzy Doo and May Cure.”

May and I watched as Stronghoof shifted from his position. With his head moved away from the rifle, I could make out an eye patch over his left eye. He seemed to be straining his good eye to get a look at us. I tilted my head towards the gazebo, then began walking forwards again. May followed along quietly. She actually hadn't said a word since we left Ponyville, even while I had been reminiscing.

As we approached the memorial, the statue of Big Macintosh came into clearer view. He was posed rearing up, sword held in his mouth, dressed in military combat barding. Stronghoof watched us approach with his good eye. He still seemed tense, but eased a bit once he could see us clearly. He moved away from rifle, opening a gate on the gazebo and coming out to join us. He walked with a limp, and when he passed the fence I could see that one of his rear legs was entirely missing, replaced by a large wooden peg, crudely attached. May, ever the medical pony, shuddered at the sight.

Stronghoof hobbled up to us, then sat down. I couldn't blame him; walking with a crude prosthetic like that must be painful. “It's been a while,” he said simply. “Frankly, I'm surprised to see you here. I wasn't sure you were even alive after all this time.”

“I suppose we could say the same,” I admitted. Looking like he did, it was no small miracle that he hadn't keeled over. However, now I could find out the truth. “What happened here?”

***

Before answering my question, Stronghoof stood up and walked around to the far side of the war memorial. He gestured for the two of us to follow him. On the opposite side was a cover for a large underground cistern, but that wasn't where we were headed. Stronghoof led us past them, his peg leg making him wince from the distance he was walking. He stopped in front of a pair of what looked like grave markers.

The markers were made of wood, and planted in the shadow of a long dead tree. Each was engraved with what looked like a cutie mark and a name. The one on the left bore Honeydew's name and the image of a half melon and several slices. The other was marked with a shield. The named engraved above it was 'Aegis'. Stronghoof seated himself in front of the graves, letting out a sigh.

“In the beginning, we tried to do right by you,” started Stronghoof, turning his glace towards May. “We offered food, shelter and what peace of mind we could to anypony who came looking for it. Honeydew and I tried to make this town a haven in the wastes.”

I nodded solemnly, not having anything to say. May was equally silent. Stronghoof continued; “In the years after you left, she bore me two sons. The first was Aegis.” He paused a moment, glancing at the grave on the right. “Raider Junior was the other, three years later. I loved all of them, and for a while I really thought we might be able to leave the horror of the war and wastes behind us.”

“Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.” Stronghoof glowered. “About twenty years ago, a massive group of bandits came through this area. Not only were there a lot of them, they were well armed; probably raided an Ironshod depot. Honeydew tried to talk to them, but their leader was crazed and he killed her without even attempting parlay. After that, the whole town was consumed in the ensuing battle. I lost my leg to a grenade, and my eye to a brawler with spiked ponyshoes. Aegis and the bastard that took Honeydew from us died at each others' hooves.”

“Raider always looked up to his brother, and love Honeydew more than I did,” concluded Stronghoof. “After they died, he wasn't the same pony. He got his cutie mark that day. It appeared when he killed one of the bandits. A gun, simple and clear.” I could see tears forming in Stronghoof's eye. Once again I felt my experience with family painfully inadequate. All I could do was place a hoof around his neck in an awkward hug.

Stronghoof simply hung his head, allowing the tears to fall onto the graves of his wife and son. “I tried to steer him right after that, but in truth I lost both my sons that day. Raider was never the same, and eventually he couldn't stand the sight of me, evicting me from his town. I was just a reminder of everything I'd failed to protect.”

After that, Stronghoof didn't say any more. He lay down in front of the graves and cried silently. May and I were both crying as well, me for the loss of my old home, she for the loss of her haven of hope. We all lay there together under that dead tree, crying as we were drenched by the ceaseless downpour.

***

Eventually our crying stopped, and Stronghoof offered us shelter. He led us back to the cistern by the memorial, wherein he had set up a small living area for himself. May and I needed rest, more for our strains and injuries than for any real need of sleep. Our ghoulish bodies didn't actually require it anymore. He let us sleep on a bunk bed he had set up, resting with just a blanket and pillow on the floor himself.

When I awoke, I saw Stronghoof at a small work station. May didn't seem to be around. I got up, my legs better thanks to a healing potion provided from a small stash Stronghoof had squirreled away. I wandered over to the workbench and looked over Stronghoof's shoulder. He was examining Gizmo's gun, tinkering with it with a few tools.

“Can you fix it?” I asked tentatively. “It's never jammed before yesterday.”

Stronghoof grunted in response. “If it were a standard military firearm, I could probably strip it down and rebuild it in seconds. Unfortunately, That Gun is not standard by any definition. Gizmo's modifications are extensive, and I wouldn't be able to do any work on it without damaging some of them. You'll need somepony better with arcano-tech if you want to fix it.”

I nodded as Stronghoof handed the gun back to me, then slipped it into my saddlebags. “Where's May?” I asked. Gizmo had given the gun to her, and I was useless with it anyways. Besides; I had no idea what we were going to do next.

“She only woke up a little while ago,” replied Stronghoof. “She stepped out after giving me the gun to work on.”

I nodded, then moved to leave the cistern. Before I could make it out, Stronghoof walked up to me, another gun held in his teeth. It was a rifle, old and worn, but still sturdy looking. He had been taking good care of it, that was for sure. It had a bolt action and had been fitted with a scope. It was the same rifle he had fired the warning shot with the day before.

“If you're going to keep travelling out there, you'll need this more than I will,” stated Stronghoof after handing the gun off to me. I nodded mutely, the gun keeping me from speaking. I slipped it into the strap of my saddlebags to take to May as well.

Before leaving, I had one more question for the crippled ex-warden. “What will you do now?” I had considered asking him to come with us, but he was in no condition to travel. May and I might have looked like rotting corpses, but at least we were healthy inside.

Stronghoof locked me with his remaining eye. Awkwardly, my lazy eye rolled up at the same time. “Raider spared you two yesterday, and I haven't known him to have any compassion for a long time. There might just be a touch of his mother left in him, and I'm going to see if there's still a chance to turn Ponyville around. The last thing I want is for my legacy to be a town full of bandits.” He smirked coldly; “They'd probably start calling them 'raiders' just to spite me.”

I patted Stronghoof on the shoulder in a last attempt to comfort him. “There's always hope,” I said. It wasn't always easy to believe that, but I truly felt it was the case. I knew that May did too, otherwise she wouldn't be driven like she was to find the cure for ghouls. He gave me a small smile, then walked over to a fridge to grab food for himself.

I turned away from Stronghoof and climbed the ladder out of the cistern. I left the ponyhole cover askew so that he could get out more easily later. The rain hadn't stopped, but had at least slowed to a slow trickle. I found May out by the tree, laying next to the graves of Honeydew and Aegis. An inhaler lay discarded to her side, and she had a spacey look about her. Her pupils were dilated, and she wore an awkward smile.

The first time I had seen May like this was after we had emerged from the Manehattan General Hospital. That was not the only time either; I had seen her like this a number of times before. She would always excuse herself, but I almost always happened across her anyways. She had done this a few times after we had been assaulted by other survivor ponies, after our first encounter with a herd of feral ghouls, and most recently after we had buried Blinkie Pie.

The word that Tweeker had used came back to me; 'dash'. Now that I was rested and not blown halfway to hell, I finally remembered where I had heard it before. It all flooded back to me in a rush. Back during the war, shortly after the induction of the Ministries, Princess Luna had enacted new contraband laws. All couriers and delivery companies had been required to attend a briefing on them. The briefing had been hosted by the Ministry of Morale, although Pinkie Pie had been strangely absent.

One of the substance mentioned in the briefing had been a zebra drug called dash. It was an inhaled hallucinogenic that was highly addictive. I sat looking at May, stunned momentarily. How could a pony working as a spell researcher and medic for the Ministry of Peace even think of putting such a substance into her body? I had half a mind to buck her out of her daze right now and give her a stern talking to.

As I was about to do so, I stopped, looking down at May. Despite the awkward nature of her smile, it had been some time since I had seen her this serene. Still, it wasn't real... was it? I had never done, dealed in or even seen an illicit substance before the war. In truth, I had no idea what she was experiencing right now, only the implications made at that old MoM seminar. What she was doing was illegal though. No wait, that wasn't right either. Legality wasn't the issue here, especially considering the MoM hadn't existed in forty years.

What was the issue then? May was using this 'dash' stuff, but was it really affecting her all that much? I had seen her using it maybe a dozen times (and maybe a dozen more that I hadn't seen) in the past forty years. Every time she used it seemed to follow a great unfortunate event or tragedy, yet she always got back up and moved forward afterwards. But what if it got worse? I couldn't just let her keep doing it; I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did. Still, I would wait until she came down to talk to her about it.

For now, I laid down next to May and tapped at her Pipbuck with a hoof. I brought up the radio and turned on DJ P0N-3's station. I caught the tail end of a song by Vinyl Scratch, briefly amused that Turntable had added something by his aunt to the selection. When Turntable came on, he sounded a little rough, since he was getting on in years.

“Special thanks goes out to the little courier who brought in some new music for us just a few days ago. You have no idea how much it means to me, and to all of Equestria. You know who you are. Now, on to the news.”

“Get ready for a shocker children, 'cuz this is is gonna be one doozy of a doozy. I've been supplying the Equestrian Wasteland with news, tunes and tips for the past forty years. After this long, I'm starting to think I'm getting a little old for this. You hear me right fillies and gentlecolts, it's time for Turntable to retire.”

“Now, before you get all upset, please note that I said its time for Turntable to retire, not DJ P0N-3. The wasteland needs a DJ, and there will always be a DJ P0N-3. So, if you please, lets have a round of applause for my lovey daughter, and your new DJ. Give it up for: Remix!”

I could hear the stomping of single pony's hooves and a few shuffling noises as Turntable moved away from the mic. After a brief pause, his voice was replaced by that of a much younger sounding mare. In spite of being younger and softer sounding, she was not lacking in charisma.

“Good morning everypony and welcome to the first broadcast of the brand spankin' new DJ P0N-3. For my first broadcast, I've decided to bring all of you some good news. I figure this'll make it easier to swallow that my old man's too old to be doin' this anymore. I know its been rough on all of you living out there since the megaspells fell, but things might just be lookin' up. An errant transmission from a remote Stable-Tec facility has reported that a number of the Stables that were sealed all those years ago are opening their doors!”

“Now, how exactly is this good news you might ask? Surely its just more mouths to feed on what little we got left up here. That's where you're wrong. These underground shelters are equipped with food, water, technology and all sorts of other goodies. Once the inhabitants come out and see that we, their fellow ponies, are in need, I'm certain they'd be willin' to lend a hoof.”

“However, don't be expectin' charity or nothin', we ain't that lucky. These ponies comin' out of the Stables might not be ready for the wasteland. They have no idea what to expect, so, it's our duty to do the right thing, and make sure they know what they're getting into when they come up here. If you happen to meet anypony coming out of a Stable, show them the lay of the land, and they might see fit to return the favour. Its like my old man always told ya, we're all in this together.”

“But wait, there's more! In addition to some of the Stables opening, it looks like there's life in other parts of Equestria as well. Although I don't have eyes and ears inside either city, there seems to be a rise in activity in the outskirts of both Filldelphia and Trottingham. Both cities, so far as I know, are still highly irradiated, so it might just be ghouls, but ya never know. If it is ghouls, remember that they're ponies too. This is the new DJ P0N-3, and I'm gonna leave you with Sweetie Belle's 'The Dark Days are Over'.”

Footnote: Status update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderately-High

Ghoul Tip: Never underestimate the power of positive thinking. Enjoying the little things and holding onto your hope might just be the difference between you and a zombie.

Chapter 6: Hearts of Steel

Chapter 6: Hearts of Steel

“Let's just say the Steel Rangers ain't exactly got a reputation as heroes o' the common pony.”

Priorities.

One thing I learned early in my days as a mailmare was that certain items take priority. Sometimes the priority is determined arbitrarily, while other times it was fairly obvious which items, events or ponies were more important. Then, there are the times when it isn't so clear cut. How do you figure out what takes priority if all of the things that need to be seen to are important? In those moments, that which is truly important will make itself known, but it might not always be what you want.

After hearing the broadcast from the new DJ P0N-3, the priorities of May and I came into conflict. I wanted to be a good friend to May, and talk to her about her drug use. However, the ponies coming out of the Stables that were opening would assuredly be May's first and foremost concern. As well, the possibility of finding other groups of ghouls in Fillydelphia or Trottingham might give her the chance she needed to study more non-feral ghouls than just the two of us. Was her occasional dash huffing really a bigger issue than all that?

In the end I decided that, for now at least, it was not. May came down shortly after Remix's first broadcast, and I immediately filled her in on everything the new DJ had announced. As I anticipated, she was thrilled at the prospect of finding other groups of civilized ghouls. Even more so at the opening of the Stables, which to her was a sign that Equestria might be restored after all. It was the happiest I'd seen her in a long time. Perhaps if things went well, she wouldn't feel the need to escape through dash again. Wishful thinking, but at least it was a start.

Before we got underway, I gave Gizmo's revolver and Stronghoof's rifle over to May. She was disappointed that he had been unable to repair That Gun, but was grateful for his attempt, as well as his gift of a replacement. She slipped That Gun into its holster, then slung the rifle over her back using a strap of leather. We turned back for one last look at the Macintosh War Memorial.

As we looked on, Stronghoof emerged yet again from the cistern. He limped over to us, seating himself at our side and gazing upon the memorial. “Y'know,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I joined the Equestrian Military because of Big Macintosh.” May and I looked at him curiously. “I never actually met him, but as a younger buck I heard stories of the heroism of Big Macintosh and others like him. Marauders, fighting to protect the Equestrian way. I wanted to be a hero, just like him.”

Stronghoof's ears drooped, and he seemed on the verge of crying again. I placed a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “Even heroes like Big Macintosh make mistakes,” I said, remembering that Macintosh himself had been involved in the Smartypants squabble, among other small incidents of trouble in the past. “He'd have been proud of you for trying to fix things.”

Stronghoof gave me a small smile, then stood up. He reached around to a satchel hanging on his side. From within he produced a half dozen healing potions, a decent quantity of bullets for the rifle, and a small amount of food. For May and I, it would last a lot longer. As May moved to put the new supplies away, she remarked that her binoculars were missing. She'd probably left them in the library, but neither of us had any desire the retrieve them at this point.

“I was a locksmith before the war,” stated Stronghoof with a touch of pride. “I was able to get at some supplies from Ironshod and the clinic that nopony else could.” He smirked at us; “I also locked a bit away in the library, so if things don't go so well talking to my son, I can at least return here.”

“Wait,” blurted May, “you can't be planning on fighting anypony, can you?” She immediately trotted over to his peg leg and glance at it nervously. Her horn lit up, as though she was trying to examine it.

Before she could, Stronghoof bopped her on the muzzle with it. “I was not planning on fighting, no,” he stated simply. “I just wanted you to know that I would be able to handle myself. Besides, you've got bigger things to worry about than an old cripple like me.”

“But...” began May, before Stronghoof bopped her again with the peg. She glowered at him. “Fine,” she said, turning up her nose. I giggled. “Don't blame me if you get infected splinters.” Stronghoof gave a wry chuckle.

With a last, brief laugh shared amongst the three of us, we turned away from each other. Stronghoof moved back towards Ponyville, his pace slowed by the peg but filled with resolve. I wished him the best of luck. May and I turned away from the town, out sights set forward. We departed from Ponyville, but it would not be the last time I returned there.

***

May and I had decided to head to Fillydelphia first. Or rather, she had decided. She reasoned that the city housed the former headquarters of Stable-Tec, the very same site from which Gizmo had gotten his information on the Stables' successful sealing all those years ago. She believed that, if the building was still intact, then it might reveal which Stables had opened. From there, we could either go to those Stables ourselves or get the information to those in a position to help. I was inclined more towards the latter; Stable ponies seemed like the type to think ghoul ponies were monsters and I was sick of getting shot at just because of my appearance.

That said, the trip to Fillydelphia was going to be a long one. I could fly there from Ponyville within a day, but May was once again insistent on staying on the ground. Considering how often we nearly got killed by getting shot or blown up, I figured she would have gotten over her fear of heights by now. As a result, we had to make the trek on hoof. Getting from Ponyville to Fillydelphia on land meant going around the Everfree Forest (the place was bad enough before the megaspells, and neither of us had any interest in finding out how much worse it had gotten).

The trip was going to take nine days, maybe less depending on how often we needed to stop and rest. Just because ghouls don't need sleep, doesn't mean we don't get tired and worn out. While originally opposed to the long trip, I realized that it would give me a plenty of opportunities to talk to May about her dash usage. Or so I thought. As we travelled, I found that, even when we stopped to rest, bringing up the subject was difficult. I just didn't know how to bring it up without sounding pushy.

An opportunity finally presented itself on the fourth day out. May and I had circled around the Everfree Forest's northern border before heading straight south towards Fillydelphia. In doing so, we ended up in the arid western regions of Equestria. It was fairly easy to travel through the desert; train tracks leading south and May's Pipbuck mapping system kept us heading in the right direction. That was, until we came across the old frontier town of Appleoosa.

Forty years prior, DJ P0N-3 had informed the survivors on the surface that the frontier town, being well out of the way of any population centers, was largely unaffected by the megaspell blasts. What Turntable didn't know, and probably couldn't have anticipated, was the ferocity of wild desert windstorms. Without the pegasi around to keep things under control, the wild desert winds had blown huge amounts of irradiated particles from distant regions into the desert dust bowl. May's Pipbuck had been picking up large amounts of background radiation throughout the desert.

At first we didn't think much of it, considering that all of Equestria was at least partly irradiated. After forty years the levels had died down considerably, especially in more remote regions, but before that, it had been more than enough to be lethal to any regular pony. May and I found this out when we finally reached the town. At first we saw nothing; the town looked amazingly well preserved for how quickly it had been constructed decades prior. Then we went inside one of the buildings.

My eyes watered at what I saw in the former sheriff's office. Several small skeletons were laying around a pair of larger ones; a family that had died of radiation poisoning. We searched the rest of the buildings, but knew better than to expect any survivors. In all, we found the skeletons of two hundred and seventy-three ponies, at least fifty of which, judging by the size of their remains, wouldn't even have been old enough to have their cutie marks.

We found two dozen more skeletons in the area surrounding the town. Some were half buried by shifting sands, and there was likely a great number we never found. In all likelihood they had been heading towards the town based on Turntable's advice, and were killed by an irradiated sandstorm before they could reach it. We even found a train that had pulled into the town on the morning of the megaspell blasts, still half full of provisions that the town hadn't lasted long enough to consume.

While I was inspecting the train for anything that might still be useful to us, May excused herself to 'check something out'. The vagueness of the statement implied what she was really about to do. I nodded to her and let her wander off, but once she was a fair distance away I followed her. I flew twenty feet into the air and then after the path she had left in the sand. It was easier enough to catch her by air.

***

I caught up with May just as she reentered the old sheriff's office. I set down gently and quietly a moment later, then swung the door open. May had seated herself close to the family of skeletons, and had already taken an inhaler from her saddlebags. It was hovering less than an inch from her mouth when I opened the door. I glowered at her as well as I could, though my lazy eye started to roll again.

To my surprise, May did not shout, stammer or even try to hide the inhaler. She simply let out a resigned sigh. She set the inhaler down, then looked at me with a pained expression. Glancing at the skeletons, then back to me again, she asked. “How do you do it?” I was caught off guard, not expecting to be asked such a question. May continued; “How can you go through all of this, and not feel the need to get away from it?”

I was speechless. From what I knew of drug addictions, or at least what I had been told by the MoM, drug users tended to be violent, abrasive, and often in denial of what they were doing. May was none of these things. Did her experience as a medic give her some sort of advantage? Had she found some kind of balance that let her do the drug without becoming an addict? Or was it something else? “What do you mean?” I asked, not really sure of what else to say.

“I never touched this stuff before the megaspells went off,” stated May. Considering what I had seen in Manehattan all those years ago, I didn't think she was lying. May confirmed this; “We only even kept some at the hospital to ease the suffering of patients we couldn't save. The first time I used it was after we scavenged Manehattan General. I focused on trying to help ponies at first, which is how I met you, Stronghoof, Gizmo and the others. Somehow I was able to remove myself from everything bad that had happened by sticking to what I had been trained to do by the MoP.”

“You're still trying to help ponies now,” I noted. “You haven't changed at all these last forty years.”

“No, things have been pretty stagnant,” replied May, “but forty years ago in Manehattan, I changed. The hospital made it abundantly clear that things were never going to be the same. Seeing the building destroyed, Buttercup's corpse and the zombie buck that you killed, more than anything before that, drove home the inescapable truth that Equestria was no more.”

“That's not true,” I countered. “Equestria isn't gone! It's-”

“Isn't it?” cut in May. “Equestria was a luscious, fertile, green nation that was home to millions upon millions of ponies. Now look at it. Look at where we are.” May once again gestured to the family of skeletons inches away from her. “Equestria is gone. I'll keep doing what I can to save what's left, but... sometimes I just need to get away from it. To go back to the real Equestria, before those Zebras fucked everything up.”

I wasn't quite sure what to say. If I was bartering with a merchant, I'd have been able to figure something out real fast. This was an entirely different use of speech, and I had no idea if what I was going to say would be of any comfort to her or not. “I know it looks bad,” I began, trying to find words that wouldn't upset her, “but... think of the Stables! Pony life goes on. We survived; thousands survived on the surface and nearly a hundred thousand more below ground. Equestria might be scorched, but ponies can do so much. Once the Stable dwellers emerge we can rebuild! There must be a way.”

May looked up at me. A small smile touched her muzzle. She shook her head, letting out a soft chuckle. “I envy you Ditzy, I really do. That you can go through everything we've been through and still hold on to that hope.” I was surprised when May levitated up the dash inhaler, placing it back in her saddlebags. “Perhaps you can see something I can't.” She stood up, walking towards the door. “Perhaps I should at least wait and see. After all, we've got a long time ahead of us.”

As May walked out of the Sheriff's office, I pondered her words. According to her, radiation constantly heals our bodies. So long as it remains present, even in trance amounts, the effects of ageing were effectively negated. She had theorized early on that we might still be alive after a hundred years. Would that be enough time to see Equestria restored? I really hoped so. As much for May's sake now as anything else.

***

Despite our little chat, I still caught May taking that dose of dash after I finished gathering some supplies from the train. I wasn't pleased about it, but there really wasn't much I could do to stop her at this point. At least, not without putting our friendship at risk. I hoped that once we reached Fillydelphia, her work would keep her from going back to it again. I filled my packs as much as I could from the abandoned train. Although May and I might not need that much, there were probably going to be ponies who did, and I wanted to be prepared in case we found any.

We left Appleoosa later that same day, without any further disruptions of the town. Although it pained me to simply leave those poor ponies where they had died, the idea of disturbing them had its own lack of appeal. As well May wanted us to press onwards towards Fillydelphia. There, we might find the means to help other ponies that were still alive to be saved. May also reasoned that, since the radiation had since fallen below lethal levels, that other ponies would come to inhabit Appleoosa again. Hopefully they would have the luxury of seeing that the dead were properly seen to.

The only trouble we encountered on the rest of our trip through the badlands was a nasty sandstorm. However, we had nothing to fear from the radiation carried on the wind, and May's shielding spell kept us from being eroded by the thousands of tiny daggers that the sand was made into. It was quite plain to see how the deceased of Appleoosa had been so quickly stripped of their flesh after death. My heart wrenched, and I had to force myself not to think about it. Focus on those that could still be saved.

The storm lasted for days, as most seemed to without the other pegasus ponies around to monitor and control them. By the time it subsided, May and I were already at the edge of the badlands, less than a day's trot from Fillydelphia. The emptiness of the badlands gave way to the emptiness of the rest of the Equestrian Wasteland. The only real difference was the feeling of sickly grass beneath my hooves instead of sand between the train tracks we were following. That only lasted until the tracks curved to run along side a road, which May's Pipbuck indicated would lead us the rest of the way to Fillydelphia.

We followed the road south and east for another day, and the skyline of Fillydelphia loomed ever closer as we walked. It was neither as broad or as monolithic as Manehattan, but made up for that with a few traits all its own. Many squat builtings with massive smokestacks jutting out of their roofs could be seen. These were the factories that, even before the war, had seen the dawn of Equestria's technological revolution. No smoke came from them now; they were as dead as everypony who had been in the city when the megaspell struck it.

Before we could reach the city however, May brought us to a halt. She glanced at her Pipbuck intently, and I looked over her shoulder, curious as to what held her gaze. She was on the radio display, but instead of turning on DJ P0N-3's station, her hoof hovered over a broadcast that was labelled 'Stable 67'. She looked to me, wondering what I thought. I simply nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead and put it on.

“...Sixty-Seven. Calling all nearby Stable-Tec facilities and peripherals: Stable Sixty-Seven has activated an automated distress signal. Detailed message not found. Priority one danger alert issued; Stable residents in immediate mortal danger. Immediate assistance required. Message repeats: This is an automated signal from Stable Sixty-Seven...”

Before the message got past the word 'distress', May and I were already off galloping towards the source of the signal. May switched off the transmission to check her map, then turned on a dime when the tag for Stable Sixty-Seven appeared west of the city. Despite the fact that we were both rather old at this point, May was still younger and quicker on her hooves than me. I had to take to the air alongside her to keep up.

***

After a few minutes of hard galloping (or flight in my case), we came within sight of a massive quarry off the western edge of Fillydelphia. Apparently the Stable had been built beneath the excavation site after all of its resources had been mined for the city. Before we could get there, the sound of a massive explosion burst through the air from the direction of the quarry. The ground shook from the force of the blast. Fearing the worst, May and I quickened our pace. We gasped when we reached the entrance to the massive gravel pit.

From where we were, we could see wisps of smoke rising faintly from beneath a massive slide of rocks. One whole side of the quarry's entrance had been blown out, and had collapsed in a massive heap. May and I didn't see anypony around, but our attention was pulled upwards by a frantic mechanical whirring. A small mechanical owl was hooting at us. This struck me as a rather odd place for such a thing. I shook the thought aside as it dove towards the far side of the rubble, whirring and clicking hectically.

May and I made our way carefully around the rock slide, not wanting to trigger any further collapse. The mechanical owl drew our attention to a body, buried from the waist back in the rubble. From what I could see, he was wearing heavy armour made of metal that covered everything except his head. He was a unicorn with a tan coat, his mane a pale red colour that was giving way to grey, showing his age. An odd protrusion ran up from the neck of his armour, featuring a visor in front of his eyes and a bit mechanism just below it.

May's horn lit up as she checked the stallion over. He stirred slightly, indicating that he yet lived. There was a nasty gash on his forehead that was bleeding into his left eye, and May's worried look suggested the lower half of his body had been messed up pretty badly by the crushing rocks. The mechanical owl hooted frantically, and I assumed he belonged to whoever this stallion was.

May looked at me sternly. “He's in bad shape from the waist down, but I can still save him,” she said determinedly. “I need you to pull him out of there. I'm going to hold the rocks back so it doesn't collapse any further.”

“Got it,” I said, moving to the front of the half buried stallion.

May's horn lit up, and all of the rocks immediately surrounding the armoured stallion glowed softly, trembling slightly. I placed my hooves firmly beneath the buck's shoulders and pulled, using both my hind legs and wings for leverage. Whatever he was wearing was really heavy. The mechanical owl clamped on the scruff of my neck, trying to help me pull. It wasn't easy to pull the stallion out between his weight and the slippery gravel that covered the ground, but a few minutes later he was free.

The stallion stirred again once he was free of the rubble, and surprised both of us when he managed to stand up. No longer buried, I could see that the stallion was in fact covered almost entirely in his armour, even down to his tail. He was also adorned with a large battle saddle, one side of which bore a minigun, with a drum fed shotgun on the other. There was also a marking of a sword, sparks, wings and gears on the flank of the suit of armour where his cutie mark would be underneath. I recognized the symbol immediately; this pony wore the armour of a Steel Ranger!

The stallion began muttering to himself, not seeming to notice May and I were there. I wondered if he had a concussion. “Medical is down,” he stated obliviously, “but auto-repair is back up.” He stomped a foreleg, and the visor in front of his face lit up with numerous bits of information that looked like gibberish to me. “Prioritize repair of doctor enchantment, then locate the tags for Squire Noodles and Junior Knight Violet.”

May raised a hoof as though to admonish the stallion, but stopped abruptly. As we watched, the gash on his head started to mend all on its own. It was only when it had sealed completely that he seemed to notice May and I were there. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, jumping back a full three feet from us. The barrels of his minigun began to spin. I took an involuntary step back, not wanting to get shot by this terribly well armed warrior. “Non-hostile,” murmured the stallion, and the barrel stopped revving. “I take it that you're not zombies,” he stated cautiously, “considering that you aren't trying to eat me.”

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It was quite a relief to see somepony that asked first instead of just shooting at us. “No,” I replied swifly, hoping to enforce that recognition. After all, ghoul ponies spoke; zombies did not.

May stepped forward; “We came here when we picked up the distress signal from Stable Sixty-Seven,” she stated firmly. “Your owl led us to you after that explosion.”

At May's words, horror spread onto the stallion's face. He turned on the spot, observing the pile of rubble we had pulled him from. “Luna damn it!” he roared. I saw something scroll across the visor, at which point the Steel Ranger clenched his eyes shut, tears pooling. “This was Noodles' first field mission, and Violet was one rank away from her full power armour.” The ranger stomped the ground hard enough to send more rubble tumbling down from the pile.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer to the armoured buck. “What was that explosion.”

The ranger turned back towards May and I, opening his now red and puffy eyes. “A trap,” he stated simply. “Noodles, Violet and I received word that this Stable had opened, and were coming as envoys to the ponies inside. We rushed in when we heard the distress signal, but didn't stop to check for hazards. Best I can guess, somepony buried a pressure plate under the gravel and rigged a bunch of dynamite to the quarry wall. I should have been more careful, and now they're dead because of me.”

I wrapped a hoof around the ranger's neck as he hung his head. Before I could tell him not to blame himself, May cut in. “We can mourn your friends later,” she said roughly. “But the ponies in that Stable are still in danger. We need to make sure no other innocent ponies die today.”

The ranger looked up at May and smirked halfheartedly. “You've got a pretty good attitude for a ghoul. I...” the stallion trailed off as he gazed at May. His eyes were drawn to the holster at her shoulder, which still held Gizmo's gun. The stallion's horn lit up, and That Gun was snatched from its holster, floating in front of his visor.

“Hey!” barked May, “give that back!”

The ranger looked at May, glaring coldly at her. “Where did you get this?” His tone was icy, with a hint of ferocity underneath.

“I said give it back!” May demanded.

“Answer me!” shot back the stallion. “Where did you get this? This arcano-tech is-”

“That was given to me by an old friend,” May snarled. I was worried; there was no way we could stand up to this buck, but May wasn't about to give up something so precious. “Now give it back!”

“An old friend...” The ranger looked intently at That Gun, then looked up at May. His eyes moved to her Pipbuck, then back to her face. He turned to look at me, startling me enough that my wings fluttered involuntarily. My lazy eye also started to roll downwards. “Ditzy? May?”

May looked shocked that the stallion knew our names. The identity of this stallion dawned on me as I looked at the way he held That Gun, and the silvery glow around his horn. “Gizmo!?”

***

Upon realizing the identity the identity of the Steel Ranger, I immediately pounced on him to give him a full bodied hug. Upon colliding with his armour, I winded myself, but wrapped my hooves around him anyways. He placed an armoured hoof over my shoulder as well, smiling at me. It was a little odd, as his eyes were still red from the tears he had shed for his companions that had been killed in the rock slide. May and I had thought Gizmo long dead, but here he was. I told him as much.

“Nope,” he said, smirking. “Came close a few times, but managed to keep on ticking. Frankly I thought you two would be long dead by now.”

“Ghouls age really slowly,” I stated, quoting May's simplified explanation. “Although the last time you saw us was before we were fully ghoulified.”

“It's very nice to see you're alive and well Gizmo,” cut in May, “but we can catch up with each other after we rescue those Stable dwellers.”

I released Gizmo from my hug and we both looked to May, nodding intently. Directed by her pipbuck, we made our way to the mine entrance, wherein the Stable was concealed. It was the site of a slaughter. Eight ponies, all wearing barding with the Stable-Tec logo and the number '67' emblazoned on the back lay dead in drying pools of their own blood. Four of them were wearing armoured barding that read 'Stable-Security', but they didn't appear to have any weapons on them. Several of them looked scorched and were missing legs. I felt sickness tinged with rage at those responsible. Their selfishness was inexcusable.

“Bandits,” remarked Gizmo. “Can't say how they knew this Stable was opening, but I'd wager these ponies were a scouting party.” He sniffed at one of the charred ponies; “More dynamite. Probably caught these poor souls by surprise, then gunned down the rest.”

“They're no better than zebras,” growled May. “I didn't think anypony here in Equestria would be this depraved, especially considering how few of us left there are.”

Gizmo let out a saddened sigh and shook his head. “No, but they do anyways. I've gotten reports of similar raids on at least two other Stables.” A look of stern determination fell across his face. “Not this time though.” He let out a whistle, causing the mechanical owl to fly down and perch itself on his shoulder. “Gearwing, I need you to check the entrance and make sure it's clear. Lethal force is authorized.”

The owl hooted and whirred, then flew into the open mine shaft. The shaft was dimly lit as far as I could see, oil lamps lining the wall. I watched Gearwing fly into the shaft, then disappear off to the side. It the tunnel remained deathly silent until a pair of voices, carried on echoes, reached us from the passage that Gearwing had taken.

“What the hell...” was all that was said before the air was filled with a strange zorching sound, followed by pained yelling. A few gunshots sounded off in return, but the sound of more blasts from Gearwing's magical energy weapon announced that they had missed. After a few moments, the yelling stopped, and all was quiet again. Gizmo's owl flew back up to us, hooting proudly.

“We're clear,” stated Gizmo. The three of us galloped into the shaft, then turned down the passage Gearwing had taken before.

The passage continued for a while until we came the the entrance to Stable Sixty-Seven. Just outside the door was the body of a bandit, his face marred by large, painful looking burns. He was dressed in crude armour that didn't look like it offered much protection. The skin and coat on one side of his face was completely burnt off, and the smell of it was choking in the enclose space. Near the corpse was a pile of glowing pink ash, a broken gun laying next to it.

Gizmo stepped over the dead bandits without a second look, making his way through the frame that would have held a massive steel door if the Stable had still been sealed. His turned quickly to the left as an internal door opened to the side of the entrance hall, admitting three more bandit ponies. Gizmo's minigun roared, quickly turning them into bullet riddled meat. He turned on the spot, looking intently at his visor. Once he had scanned the immediate area, he motioned for May and I to enter.

“Keep your E.F.S. Up,” Gizmo told May. She nodded and kicked her Pipbuck leg. Before going any further, Gizmo's horn lit up, floating out That Gun and a couple of tools from compartments in his armour. After a few minutes of tinkering, he floated the gun back to May. “There, that should do for now. I'll give it a proper tune up once we've secured this place.”

“Thank you,” said May, taking the gun from Gizmo's telekinetic grasp with her own magic. She quickly checked its load, then held it at breast height.

I had neither a weapon nor an E.F.S. “What should I do?” I asked. May knew full well I wasn't any good with guns, and without a Pipbuck to target for me, I was hosed if forced into a gunfight.

“Just a minute,” said Gizmo, once again scanning the immediate area with his visor. He led May and I into the room to the right of the Stable entrance, where a Stable-Tec terminal sat on a desk near the wall. Gizmo's horn lit up and a cable sprung from the should of his armour, plugging into the terminal, which blazed to life. Torrents of data flew across the screen, and also across his visor. Gizmo telekinetically tapped keys at an alarming speed as he tore through the information on the terminal.

“Okay,” said Gizmo as he disconnected from the terminal. “I hacked into the Stable's security monitoring. There's a dozen bandits in the atrium, and another dozen scattered throughout the rest of the Stable.” His visor lit up, followed immediately by a beeping from May's pipbuck. “I've uploaded the location of the clinic. There's a couple bandits there, but I don't think you'll have a problem.”

“The Stable ponies appear to be holed up in the underground orchard,” Gizmo continued. “There's six hundred of them, and they might need medical attention.” May nodded, checking the map information Gizmo had sent her. “I'll head to the atrium and clear out the bandits there.”

Our old friend finally turned to me. “Ditzy, I want you to start heading towards the orchard. May and I will meet you there once we've taken care of the rest of the bandits. Gearwing will lead the way, and if you fly you should be able to avoid getting noticed. If you do run into any bandits, Gearwing will take care of them.” Gizmo's visor beeped again, eliciting a whirring hoot from his owl.

I nodded warily. I wasn't looking forward to having to fight other ponies, but there were hundreds of innocents in need of our help. Convincing the bandits to surrender didn't seem possible either; there were almost no normal ponies that would even listen to a ghoul, let alone surrender to one. “I'll do my best,” was all I could say.

“Hold on,” said May before I could turn to leave. She levitated Stronghoof's rifle free of her back and floated it over to me. “I know you're not a good shot, but I want you to have it with you, just in case.”

I grasped the rifle in my teeth and smiled around it, secretly hoping I wouldn't have to use it. I tried to say 'thank you', but what came out was a bunch of mumbling as I tried to talk around the gun. I hung it by the strap around my neck, then repeated my thanks.

“One last thing,” said Gizmo, his horn glowing brightly. His spell became evident when his voice rang out throughout the Stable. However, Gizmo's spell was different from May's. Instead of amplifying his voice, it boomed out of every single speaker, radio and broadcaster in the Stable. Even May's pipbuck blared with his voice.

“ATTENTION RESIDENTS OF STABLE SIXTY-SEVEN. MY NAME IS GIZMO: STEEL RANGER AND FORMER STABLE-TEC ENGINEER. REMAIN CALM AND STAY WHERE YOU ARE; HELP IS COMING. THOSE WHO INVADED THIS STABLE ARE ADVISED TO LAY DOWN THEIR ARMS AND SURRENDER. THOSE WHO DO NOT WILL BE TREATED AS HOSTILE AND DISPATCHED WITHOUT LENIENCY OR EXCEPTION.”

***

After Gizmo's announcement to the Stable, the three of us split up. May went through the door to the left of the entrance hall, which would lead her to the clinic and Overmare's office. Gizmo went straight ahead towards the atrium, intending to clear out the better part of the bandits. That left me heading right. I would be able to follow a path set by Gizmo, as led by Gearwing, through the residential area of the Stable. It would eventually bring me down to the underground orchard.

As I hovered down the passages as quietly as I could, Gearwing flying equally stealthily beside me, I began to notice things about the Stable. The lights in the ceiling let out a constant, low pitched whine. I wondered how anypony could put up with it. As well, the walls were painfully dull; clean, sterile, and entirely grey, except when interrupted by the markings on doors. It also felt very narrow and cramped. I began to feel a little claustrophobic, and wanted to go back outside.

I couldn't though; Gizmo and May were counting on me to get to the orchard and reassure the Stable ponies, who were probably fearing for their lives after their home was invaded. They had also deliberately given me the path of least resistance. There were only two bandits in the entire residential area, and they could be avoided with a few turns in the right places. I wondered if Gizmo might have been wrong about that, as my progression through the Stable was rather linear, even if I was turning and descending at the end of each hall.

All thoughts about the Stable's layout fled when I finally reached the residential area. The endless grey of the walls gave way to splatters of red; the blood of the ponies who had lived here. If it hadn't been for that, I might have missed the slaughter I was now hovering over. Down this hallway alone, I could see the bodies of a dozen ponies, all of them wearing Stable barding. Trails of blood leading into a number of rooms spoke of numerous others I couldn't see. Bullet and knife wounds covered all of them.

I felt an intense sadness well up in me, and I had to fight not to be sick. I didn't want to unintentionally desecrate the hall of fallen ponies. These ponies had survived the end of the war; the holocaust that destroyed most of Equestria. They had been safe down here, they had been secure. Then the doors opened, and the wasteland was let in. Before the ponies here even knew what was coming, the horrors of the surface destroyed what their lives had been.

Gizmo had claimed that this had happened to other Stables that had opened. Had we ponies really become so depraved in only forty years? Images of Ponyville, barely recognizable now, drifted through my mind. I saw images of so many ponies I knew that were now dead fade away. Perhaps we had already been like this, and the war had just given us an excuse to show it. Perhaps, under everything else, ponies really were selfish monsters.

I shook my head violently; No! There were still good ponies out there; Stronghoof, Gizmo, May, DJ P0N-3, all of whom were doing their part to try and help ponies. The Stable ponies too; they didn't know the desperation of the wasteland, and would have grown up better for it. Once more of them started to return to the surface, things would definitely change for the better. And that started right here, right now.

“I've seen enough of this,” I said to nopony in particular.

I swallowed the traces of bile that had threatened to escape from my muzzle and flew through the Stable halls with renewed determination. I again lamented being unable to tend to the dead, but there were living ponies to see to, like May always said. If Gizmo was anything to go by though, the Steel Rangers would take care of things once the Stable was secure anyways. He had a will of steel and a heart of gold. He was suffering too at the loss of his two companions, but pressed on anyways. I couldn't do any less.

***

As I reached the lower levels of the residential area, Gearwing came to a sudden stop. I stopped as well, looking to the mechanical owl that was my guide. Its head turned a full one hundred-eighty degrees, scanning the surrounding rooms. From what Gizmo had said, it had something similar to May's E.F.S. Its head stopped turning when it gazed into a room to my right. It fluttered into the room, and began looking about sporadically.

I flew into the room afterwards, setting down on the floor as quietly as I could. There were two bodies in here; one mare and one stallion. Probably a couple, I mused. Both had been standing right in front of the door and taken a number of small caliber shots to the chest. Gearwing had flown past them, into what looked like a master bedroom. It was staring intently at the bed, it's beak open and magical energy weapon shimmering softly, but not yet firing.

And then I heard it. My ears perked up, catching the sound of small, barely audible sobs. It was the crying of a foal. I quickly trotted into the room and told Gearwing to stand down. Apparently his sensor thingies weren't very clear on what the entities they picked up were. I knelt down beside the bed, glancing under the frame. I lifted a trailing bit of sheet to see who was hiding underneath.

It was indeed a foal; a unicorn filly with a soft green coat. Her forehooves were pressed tightly over her face, as if trying to shield herself from the nightmare that had invaded the Stable. She chanced a glance when the light from the room entered through the lifted sheet. She took one look at me and screamed. “M-m-m-monster pony! Mommy! Daddy! Help me!”

The little unicorn, no longer attempting to conceal herself, scooted back and out the other side of the bed. She didn't watch where she was going, and her hindquarters bumped into the wall roughly. With no further space to flee, she covered her face with her hooves again. I stepped away from the bed and slowly made my way around to the other side. The filly was shuddering, and a tangy smell told me just how frightened she was.

Still, I wasn't a bad pony, or a monster. “I'm not going to hurt you,” I said, clearing my throat in an attempt to reduce the gruffness of my voice.

The filly's shuddering did not subside, but she chanced another glance at me. Her eyes betrayed the absolute terror she was feeling from the sight of me. Couldn't really blame her; at that age, even I had been afraid of the boogeypony, whom I was sure I now resembled. “Mommy taught me a spell to make bad dreams go away,” she said, glaring at me. “I'll make you and all this go away, just you wait!”

The filly's horn lit up, sputtering with a soft green light. Nothing happened, although I had expected that. The glow died and she panted, still looking right at me. “I'm sorry,” I offered, “but this isn't a dream.” I didn't have much experience dealing with children, but I hoped I could at least calm her down. “What's your name?”

“Mommy told me to hide under the bed,” she replied. “She said I would be safe so long as I stayed there and didn't come out. She was scared, and I wanted her to hide with me until the bad ponies went away, but she and Daddy went to try and make them leave.”

My heart broke for the foal, but right now I needed to convince her to trust me, even if just a little bit. If I could get her to the orchard, she would be safe with the other Stable ponies. “I'm here to help,” I said, trying again. “Did you hear Gizmo over the speakers?”

The filly nodded tentatively. “He talked like the Overmare; said he was going to help us.”

“I'm his friend,” I said, hoping I sounded believable. “He's making the bad ponies go away right now. He told me all your friends were safe in the orchard. He wanted me to take you down there.”

“But you're a monster pony,” protested the filly. “You might be playing tricks so you can take me away and gobble me up.”

I shook my head, causing my lazy eye to wobble around. The filly let out a small, involuntary giggle, then clamped her hooves over her mouth. “I'm not a monster pony, I'm a...” I paused for a moment, wondering what to say. There was no way I could explain ghouls ponies to her in a way she'd understand, at least not quickly. “It's a curse,” I blurted. “An evil enchantress hexed me to look like this.” It wasn't entirely a lie, since my condition was a result of a type of magic.

“R-really?” stammered the little green unicorn, putting her hooves at her sides. “You're not going to eat me or anything?”

“Nope,” I replied, feeling slightly more confident. To emphasize this, I took a box of single serve cake out of my saddlebags. “I usually prefer muffins, but this is all I've got right now.”

The filly's eyes lit up at the sight of the cake. “Can... can I have some? Oh, and my name is Emerald.”

“I'm Ditzy Doo,” I said, smiling. My eye rolled again and she laughed. It was good to hear. Now I just had to get her to safety. “I'll let you have the cake, but first we need to go find your friends.”

“And Mommy and Daddy too right?” Emerald said, almost pleading. “I'm supposed to ask them before I eat any sweets.”

I mentally kicked myself; I couldn't let her know her parents were dead, at least not until she was safe. “Maybe,” I said, not committing either way. “Most of the others are in the orchard, so we should look there first.”

Emerald nodded fervently. I felt bad for lying to her, but my first priority was making sure she stayed safe, just like her mother had wanted.

***

Between crying and wetting herself, Emerald was a mess. I allowed her a few minutes of privacy in the bathroom connected to the bedroom to wash up. I wasn't about to let her see the bodies of her parents, not yet. When she returned, I instructed her to climb onto my back so I could fly her the rest of the way. I managed to convince her to keep her eyes closed by telling her that flying was scary if they were open. She remarked that I could use a bath, but didn't say anything else.

With Emerald in tow, I started flying back towards the orchard again. There was only one more level of residences between where I was now and the sub level that held the orchard. I discovered this when I stopped to check a wall chart showing the Stable's layout. As I descended into the last residential level, the number of bodies of Stable ponies dropped to none. Apparently everypony on this lowest level had enough time to flee, and I was greatly thankful for it. The sight of corpses never grew any less unpleasant.

Before I could reach the end of this hall however, Gearwing began to hoot loudly. I came to a stop in midair, and I felt Emerald clutch at my back tightly. Two bandit ponies stepped out of the room at the end of the hall. One was a unicorn levitating a small firearm, the other an earth pony with a nasty looking knife in her teeth. They both sneered cruelly at me.

“Looks like we missed somepony,” crowed the unicorn. I suddenly felt very sure that these ponies were the ones responsible for many, if not all, of the deaths on the floors above.

I reared up in the air, Emerald clinging tightly. I heard her 'eep', and felt her shuddering again. I glanced at Gearwing; “Get rid of these bad ponies,” I said, without hesitation. They were clearly not looking to surrender.

The mechanical owl was happy to oblige, flying straight past me towards the bandits. Startled by the sudden action, the unicorn fired her gun a number of times in rapid succession. However, the owl was small, fast and moved sporadically. All of the shots missed. Gearwing returned fire with blasts of magical energy from its beak. The gun wielding unicorn had no further comments as her body dissolved into pink ash. The knife wielding bandit had just enough time to drop his weapon before a reddish beam struck directly into his eye, undoubtedly sizzling his brain inside his skull. He slumped to the floor in a heap. I found myself not really caring that he might have been about to surrender.

I was not innocent; in my forty years of wasteland wanderings, I had killed. Radiation twisted beasts, mutated animals, and zombie ponies had all died at my and May's hooves at one point or another. However, all of those creatures were not of sound mind, and had little control over their instincts. These bandit ponies ought to have known better, but chose to do these unspeakable acts anyways. They were much, much worse. I took no joy from their deaths, but I would reserve my remorse for those who deserved it.

“The metal birdy is cool,” I heard Emerald call from my back. “Can it make the pretty lights again?”

“Sure,” I replied, “but only when we need to make more bad ponies disappear.”

“Okay!”

***

I exited the residential area and came into one last hallway that led to the underground orchard. I could see a larger, open chamber at the end, but that was just the orchard's entrance. I slowed my flight to keep as quiet as possible, and instructed Emerald and Gearwing to be silent as well. If there were bandits trying to get into the orchard, I didn't want them to hear us coming.

My suspicions turned out to be true as, upon reaching the end of the hall, I saw two bandits at the entrance to the orchard. One was fruitlessly bucking her hooves against the door, while the other (at least marginally smarter than her companion) was tinkering with a terminal set into the wall. Considering the time it had taken me to get down here, I doubted she was any good at what she was attempting. Her 'hacking' consisted of pounding her hooves against the keys, probably without result.

I backed away from the wider chamber, wondering what to do next. I was in a narrow hall, and they both had guns. As well, they had more (if only marginally) room to evade any shots Gearwing or I could attempt to fire at them. For now, the best advantage I had was that they hadn't noticed me. I wasn't a clever pony, but surely I could come up with something.

Ka-blam!

Any attempts at thinking were cut short as the boom of a shotgun went off behind me. There was a series of small clanking sounds as buckshot peppered Gearwing. The mechanical owl dropped like a rock, landing in a heap next to me. I turned on the spot to face another bandit who had come from behind me. There were a few bullet holes in his armour, and a bleeding wound on his side. I suspected he had fled from Gizmo's minigun when the Steel Ranger cleared the atrium. Lucky bastard.

He was an earth pony, and the shotgun was clenched in his teeth. He had been clever, taking out the smaller, more agile opponent first. I pressed back against the wall of the hallway, trying to keep Emerald covered. She was shuddering again, and I wasn't about to let anything happen to her when I was this close to her safety. Unfortunately, there was little doubt that the other two bandits had heard the shot, and without Gearwing I was outnumbered three-to-one.

A realization hit me, and I smirked. Clever though he may have been, the earth pony bandit had made a mistake. I had done enough deliveries for Ironshod that I knew my way around most standard firearms. The shotgun he was carrying was a single shot model; one of the earliest firearms ever produced by pony kind. It was also in rough shape. Bastard was damn lucky that it didn't blow up in his face. However, since it only carried one shot at a time, he couldn't shoot again without reloading.

The way he held the shotgun threateningly close to me implied that he figured I didn't know better. His luck ran out. I flicked my neck, bringing Stronghoof's rifle up to where I could grasp it in my teeth, then pressed the barrel right into the bandit's chin. Terrible shot though I was, I couldn't miss this close. I tongued the trigger, blasting the bandit's brains all over the opposite wall with a resounding crack. His body collapsed slowly, his hooves slipping out from under him.

Without stopping for breath, I released the rifle from my mouth and turned back to the open area. I couldn't see the other two bandits any more. The loud crack of Stronghoof's rifle betrayed how powerful it was, and they didn't know I was a lousy shot. Taking advantage of this, I kicked over a nearby cabinet and tucked Emerald behind it for cover. Unfortunately, the bandits not knowing I was a bad shot didn't change the fact that I stood no chance of hitting them.

As I glanced up over my makeshift cover, one of the bandits was back in view. She was floating an SMG beside her, and I ducked down just as a rain of bullets impacted the cabinet. Mercifully, none of them punched all the way through, but the wooden cabinet would only take so much punishment. As she stopped to reload, I decided to take a chance. Hopefully my luck would at least let me save Emerald.

I propped Raider's rifled up on the cabinet and pressed my good eye up to the scope, shutting my lazy one. It was remarkable how much of a difference that made. With the scope focusing my vision and the distraction of my lazy eye negated, everything was so much clearer. Operating the bolt action of the rifle with my tongue was tricky, but I managed to pull it off. I pivoted the rifle on the cabinet, lining up the cross-hairs with the bandit's head just as she brought up her own reloaded weapon. Our shots rang out together.

Three bullets whizzed past me and two more dug into my shoulder. At the same time, the bandit mare's head exploded, her fire stopping immediately as her gun fell to the floor. I slumped back behind the cabinet, my viscous blood seeping from the two bullet wounds. Stronghoof's rifle clattered to the floor beside me. Emerald looked at me, then turned away and vomited, presumably at the sight of my wounds. Or maybe at the body of the brained bandit behind me. While she emptied her stomach, I plucked a healing potion from my saddlebags and drank it, sighing in relief as the wounds closed gently.

At the same time, I picked Gearwing up with my teeth and placed him in my pack. The owl had stopped functioning, but if anypony could fix it, Gizmo could. There was still one bandit between me and the orchard, and I chanced a glance over the cabinet. The other bandit was back, her fallen companion's SMG in her teeth. I was about to reach for the rifle again when her attention and mine was drawn by the sound of a door opening on the opposite side of the room. Two loud booms were followed by a pair of heavy twenty-gauge slugs tearing gaping holes in the bandit. Gizmo had arrived.

***

Upon being reunited with Gizmo (any May shortly thereafter), I had hugged each of them for all they were worth. It was easy enough to convince Emerald that May was under the same 'curse' as me, making introducing her much easier. I promised May I'd explain later, but she set it aside to check the filly over and make sure she was unharmed. She had also given Gizmo the affectionate title of 'Super Metal pony'.

Gizmo made his way over to the terminal that controlled entry into the Stable orchard. According to him, the bandit mare had gotten herself locked out of the terminal's security. While he was attempting to get around her blundering, May brought me up to speed on what she and Gizmo had seen in the rest of the Stable.

“Their leader was clever, or at least more clever than most of these degenerates,” May explained. “After getting the jump on the scouting party that came out of the Stable, he led the bandits inside and took the security level, preventing them from defending themselves and garnering better equipment for his subordinates.”

“Bastard got away too,” I heard Gizmo call over his shoulder. “used one of the Stable ponies for cover, then bolted. One other bandit got away with him, but only the leader managed to grab a weapon. Crap one too, thankfully; just a single-shot shotgun.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, and informed Gizmo of the wounded bandit that had gotten behind me. “He used that one shot pretty well,” I said, retrieving Gearwing from my saddlebags and bringing him over to Gizmo. “Can you fix it?”

Without taking his eyes off the terminal, Gizmo wrapped the badly damaged owl in a telekinetic sheath, floating him towards his armour. A compartment sprung open, into which he fitted the owl snugly. “Don't worry about it,” he said, closing the compartment. “Gearwing's been through worse. I'll fix him up when I get back to HQ.”

I turned and glanced at May; “Gizmo said you found other Stable ponies alive, right? How many?”

May, finished giving Emerald her checkup, let out a sigh. “Only three. They're all in the clinic right now. One mare was raped several times, and I had to sedate her to treat her properly. They should all recover, physically at least.”

I nodded; it was almost better than what I'd had to fly over in the residential area. I told her as much, although I deliberately neglected to mention Emerald's parents. May however, seemed to comprehend that without vocalization. She spared a sad glance at the filly, who was amusing herself by admiring Gizmo's armour. The parts of it that weren’t covered in blood and gravel dust were rather shiny.

Emerald stopped when a bleeping sound came form the terminal. “Phew,” said Gizmo, “that was tricky. Had to deliberately crash the spell matrix and reboot it from my armour just to get it working again. Good news is, we're in.” He raised an armoured hoof and pressed the button for what appeared to be an intercom. “Attention Stable dwellers; this is Gizmo. The Stable has been cleared of the invaders. Please stand back from the doors.”

***

Gizmo tapped another key, and the door began to open with a pneumatic hiss. Gizmo stepped back from the terminal, placing himself in full view of the opening door. From where I was, I couldn't see too much, but I did notice two ponies in 'Security' barding aiming their guns warily at my armoured friend. I suspected they were the only survivors of the Stable's security. I doubted the guns they had could do any real damage to Gizmo's impressive suit of armour.

Still, I was relieved when they lowered their guns and allowed him to enter the orchard. May, Emerald and I followed in his wake. The security ponies gave May and I odd looks, but clearly did not look like they wanted to mess with the companions of such a heavily armed pony. Especially considering said pony had nearly single hoofedly liberated their Stable.

Gizmo stood in front of the mass of Stable ponies, the number of which, when all cramped together in this orchard, made the large fields feel much smaller than they were. “Is the Overmare present?”

Before anypony could respond however, a small yellow streak ran out of the crowd, plowing into Emerald. “Emerald!” squealed what I could now see was a yellow earth pony filly.

“Tulip!” cried the unicorn filly in return. They rolled around together for a moment, breaking the tension that seemed to have built up in the cramped space.

“I thought the bad ponies got you!” exclaimed Tulip, holding her friend tightly.

“They almost did, but then Miss Ditzy Doo found me,” replied the green coated filly. I waved awkwardly at the earth pony, and the rest of the stable dwellers who I realized were gawking at me. “She may look like a monster pony, but she's really nice.”

I was glad to see Emerald finding a friend. She would need her when she finally learned about her parents, and any other support she could find.

After the brief interruption, Gizmo asked the Stable ponies once more. “Is the Overmare present?”

This time, an orange coated unicorn mare stepped forward. She was barely more than a filly, probably about the same age Gizmo had been when I first met him. She had a cutie mark that looked like a wheel of cheese. “My name is Cheddar Cheese,” she announced. “The Overmare was my mother. She and my father were part of the scouting party that went out when the Stable door opened.”

“I'm sorry,” said Gizmo, “but they were all dead when we got here.”

Cheddar nodded solemnly, probably having already suspected as much. “You have all of our thanks, Steel Ranger, and your companions as well. Did you find any other survivors above?”

“Only three,” stepped in May, bowing her head to the Stable ponies. “Fumbles, Ginger and Rain are all recovering in the clinic.” A few sighs of relief came from the crowd at the mentions of those names.

“Is Doctor Syringe dead then?” asked the Overmare's daughter.

May nodded again; “I believe so. I found a white coated unicorn in a lab coat dead in the clinic. However, I am a former Ministry of Peace medical pony, if there are any of you who are injured, please come with me to the clinic.”

A few blank faces suggest not everypony understood what her title meant, but a dozen ponies with a variety of injuries made their way towards her, most of them helped by others. May began looking them over even as she led them out of the orchard and back up towards the clinic. Once she was gone, Gizmo once again addressed the crowd.

“Now then, how many of there are you down here?” he asked.

“I counted six hundred twenty-seven,” replied Cheddar, “plus the four you saved.” She let out a sigh. “According the last census, the Stable's population was eight hundred sixty-three. Fucking savages.”

I shuddered; the bandits had killed over two hundred innocent ponies in their selfish invasion. I gritted my teeth in frustration. One of them actually cracked, and another fell out. Both, I realized, had been knocked around by the recoil of Stronghoof's rifle. Damn thing had one helluva kick. It was fortunate that May’s repertoire of medical spells had something for repairing bones and teeth.

“Alright then,” said Gizmo warily. “I'd like to ask all of you to come with me; my friends and I will escort you to the surface.”

“Hold on,” came a voice from within the crowd, “we're not going up there! Not after this. The surface is too dangerous!” A few other voices murmured, most in apparent agreement.

Gizmo stamped a hoof, silencing the dissenters. “I'm afraid that's not an option. The resources of this Stable, as well as all of you, are needed on the surface.” I was inclined to agree; if Equestria was ever going to recover, it needed more good, healthy ponies. “As well, I cannot guarantee that something like this won't happen again. My companions and I might not be around to stop it if it does.”

“It's just as well,” chimed in Cheddar Cheese. The rest of the Stable dwellers looked at her in confusion. “This was supposed to be a secret kept by the Overmare, but that hardly seems necessary now.” She cleared her throat and continued; “Stable Sixty-Seven was never supposed to be a generational Stable. It was supposed to open after only ten years, but my grandmother kept it sealed because the radiation levels outside were still too high. My mother made the same decision twenty years later. Only now has the radiation dropped to tolerable levels.”

“You're also on the far side of the city from the impact crater,” noted Gizmo. “There's two more Stables closer to it that are still completely sealed off.”

“I see no reason why we can't keep going down here,” claimed the same buck from before.

“The Apple Orchard down here was being greatly strained to continue providing nourishment for all of us for this long,” barked Cheddar. “It was only because it was on the verge of becoming infertile that my mother dared to venture outside. Like it or not, it's time for us to leave.”

Despite her age, Cheddar's voice held a finality that was hard to question. Probably came with being the daughter of the Overmare. With that, the exodus of Stable Sixty-Seven began. May treated the injured ponies while the rest gathered up what they could carry. It wasn't much, but Gizmo assured them that the Rangers would return to salvage the Stable, as well as tend to those who had been killed.

***

Upon exiting their home, the ponies of Stable Sixty-Seven almost simultaneously shut their eyes and looked away from the sky. Even filtered by the perpetual cloud cover, the sun was brighter and more intense than anything the Stable's lighting could produce. Once the shock of being outside subsided, Gizmo began organizing them into ranks that would allow them to travel swiftly yet safely.

Due to the loss of most of the Stable's security personnel, Gizmo convinced a few of the other adult ponies to volunteer to help guard the rest of the herd. May was staying near the rear of the mass of ponies with those most gravely injured, tending to them as they walked. Gizmo and I were up at the front. He was leading the way, while I stayed by his side. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him. Although I would have to wait until he finished talking with Cheddar Cheese about a number of things that would come with life on the surface.

“Biggest problem up here tends to be food and water,” stated Gizmo. “However, with the water talisman of your Stable and what we can save of the orchard, things stand to improve on that front.”

Cheddar nodded affirmatively. “Thank you again Mister Gizmo; I shall start spreading this knowledge to the others.” After that, the orange mare hung back, starting to talk with others from the Stable of what she had been told.

With Cheddar gone, I finally had a chance to chat with Gizmo. “So,” I said, trotting closer to him, “how did you manage to survive all this time? May and I thought you died out here after reaching the Stable-Tec HQ.”

“I nearly did,” replied Gizmo. “I knew that the city had been hit by a megaspell, so I didn't come here right away. I went out in search of more remote Stable-Tec facilities, ones that I hoped might be safe to get to.”

I nodded, motioning for him to continue. I had waited a while to hear this story, and I didn't want to interrupt it too much.

The tan coated ranger sighed. “Unfortuantely, I couldn't find more than a couple facilities that were still intact, and those usually only had info on Stables that were nearby. So, after hunkering down through the winter, I decided to chance the Fillydelphia HQ. When I got there, the radiation had bled off some, but the inside of the city was nowhere near what any normal pony would call 'survivable'.”

“But you went in anyways,” I supplied. “We heard DJ P0N-3 got your message over the radio.”

“Yeah, but that was all luck,” retorted Gizmo. “I happened across a bottle of RadSafe and a few RadAway potions in a small MoP clinic. Downed the whole bottle before I even set foot inside the city. Even with it boosting my resiliance, I still had to drink the RadAway almost non-stop to keep myself from being cooked from the inside out. By the time I reached Stable-Tec, I only had one packet left.”

Gizmo gave me a hesitant smirk; “I got inside and sealed the door, but the radiation wasn't much better inside. There was only one pony body in the building, and the radiation had killed her and eaten away at her corpse long before I got there. I'd wager it was whoever sent out the Omega-Level Threat Protocols in the first place. Whoever she was, she saved a lot of ponies, and apparently had a taste for applejack.” He added that last part with a smirk

My mind instantly flashed to the orange coated mare of the MWT, but I caught myself, noting that it was also the name of a type of booze. Gizmo chuckled, probably guessing what I had been thinking.

“After I got the message out though, I was already starting to get sick from radiation poisoning,” concluded Gizmo. “I downed the last packet of RadAway, although at that point I figured it was pointless. I occupied myself by building Gearwing, but the radiation was making me sick and tired, and I eventually passed out.”

“Woke up in the care of a small group of Steel Rangers,” stated Gizmo, apparently just as surprised at the time as I was by his telling me. “Apparently they had been looking for a bunker in the area, and picked up the signal from my Pipbuck. I didn't get away unharmed though; lost a kidney, part of my pancreas and spleen, and suffered some nasty liver damage. However, my technical proficiency was more than enough incentive for them to help me pull through, and I've been with them ever since.”

“One thing though,” I mused after Gizmo finished his story, “I thought only earth ponies could be Steel Rangers.”

Gizmo smiled. “Normally, that's true, but the medical systems in this armour are part of what's keeping me going even after all the internal radiation damage. Biggest problem was the fact that, being a unicorn, I couldn't wear the helmet, and the suit would never be fully enclosed.” Gizmo gestured to the visor and bit apparatus in front of his face; “I rigged this up to access the suit's EFS and targeting system, as well as to use my custom battle saddle. Had to cannibalize three Pipbucks, but it was worth it.”

***

Gizmo and I continued catching up with one another while he led the ponies of Sixty-Seven to a temporary encampment that the Rangers had set up. It wasn't all that far away, but the number of ponies moving in the herd slowed travel, particularly those in the back that May was tending to. Emerald, Tulip and some other foals were running around throughout the herd, enjoying their first exposure to the sun, occluded though it was. I envied them a little, as the surface held no novelty for me anymore. I hoped that they would take the first steps in restoring the home I had once known.

Evening was falling as we reached the Steel Ranger compound. It was outside the city, as they only ventured into the still heavily irradiated city to scavenge. For now at least. May and I joined Gizmo when he went up ahead to report what had happened, curious about the Steel Rangers. From Gizmo's example, I expected they were decent ponies looking to use their technology to help get Equestria back on its hooves. I lament how wrong I was.

Gizmo was greeted at the edge of the compound by another Ranger, this one completely encased in his armour. His battle saddle bore a light machine-gun on either side. “Gizmo, welcome back,” he said. He was casual at first, but didn't stay that way for long. “What happened to Violet and Noodles?”

Gizmo shook his head. “I'm sorry, but there was an incident. Bandits invaded Sixty-Seven and set a trap in the quarry. They were killed in a rock slide. We should endeavour to recover their bodies when we return to salvage the Stable. As well, the bandits have been dealt with and I have the surviving residents of the Stable here with me.”

I couldn't see his face, but the tone of the other Ranger suggested he didn't care much for most of what Gizmo had just said. “What of the Stable? Is what we need still intact?”

“Yes,” replied Gizmo, albeit a bit grudgingly. “The water talisman and part of the orchard can be recovered, as well as most of the security armoury. Now then, about the Stable Dwell-”

Gizmo was cut off as the other Steel Ranger spotted May and I off to his side. He immediately rounded on us, his battle saddle loading with a 'click'. “What the hell are a couple of zombies doing here?” He growled dangerously.

Gizmo stepped between the other stallion and us. “At ease Grumble, they're with me.”

Grumble scoffed loudly, not trying to conceal his contempt. “Horseshit; you've got no business with zombies. Now get out of my way so I can put these freaks out of their misery.”

“Those 'freaks',” countered Gizmo, his voice growing dangerous, “helped me liberate Stable Sixty-Seven. Now stand down, that's an order.”

Grumble apparently didn't care; “I don't take orders from eggheads.”

I heard Gizmo's battle saddle reload, and it looked like this debate was going to come to blows. Grumble was larger that Gizmo, and his armour fully covered his head. Gizmo on the other hoof, had vastly superior weapons, probably thanks in large part to his own customizations. It would probably be a pretty even fight overall, but I didn't want it to come to that, not over me. I tried to think of something to say, but it seemed highly unlikely that Grumble would care for the words of a ghoul.

“What the hell is going on here?” The standoff was interrupted by the rumbling voice of a third Steel Ranger. Gizmo and Grumble both turned to look at the new armoured pony. His voice was probably the lowest, most gravelly one I'd ever heard, and exceptionally masculine. He was also very intimidating, with both a rocket launcher and the hybrid offspring of a machine gun and a grenade rifle composing his battle saddle. The look Gizmo gave this pony hinted that he held a great deal of respect from my old friend.

“Senior Paladin Steelhooves, sir!” stated Grumble quickly. “I-”

“I wasn't asking you, Knight Captain Grumble,” intoned the gravelly voice. The mention of both name and rank was apparently rather serious, and Grumble immediately shut up. Steelhooves then turned back to Gizmo, although I thought I caught him casting a glance at May and I. It was hard to tell with his helmet on.

“Sir,” stated Gizmo firmly, “I have returned from Stable Sixty-Seven. I managed to route a group of bandits that had invaded, and have brought the survivors with me. They have agreed to relinquish their water talisman and what can be saved of their orchard. Junior Knight Violet and Squire Noodles were killed in a rock slide set off by a bandit trap.”

The 'Senior Paladin' nodded at Gizmo. “And those two?” he said, gesturing at us.

“Old friends of mine who were in the area by chance,” replied Gizmo. “They pulled me out of that same rock slide and helped me liberate the Stable.”

“I see,” said Steelhooves, his tone almost irritatingly even.

Grumble chose this moment to speak up again. “But sir, those are zombies! They are abominations, and even the Elder has said-”

“I am well aware of what they are, Knight Captain,” cut in the Paladin. “What they are not, is a priority. We have a Stable to salvage, and a number of untainted ponies here, at least some of whom should be of use to us. We shall attend to them first.”

“But Gizmo-”

“Head Scribe Gizmo,” stated Steelhooves, an edge of warning in his voice, “outranks you, and you are to follow his orders. Need I remind you that he has been with the Steel Rangers since before you were born? Any further outbursts and I will see you court marshaled. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” said Grumble, without enthusiasm. He stalked off, probably to find something to vent his frustration on.

Steelhooves turned back to May and I. His tone was slightly softer, although still quite stern. “You have my thanks for assisting Head Scribe Gizmo and the Stable dwellers.” He shook his armoured head; “However, as you can see, your kind are not looked upon well here. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave.”

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderate

Ghoul Tip: Eat, drink and rest when you need to. Although ghouls do not need nearly as much food, water or sleep as normal ponies, they should endeavour to keep themselves sated anyways. Dehydration can leave a ghoul's dry, rotting skin in a bad way. As well, excessive sleep deprivation, chem addiction and especially starvation can cause a ghoul's lucidity to degrade more quickly, leading to feralism.

Bonus Perk Added: Dead Eye Derp – When using a scoped or laser sighted firearm, accuracy penalties due to physical affliction are negated, and you gain a +3% chance to score a critical hit. This effect does not apply to battle saddles, explosives, or magical energy weapons.

Chapter 7: Sheriff Rottingtail

Chapter 7: Sheriff Rottingtail

“There ain't any ghouls but old ghouls. We're the first and last generation.”

Friends.

In the time before the war, I'd had friends. Granted, my appearance and associated lack of coordination were often the subject of ridicule (looking at you Rainbow Dash, wherever you are), but I still had a few close friends that I could rely on. Most of them died the day the megaspells went off. There was almost no way of knowing when or how, and by now there was little reason to dwell on it. All the rest had since met any number of possible ends, none of which I really wanted to contemplate. Even Fluttershy, the nicest pony I'd ever met, was gone.

I had made new friends, sort of. On the first day after the holocaust, I had met May, Gizmo, Stronghoof and Blinkie Pie, as well as a few other survivors. Of all of them, only May had stuck it out with me for the long run, or I had stuck with her, either way. Stronghoof had grown old, and seen the town in his charge come to the brink of ruin and barbarism. Gizmo had joined a society who he hoped could help restore Equestria, but many of them seemed unwilling to help anypony other than themselves.

The worst part in all of this was that I didn't seem to belong anywhere. I wasn't dead, but I wasn't really truly alive anymore either. I was a ghoul pony, cursed to wander the wasteland that used to be Equestria until I either went mad or got killed by somepony who thought I already was. May had been trying to find a cure or treatment of some kind for ghouls, but a lack of other ghouls to study (that didn't try to eat us) made that problematic. What I really needed was something to rekindle my hope.

“I'm really sorry about that,” stated Gizmo solemnly, shortly after Grumble was dismissed and Steelhooves had bade May and I to depart.

“It's alright,” I said, although I wasn't sure how much I meant it. “Most ponies shoot first, without bothering to say anything.”

Steelhooves had since left us, leading the ponies from Stable Sixty-Seven into the encampment that would be their temporary home. Despite May's desire to continue attending to the wounded, the Senior Paladin refused to allow her any further. I was thankful to him for that, as stepping into the camp would likely be a death sentence for either of us, judging by both his own words and the actions of Grumble. It was unfortunate, but it was time for May and I to move on.

I cast a longing look back at the Stable dwellers. Emerald and Tulip were running around gaily with a few other children. I really hoped they would be alright. Gizmo prodded me with a hoof, causing me to turn and face him. “I'll make sure they're looked after,” he said confidently. “The Elder's word is law, but the Head Scribe has a little sway. I can at least make sure they don't go through anything like that again.”

Gizmo looked up to see Emerald waving at him. He waved back with a soft smile. “Hell,” he muttered, “I might even take in that little filly, given that what happened to her parents is partly my fault.”

I looked at Gizmo quizzically; “How can you blame yourself for what those bandits did?” I demanded. He was in no position to be feeling sorry for himself... right?

Gizmo shook his head, apparently thinking so. “I should have gotten there sooner. I would have too, had I not been arguing with the Elder about an incident at another Stable we went to. Then, when we got there late, I rushed in blindly. My haste and lack of caution got Noodles and Violet killed. Not to mention the Stable dwellers that died while I was pinned underneath that rock slide.”

“That can hardly be put on you,” I retorted. “I'd say it was your Elder's fault for holding you up with... what were you arguing about exactly?”

Gizmo's face, ever so briefly, looked grim. He quickly caught himself and re-donned his softer smile. He was keeping something from me, but was at least willing to admit as much. “I can't tell you,” he said bluntly. “At least, not without violating my oath to the Steel Rangers.”

It seemed like whatever that argument was about, it was troubling him. Instead of pressing him though, I wrapped my forelegs around him in a hug. He hugged me back with a metal sheathed hoof of his own. “You still saved a lot of ponies today,” I reminded him, “don't forget that.”

Gizmo shot me a smirk. “Yeah, and don't you forget that you saved me so I could save them, not to mention that I would have been hard pressed to succeed on my own.” Gizmo took another look at the frolicking fillies. “Yeah, I think I will look after her. I always wanted kids of my own, but the radiation effectively gelded me all those years ago.”

I grimaced; that was surely unpleasant, and just a little awkward to hear from a stallion who was half my age. I quickly changed the subject, hoping to avoid further awkward moments. “What are you going to do next?”

Gizmo raised a hoof to his chin. “For now, I'll probably help with the salvaging of Stable Sixty-Seven, since it was my assignment to begin with. After that, I'll have to wait and see.” He then looked me right in the eyes, my lazy eye managing to stay focused on him. “I know what Grumble said must have been upsetting, but there are more good ponies here than just Steelhooves and I. It may be rough, but what we have here is probably the best chance Equestria has to recover.”

I nodded solemnly. “Well then, I guess it's time for May and I to leave.”

As I turned to meet up with May and depart, Gizmo leaned in close to my ear, whispering. “Trottingham,” he said, obviously trying to keep others from hearing. “Stable Twelve. That's all I can say, but you'll understand when you get there.”

Gizmo stepped away from me, walking over to May. He didn't say anything, but his visor bleeped, and the screen of May's Pipbuck flashed briefly. He had probably given her the location of Stable Twelve. He also floated a couple of small tools out of his armour and gave them to her. They were, I think, the same ones he had used to repair That Gun earlier. May nodded silently, taking the tools in her own magical grasp and placing them in her saddlebags. It looked like we wouldn't have to worry about it jamming again, at least not for a good long while.

***

Trottingham was, in so many words, Fillydelphia's opposite. Where Fillydelphia had stood as the center of Equestria's industrial revolution, Trottingham had shunned the often too rapid technological progress of the rest of the country. Of all the major cities in Equestria, Trottingham was perhaps the least steeped in the fruits of industry, instead retaining a pre-war stance, both in terms of the conflict itself, and the general direction in which Equestria was heading. It also just so happened to be on the opposite end of the country from Fillydelphia. None of which mattered when the zebra megaspell hit the city.

May and I had been to Trottingham once before, a few weeks after the end of the first winter in the wasteland. The city was utterly devastated; only the hoofful of newer buildings (most of which were Ministry hubs) in the center of the city remained standing. The rest of the small, rustic homes that had been kept around to maintain the city's pre-industry appeal had been vaporized or flattened by the megaspell. May and I had left when we found no pockets of survivors, or even other ghouls.

The newest thing anywhere near the city was Stable Twelve, the only one in the vicinity of the relatively small settlement. Gizmo had included a few notes along with the location of the Stable, although he seemed to be remaining deliberately vague on what we would find there now. Considering the distance from Fillydelphia to Trottingham, May had begrudgingly agreed to let me fly us there. Her eagerness to find out what Gizmo had hinted at helped suppress her fear of heights. It would take me four days to fly there, compared to the weeks we would spend getting there on the ground.

Of course, I couldn't just carry May on my back. Not only would there be a risk of her falling off, but it would also make flying more difficult. Thankfully, I knew a way around that. I had made deliveries to Fillydelphia before many times, and I knew where a number of post offices were. It didn't take long for me to fly into the city and find a delivery cart suitable for carrying May. The tricky part was rigging up a makeshift safety harness for her, as she would not leave the ground until I had put something together.

While nowhere near Gizmo's level of ability with machines, I possessed some basic tailoring skills. I had done something similar back in Manehattan all those years ago when I rigged up a harness for myself. I was able to pull together something May was satisfied with. After strapping her in, I hitched myself to the thankfully intact harness of the cart, and took off.

***

While we were flying, May attempted to remove herself from the experience as much as possible. I occasionally looked back to find her either staring at the floor of the wagon, or simply clenching her eyes shut. I snickered, wondering why heights was the thing that frightened her the most after all we'd been through. As well, despite the rushing air impairing my hearing, I could hear DJ P0N-3's broadcast playing out of May's Pipbuck, presumably at maximum volume.

The voice of Sapphire Shore gave way to that of Remix. I was still getting used to the stark difference between her and her father, but despite being new to the position of DJ P0N-3, she was doing remarkably well.

“Salutations children, this is DJ P0N-3 and that was Sapphire Shores with a personal favourite of mine. Now, before we get back to the tunes, I've got a bit of news for all you out there listenin'. About a week and a half ago I told you that some of the old Stables were opening up, bringing new ponies into out midst here on the surface. Unfortuantely, a few bad apples saw this as a chance for personal gain, rather than fighting the good fight.”

I listened intently, swivelling my ears back to catch as much of the broadcast as possible. It almost sounded like she was talking about Stable Sixty-Seven.

“Out near the recently established settlement of Hoofstomp-" Not Stable Sixty-Seven, I mused. "-a Stable opened up, only for an unruly band of brutes to barge in and seize the place for their own. Way I hear it, they weren't the kind willing to share with several hundred Stable dwelling ponies.”

I grimaced; Gizmo had been quite serious when he mentioned similar incidents to Sixty-Seven. Looking back, I could see that May was equally disgusted. Still, Remix continued.

“Now, while this may seem dreadful, all is not lost children. Shortly after the invasion, a mare dressed in spiky metal combat armour dove into the Stable after the bandits, and single hoofedly routed them. She emerged with the Stable's survivors and brought them to Hoofstomp; effectively tripling the population of the fledgling community. Sounds like the town will have a much easier time getting its hooves under it now.”

“Now, I don't know too much about this Iron Mare, but whoever she is, I can tell that she's lookin' to fight the good fight. Many well deserved thanks to the Iron Mare for doin' the right thing. You're the kind of heroine this blighted hellscape needs more of. Best of luck to Hoofstomp too. Now let's get back to the tunes...”

As a song by Sweetie Belle began to play, I looked back at May. She seemed to be mulling over the news as well. At first, I wondered if the 'Iron Mare' that DJ P0N-3 had mentioned was a Steel Ranger. However, based on what I had experienced with Gizmo, a Steel Ranger would not have gone in alone. As well, the 'spiky' metal armour that she had been described as wearing didn't match the appearance of any of the three Rangers I had seen, nor any I had encountered prior to the holocaust.

“What do you think?” I called back to the cart.

“I think it's nice to not be the only ponies out here who give a shit,” replied May curtly. “Between ponies like her and the Steel Rangers, I think bandits might actually get that raiding Stables is a bad idea.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. Even if there were bad ponies out there, the good ponies would step up and make things right. Remix was right, this was just what the wasteland needed. Over the course of the flight from Fillydelphia to Trottingham, Remix brought up the 'Iron Mare' a few more times. Each mention was accompanied by talk of some recent act of heroism performed by the armoured heroine. She seemed to have a particular love of protecting pockets of ponies from rampaging beasts. May seemed quite enamoured with the idea of such a heroine, which seemed to be doing wonders for her as well.

***

According to the directions May received from Gizmo, the entrance to Stable Twelve was located inside the Trottingham city proper. More specifically, it was in the sewers. It would be possible to reach it through any of the sewer entrances, but Gizmo had marked a specific ponyhole cover that was closest to the actual Stable. I figured I could put the cart down right on top of the cover, but approach over Trottingham showed me otherwise. In the time since May and I had been there before, life had returned to the city. After a fashion.

Curiosity, both mine and May's, drove me to set down a half mile outside the edge of the city. While most of the old city had been flattened, new structures had been erected. Most of them were little more than scrap metal shacks, and there was a wall around the perimeter made of thick metal plates. I could see ponies moving around the wall; guards. Along with the wall, they were keeping the community I had seen in my flyby safe from the rest of the wasteland.

I detached May from the harness in the cart, only for her to leap out and kiss the ground once it was beneath her hooves. I rolled my eyes (in opposite directions) as I allowed her to get reacquainted with her old friend. Once she was finished, we made out way towards a large gate that stood in the middle of the steel wall. A pair of guards caught our approach and galloped to meet us, both armed with assault battle saddles. They stopped us just short of the gate, and I was shocked at what I saw.

Both of these guards were ghoul ponies! From a distance, particularly with my lazy eye, I hadn't been able to tell. Up close, their hairless bodies and rotting flesh were impossible to miss. One of the guards was an earth pony, the other a unicorn. Was everypony here a ghoul? Would there be another pegasus? The thoughts raced through my mind one after another as we approached the two ghoul guards.

“Halt,” called the earth pony ghoul. May and I stopped. He and the other guard observed us, but it didn't seem like they were immediately hostile. Considering the attitude ghouls often faced, I couldn't really blame them for being cautious around newcomers. It also became immediately apparent why Gizmo had wanted to be secretive about this place, considering the attitude of other Steel Rangers.

“Greetings,” said May, stepping forward and nodding her head courteously towards the two of them.

“Greetings ma'am,” stated the unicorn. He spoke with a Trottingham accent, vaguely reminiscent of what I'd heard from Pipsqueak's last message at the Ponyville Stable-Tec outlet. Although, his voice was still tinged with the gruffness most ghouls had. “Please state your names and business here.”

“I'm Mayflower Cure,” my companion replied casually, “and my friend here is Ditzy Doo.”

The unicorn ghoul shot me a curious look. “Never seen a pegasus ghoul before,” he stated. I didn't think he meant to offend me, but the statement hurt a little. It looked like I was still the only pegasus below the clouds.

May continued; “My companion and I here were told by an old friend that we should come here. We were not actually aware that there would be others here; our friend simply told us that we should look into Stable Twelve.”

The earth pony guard shook his head; “Well, there's nothing down in the sewers and Stable but a bunch of zombies. All of us who kept our minds are up here on the surface now.”

“The Stable is full of zombies?” I blurted, interrupting the guards.

“Yes,” continued the unicorn. “Nopony's got the whole story on how or why, but the door of Stable Twelve didn't close properly. The Stable survived the megaspell impact, but a tiny gap at the door allowed radiation to bleed in. It took months before it became a problem, but even then there was nothing we could do about it.”

“That's awful,” moaned May. I was inclined to agree; May and I had been blasted with huge amounts of radiation all at once, but these ponies would have suffered through the sickness and pain of radiation poisoning over an extended period of time.

“We figured we'd all die down there,” continued the unicorn. “A third of us did. The rest of us ended up like this. Most of them went crazy, turning feral, and they're the only ones down there now. Those of us who kept our minds made our way back up to the surface.”

The earth pony ghoul concluded the story; “We stayed here, fearing what any regular ponies might think of us. However, when other ghouls started showing up, we felt obligated to lend them a hoof they weren't likely to find elsewhere, and occasionally some... mercy. Grew into a regular necropolis once the word started spreading amongst ghouls out in the wastes.”

I nodded slowly, taking in everything the ghoulish guards had told us. After an unfortunate accident in Stable Twelve, Trottingham had become a sort of haven for ghoul ponies, who were largely shunned and feared by the rest of the ponies on the surface. The possibility that it could be a haven for May and I as well was not lost on me. Especially when the sane ghoul population here would give May plenty of opportunities to study other cases of the condition, and maybe even turn her hope for treatment into a reality. I could tell just by looking at her that May was thinking the same thing.

“I don't suppose you have a doctor here who's been studying the ghoul condition?” enquired May.

The unicorn buck shook his head; “Used to, but not anymore. Doctor Fixit studied the development of the condition for a while, along with the regular progression of radiation sickness. Sadly, he went crazy after turning ghoul himself. Any research he might have documented would be stuck down in the Stable clinic with him.”

May was noticeably disappointed by this news, but undaunted. “Would it be possible to retrieve his research?”

“You got a death wish?” interjected the earth ghoul. “Zombies attack anything that moves, except for other zombies. Even other ghouls if they're not also feral. It's like they can smell fear or something. There's a good three hundred of 'em down in the sewers and Stable.”

That certainly put a damper on that. I heard May curse under her breath. “Regardless,” the unicorn ghoul cut back in, “if you're looking to stay for a while, then you should go talk to Sheriff Rottingtail. He's more or less in charge around here, and likes to be introduced to any and all newcomers.”

“Is there anything we should know before heading in?” I asked plaintively.

“Same as any other town really. We keep things civilized here, and Rottingtail told us never to turn away any of our own. Just don't go stirring up trouble.”

***

After our conversation outside the city, the two ghoul guards escorted May and I through the gate, then provided directions to the Sheriff's office. Walking through the town, I felt strangely relieved. Everywhere I looked there were other ghoul ponies, and unlike my previous encounters with them, these ones were all still sane. Before, I had begun to worry that May and I were the only ghouls that weren't insane, or that it was only a matter of time until we lost our minds as well. Perhaps the loss of a ghouls mind had something to do with how they handled the transformation. At the very least, having a community definitely seemed to have a beneficial impact. I could feel that much myself.

Upon finding the Sheriff's office, I suddenly felt that May and I would have been able to do it without directions fairly easily. It was the only scrap metal building with two stories, and there was a rather large wooden sign out front declaring that this was indeed the 'Sheriff's Shanty'. The door was fashioned after an old time frontier door; venetian wood and capable of swinging both inwards and out. It vaguely reminded me of our brief stop in Appleoosa, except that the old frontier town was actually in sturdier shape than this place.

Pushing past the door, we found the front room of the Sheriff's office unoccupied. There was sound coming from the room in the back that I could almost mistake for snoring. Of course, ghouls didn't really need sleep, so the thought of one taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon... turned out to be completely accurate. The back room was empty, save for a hammock and the pony sleeping on it. It was an earth pony ghoul, wearing a stetson that was tipped over his face and a vest that was adorned with a silver, star shaped sheriff's badge.

May politely rapped on the open door with a hoof. “Sheriff... Rottingtail, was it?”

The snoozing ghoul let out a loud snore and rolled over on his hammock. Considering that ghouls didn't need to sleep, it was quite odd to see one sleeping so soundly. May and I both tried knocking our hooves on the floor, trying to wake him. He made no response.

“Dangit, not this again,” came a voice from behind us. The voice was soft and childlike, but tinged with the gravelly quality that afflicted all ghouls. I turned to see a young ghoul colt (youngest ghoul I'd ever seen) standing behind us. “Uncle's always slackin' off.”

The young ghoul, who had a few scraps of green mane hanging over his forehead, trotted past May and I up to the hammock. “Ya gotta do it like this.” As he spoke, the colt reared up and bucked the hammock as hard as he could manage. The hammock spun comically in place, depositing its occupant roughly on the floor before flopping to a stop. The Sheriff's eyes rolled as he shook off the impact.

“Crumble,” grumbled the unseated stallion, his voice carrying a country twang similar to that of the colt, “how many times Ah gotta tell ya'll not t'wake me when Ah'm-”

“We got some newcomers,” cut in the colt, apparently named Crumble. “Saw 'em come in from the second floor window and figured somepony would need to buck ya outta yer nap.”

“Newcomers eh?” said Rottingtail, finally getting to his hooves. He turned to face May and I, taking in the sight of us. To my surprise, he whistled at us (this was all the more surprising because most ghouls don't have lips). “Well Ah'll be,” he remarked, “Ah guess I can forgive ya this time, considerin'.”

“Considering what, exactly?” I asked, curious about the sudden change in attitude.

“Why, considerin' that our newcomers are quite possibly the loveliest pair of ghoulettes I've seen in a good long while o'course,” replied the Sheriff.

May snorted derisively, but I found myself suddenly feeling very warm in the face. As I've stated before, I never settled down and had a family of my own, but that wasn't exactly for lack of trying. I had never been considered the prettiest mare around, but I wasn't ugly or anything, at least not before becoming a ghoul. I'd had coltfriends and relations before, but most of them never went anywhere in the long run. Ever since becoming a ghoul, I had figured such things were no longer feasible, so I suspect you can understand my shock at being dubbed 'lovely'.

However, I shook off the initial shock, convincing myself that his smarmy comment was just him being friendly. “So,” I began, trying to get my hooves back under me, “you're the one in charge around here?”

The stallion responded by plucking the hat off his head and sweeping is across his breast, bowing his head to me. “That Ah am, m'lady. Sheriff Lone Star, at your service.”

May looked at the Sheriff curiously; “I thought your name was Rottingtail.”

“It is, sorta,” replied the Sheriff, placing his hat back on his head. “Ah chose to go by Rottingtail after... this happened,” he gestured to himself, indicating his ghoulish physique. “However, in the company of kin, close friends and the ladies, I stick to the name pappy gave me. Got the idea from a few others 'round here who did the same.”

“You don't sound like you're from around here,” I observed casually.

“Ah ain't,” he said simply. “Ah actually hail from Appleoosa.” I winced as he mentioned the name, remembering what May and I had found there a week prior. “Stayed there a few days after the megaspells went off.”

“Why did you leave?” May asked. It seemed like a good thing that he had, otherwise he'd have died with the rest of them. However, considering what had happened to him, he was arguably not that much better off.

In response, Rottingtail pulled Crumble close to him with a hoof, the same one he he used to take off his hat. When I focused on his other hoof, it became evident why. His right foreleg was skeletal, the skin and muscles having been almost entirely flayed off by something. There were only faint amounts of muscle and sinew still holding it together; it was little better than a peg leg made out of bone. I found myself wondering if May could do something about it.

“This here is m'nephew,” stated Rottingtail, drawing my attention back to the conversation. “Apple Crumble's his name, son of my brother-in-law, Braeburn of the Apple Family. Ran the Appleoosa orchard before he became a bigwig at Ironshod. Lost contact with him when the spells hit.”

“So you went looking for him?” I supplied.

“Eeyup,” stated the stallion sheriff. “Was worried 'bout him and muh big sis, since they'd left Crumble in muh care to attend some big business meetin'. Left m'pappy, Sheriff Silver Star, in charge of the town. However, we got caught up in the thick of an irradiated sandstorm while crossin' the badlands, which is how we ended up ghoulified. I also got muh leg messed up shieldin' Crumble here from the worst o' it before we could find shelter.” Rottingtail gestured to his desiccated foreleg with his good one.

As Rottingtail told his story, an odd thought popped into my head. I wondered why I hadn't thought of it before, but I did say I wasn't the most clever of ponies. “Hold on,” I interjected. “If Apple Crumble was there with you forty years ago, how come he still looks like a colt?”

“Same reason you and I haven't died of old age;” stated May, looking at me like a foal caught napping in class. “I told you before that constant radiation exposure effectively halts the natural ageing process.”

“I know that,” I protested, “but you'd think that he still would have grown up a bit after all this time. When I first saw him, I thought he'd been born like that.” I grimaced internally; the thought of being born a ghoul was not a pleasant one to consider.

“Nope,” refuted Rottingtail; “Can't be born a ghoul. Din'cha know? We're all barren.”

***

I don't know how long I sat in Rottingtail's office, staring blankly at the ghoul stallion. It had been a long time since I'd been in a relationship, and longer still since I'd thought of settling down and starting a family. The prospect had not been in my head at all since becoming a ghoul, but still... being suddenly and bluntly told that it was never going to happen hurt on a deep level. More than I could have possibly anticipated. I slumped to the floor and wrapped my forelegs over my head, not wanting any of them to see me crying about something that I really knew shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

May lay down next to me and place a leg across my shoulders. Had she known about this and never told me? Or had she, like me, not even considered the possibility? It didn't really matter; I wasn't mad at her, or even at Rottingtail. I was just sad, and I appreciated May's attempt at comforting me. I was glad that she wasn't upset by Rottingtail's declaration, but that was probably for different reasons.

“I'm sorry,” I stated a few minutes later, picking myself up off the floor.

“Ya'll got nothin' to be sorry fer,” stated Rottingtail, tipping his hat to me. “If anythin', Ah'm sorry Ah went blurtin' somethin' like that out without thinkin' that it might hurt yer feelin's. Guess Ah live up to muh new name.”

“Everypony else here knew already,” stated May, defending the sheriff. “You couldn't have known any better. If anything, I should have told her about it a long time ago. I just had other things on my mind, and it seemed trivial.”

“It is trivial,” I said, though my eyes were still red and puffy. My lazy one slid down absently. “I just wasn't expecting it. Caught me by surprise, that's all. It's not like anypony would want to have kids with me now anyways.” I smiled weakly at my own poor attempt at humour. I just didn't want the others to beat themselves up about it so much.

May wrapped her forehooves around me in a hug; “Still, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”

“It's okay,” I said, wrapping my forelegs around her, returning the hug. I wanted to make sure she knew I didn't blame her.

“Still,” cut in Rottingtail after May and I let go of each other, “Ah feel ashamed of muhself fer hurtin' yer feelin's, even unintentionally.” He strode towards the door, gesturing for May and I to follow. “So, allow me to give ya'll the grand tour. It ain't much, but it's all ours.”

***

Rottingtail's grand tour was indeed a tour, although describing it as grand might have been a stretch. There wasn't much to the Trottingham ghoul settlement. A number of scrap metal shacks served as housing for the hundred and change ghouls that lived there. They occasionally ventured into the intact city center to scavenge things from the Ministry buildings, but otherwise spent most of their time down here. There was a smithy where a few of the ghouls worked on the scavenged items and build the metal parts of their homes, although they didn't tend to build new shacks unless they had new residents.

There was a water pump where we stopped for a drink. The well was not that deep, the water coming it irradiated, although that didn't really matter for ghouls. However, I was in the mood for something with a bit more flavour. Rottingtail led May and I to a small... cafe would be a charitable description. Watering Hole worked better, especially considering that was its name. May noted upon our arrival that it was close to the ponyhole Gizmo had marked as closest to Stable Twelve's entrance.

Rottingtail, May and I seated ourselves inside the Watering Hole at a small table. I was surprised (and a little thrilled) when the barkeep brought us each over a bottle of Sparkle~Cola RAD! “Found a cartload of this stuff in the city center,” Rottingtail explained. “I think it was heading for a bigger city when the spell went off, leaving it here for us.”

May politely declined the RAD (I remembered her saying she didn't like radishes), and was given a bottle of the regular carrot flavoured cola instead. As we sat and enjoyed our drinks, we exchanged stories. May and I told him about our travels through the wasteland, her documentation of the effects of radiation on animals and her studies on the ghoul condition. Rottingtail gave her credit for trying, but he seemed sceptical towards the idea of a cure. He seemed more interested in the psychology aspects of treating ghouls.

“Sad truth is,” stated the Sheriff, “any time somepony round here starts to go, it falls on me to put 'em to rest. Can't have 'em goin' round chewin' on those of us who are still sane.”

“That's terrible,” I claimed, remembering a number of times I had been faced with the need to kill our feral kin.

“Indeed,” chimed in May, “which is why I've been trying to study the mental degradation as well as the physical malignancies. We shouldn't have to live with a sword over our head like that.”

“Yer damn right we shouldn't,” barked Rottingtail. “So if somepony starts to slip, we've tried to council 'em first, but only been one time that actually worked, and even then it only delayed things. The rest of the times its a matter of safety. Plus, we want to set ourselves apart from those who have lost their minds. Way too many smoothcoats can't be bothered to make the distinction.”

“Smoothcoats?” I enquired. I had never heard that term before.

“Y'know, breathers, normies,” Rottingtail attempted to explain. I looked at him, nonplussed. “Slang for non-ghouls,” he finally stated. “Popped up around here a while back; practically a part of our vocabulary. Most folk 'round here are a bit resentful of those who ain't cursed like we are. Not all of 'em are bad though, like that Ranger fellow who came here a couple months back.”

“Gizmo?” I asked. I was sure it was him, but wanted confirmation. “He's an old friend of ours, and was the one who told us to come here.”

Rottingtail nodded. “His name were somethin' like that, yeah. Most of his lot don't look well on us, but he seemed a decent feller. Promised to keep this place beneath the notice of his more radical associates.”

The mentioning of old friends brought two new discussions to the table. The first was Rottingtail's story. He explained how he and Crumble had ventured away from Appleoosa in search of Braeburn and Sliver Sand, his elder sister and mother of Apple Crumble. They had chased after rumours and hints from a number of Ironshod facilities, but had come up empty in the end. Most likely, the two had been killed, and would probably never be found. After that, he had taken in Crumble as his own and brought him here to Trottingham.

The other topic was Stables, with May drawing the conversation back to them in order to see if a venture was possible. “Yer nuts, y'know that right?” chortled Rottingtail.

“I know it's risky, but the research of Doctor Fixit alone would be worth it,” retorted May. “He studied the process as it was happening with proper medical equipment. The insight it might give could go a long way in helping all ghouls.”

Rottingtail smirked; “Hold on there pardner, Ah didn't say Ah disagree. Ah've been wantin' to get down there muhself, if only so I could put to rest the unfortunate souls stuck down there.” He gestured to his desiccated leg, only the shoulder of which he could actually move freely. “Ah just weren't in fit shape to do it alone, and most of the folks up here ain't interested in lendin' a hoof. It's grim work, and they don't like thinkin' about what they might become. But with ya'll here, Ah reckon Ah got some proper support.”

“So you'll do it?” May's eyes shone with a tinge of hope that I hadn't seen in some time.

“You bet Ah will, just gotta go get properly equipped.”

The three of us got up from the table, having finished out drinks a while back, and moved to depart the Watering Hole. Before I could make it out the door, a voice on the radio brought me to a stop. I had barely noticed the radio had been on before, having heard all the songs countless times. They tended to blend in with the background noise, but the voice of DJ P0N-3 always caught my attention.

“Good afternoon fillies and gentlecolts, this is DJ P0N-3 and I think you know what time it is. Got reports from the area of Fillydelphia about a group of ponies clad in old MWT magical power armour helping to relocate residents of a Stable outside the city. Seems like one of them helped protect this Stable from another bandit incursion like the one near Hoofstomp. They seem to be a good lot, but I'm always a bit wary about ponies with that much firepower. Don't mind me though, I'm probably just paranoid.”

I smirked; this time she was talking about Gizmo. May and I didn't get a mention, but I couldn't really blame remix. Gizmo had been the real hero.

“And speaking of Hoofstomp, I've got more news about their local heroine, the Iron Mare. As you know, she's been venturin' through the wastes helpin' the pony folk. What's she done now you ask? Oh, not much, just fought off a whole flock of manticores! She ran into a gaggle of them outside Stalliongrad lookin' to make a meal out of the town. However, she's currently holed up there with a bad case of manticore poisoning. All our hopes go out to her; which I'm sure will be enough to get her up and around again in no time.”

I was pleased to hear about the further actions of heroism of the Iron Mare (whoever she was), but it was unfortunate to hear that she had been left in grave condition as a result. May had already left the building, so it seemed she didn't hear. I'd tell her about it later, ignoring the manticore poisoning part until she was confirmed as getting better. Just before stepping outside, I rushed back to the barkeep and grabbed another couple Sparkle~Cola RADs to go, slipping them into my saddlebags as I exited the Watering Hole.

***

I found May waiting at the ponyhole cover that would take us down into the Trottingham sewers, and then into the Stable. I was feeling invigorated from the RAD I had drank, and offered one of the others I had grabbed to May. She declined again, but I didn't mind. More for me. Or maybe Rottingtail would want it, either way. Rottingtail had gone back to the Sheriff's office to retrieve something. I presumed it was armament, since going into a hostile area unarmed was just stupid.

While we waited for Rottingtail to return, a few of the passing ghouls gave us odd looks. I gave one of my own when the oddest ghoul I had ever seen stopped to look at us (or glare, by the look in her eyes). It was immediately apparent that she wasn't a pony, but it took me a little while to figure out that she was a griffon. Even then she was strange; she was wearing combat armour that almost seemed fused to her decrepit flesh and feathers, with blades on the tips of her wings likewise melded. Her eyes had an odd pink sheen to them. Catching the staring, the griffon ghoul snorted and stretched out her large, malformed wings, flying off. A small puff of pink vapour escaped her beak when she did.

“Don't mind her,” came the voice of Rottingtail, pulling my attention away from the strange ghoul. “She's never really pleasant.”

May and I turned to look at Sheriff Rottingtail, now looking much more deserving of his title. He had exchanged his vest for armoured barding, although he still had the silver star badge pinned to it. He still had his hat, but was now equipped with a battle saddle. On either side was a lever-action repeater rifle. There was also a quick draw holster at his shoulder that seemed to be built into the saddle. An ivory handled revolver stuck out from it. It looked to be marked with the symbols found on playing cards.

“So,” smirked Rottingtail, “like what you see? Custom ordered for the Sheriff of Appleoosa from Ironshod Firearms. Braeburn 'imself had this made for my pappy, then he passed it on t'me.”

“It is rather impressive,” I stated, knowing full well that Ironshod's custom pieces were always top notch. At present, I had Stronghoof's rifle strapped to my back. Strong and sturdy, but nowhere near as fast as a revolver or repeater rifle.

May floated out That Gun and checked it's load. Rottingtail let out an impressed whistle (I was honestly a little jealous that he could do that) at the gun. May smirked at him and re-holstered the revolver. “So, here's the plan,” she stated firmly. “We should head to the clinic first. The medical supplies there and Doctor Fixit's documentation should be prioritized.”

“Ah reckon that'll work,” agreed Rottingtail, nodding affirmatively, “but we gotta get through the zombies down there first. Ah've got the most firepower, so Ah should probably lead the way. Can't run too fast though, cuz of muh bad leg. Can one of ya'll cover me?”

“I have a bit of a different idea, actually,” said May. She looked a little unsure, but I motioned for her to go on. “There are about three hundred ghouls down there, according to the guards we spoke to earlier. With only three of us, even against mindless zombies, that's not a good ratio. Not to mention the fact that once we start shooting it'll probably bring the rest of them stampeding after us.”

“Hadn't thoughta that,” muttered Stronghoof, placing his good hoof on his chin.

“Did you have something in mind?” I asked, hoping May had a way to handle three hundred feral ghouls safely.

“Hiding in plain sight,” she said with a smirk. “We're all ghouls too; we look and smell pretty much the same. However, we can still think for ourselves, and that is our best advantage. If we move amongst the zombies with the same shambling they do, and without speaking, we might be able to get past unnoticed.”

“As much as that sounds clever,” interjected Rottingtail, “zombies still attack sane ghouls.”

“I think they only attack what's different,” countered May, “which is why they don't attack each other. So, if they don't perceive us as being different, they'll leave us alone. I've been looking for an opportunity to try this out,” she admitted. “If it doesn't work, there should be enough room in the sewers to run and gun until we can get back to the surface.”

Run and gun didn't seem like such a good idea, considering I couldn't gun and Rottingtail couldn't really run. “If it would help, I can stay back and cover you guys while you try to sneak in.” I nodded to the rifle on my back. “I'm only really good in a fight if I can use the scope.” My lazy eye drifted as if on cue. “If it works, I can follow you in.”

May gave me a relieved smile. “Thanks Ditzy.” She took a deep breath, then lit up her horn with magic light, removing the ponyhole cover and setting it aside. “Alright, let's do this.”

***

May made her way down the ladder into the sewers on her own. Rottingtail attempted to climb down as well, but his bony leg was stiff, causing him to slip when it caught on the ladder. I flew down into the sewer after him and caught him, setting him down gently He smirked awkwardly and thanked me quietly for the catch. The interior of the sewers was fairly spacious, enough for me to hover in the air above May and Rottingtail. I was glad for this, since it allowed me to move more quietly than on hoof.

The sewers were huge, round tunnels, with a shallow, sloughing stream of water at the bottom. Along either side was a ledge that would have previously been used by workers. The top of the tunnels housed water pipes and electrical cables, all of which were long out of use since the destruction of the old city. The smell of sewage, when mixed with the decayed flesh of the zombies, assaulted my nose. The size and shape of the tunnels carried sound well, and although there were no zombies immediately around us, the sounds of their shuffling and moaning reached my ears. Thankfully, the dim emergency lights hanging above us provided enough illumination to make our way around.

Sticking to May's plan, she and Rottingtail began to walk slowly through the sewer tunnels. May shambled forward, deliberately dragging one of her hind legs. She opened her muzzle and let her tongue hang out, a low rumble coming out of her throat. Rottingtail didn't need to fake a limp, his desiccated foreleg providing enough of one to be convincing. I flew to the upper part of the tunnel, hoping that the zombie ponies wouldn't be looking up. I took Stronghoof's rifle off my back and grasped it in my mouth, closing my lazy eye and following May and Rottingtail through the scope.

I watched through the rifle scope, focusing on May and Rottingtail as they shuffled through the sewer, rounding a bend. Not too far ahead, according to Gizmo's information, was the entrance to Stable Twelve. I started moving ahead when my friends rounded the corner. Thanks to the quietness of my flight, I was able to move ahead quickly enough that the other two ghouls didn't stay out of my sight for long.

When I got around the bend, I could finally see the zombie ponies that inhabited the sewers and Stable. There was about a dozen of them milling around. Despite their attempts at matching the shambling movements of the zombies, May and Rottingtail looked grossly out of place. May's holster and saddle packs, and Rottingtail's battle saddle seemed painfully obvious. I lined up the cross-hairs of the rifle with the closest zombie pony, keeping my tongue close to the trigger. May and Rottingtail shambled past it... and kept walking. The zombie pony shambled across their path behind them without taking notice. It looked like May's plan was working. Sadly, good things never seem to last in the Equestrian Wasteland.

May and Rottingtail made it past four of the zombies in the tunnel when I looked up in front of them. I could see the entrance to Stable Twelve up ahead, the massive steel door hanging half open. A loud thud drew my attention back to my friends. Rottingtail had caught his bad leg on something and tripped, slamming face first into the sewer floor. All of the zombies, and May, immediately turned to stare at him.

“Thuk,” I muttered under my breath, the rifle occluding what I meant to say. I brought the rifle up, training the scope on the zombie closest to Rottingtail. If they charged him, I wasn't going to give them a chance to get to him before he could get back up and start shooting back.

Rottingtail slowly picked himself back up, several clicks echoing as his rifles loaded. A few of the zombies took tentative steps towards him. May matched their movements, trying to remain unnoticed. Through my scope, I saw the sheriff smirk. With a movement that was surprisingly fast, he snatched the revolver out of its holster and fired off six shots in rapid succession, felling the two closest zombies, including the one I had been aiming at.

The other zombies roared out together, running towards the gunslinger ghoul. He was just as quick re-holstering his weapon as he turned on the zombies that were charging him. He bit down firmly on the bit of his battle saddle, causing his rifles to fire off alternating shots. I counted eleven sets of shots before he stopped, kicking his saddle to start it reloading. Three more zombies fell, viscous blood oozing from their wounds.

Next to him, May had drawn out That Gun. Her movements were slow and precise, unlike Rottingtail's erratic firing. I could tell she was using S.A.T.S., picking off two more of the zombies with precise shots to the head. Wanting to do my part, I followed one of the zombies charging towards Rottingtail with the rifle's scope. I tongued the trigger, a sharp crack echoing through the tunnels. A gaping hole was ripped in the torso of the zombie I had shot, dropping it in a spray of blood and rotten flesh. The recoil from the shot threw my head back, knocking it against the roof of the sewer. My eyes spun in their sockets.

By the time I recovered from getting knocked in the head, Rottingtail had killed off the remaining zombies with another volley from his repeater rifles. There weren't any more coming, at least not immediately, so I flew down to where my friends were standing, waiting anxiously for more zombies.

“That went well,” nickered May.

“Muh own fault,” claimed Rottingtail, sounding disappointed with himself. He glared at his bad leg; “Can't do nothin' with this bum club.”

“Are you two alright?” I asked, setting down next to Rottingtail.

“We're not hurt,” replied May, “but it looks like my plan is a bust.”

“Not entirely,” I said, trying to reassure her. “It was working, and we might be able to use it in the future.”

“Not if Ah'm around,” sneered Rottingtail. “Can't do nothin' right cept shootin'.”

I placed a reassuring hoof on the buck's shoulder. “We would have had to end up fighting eventually. We just wanted to try being sneaky to make it easier on ourselves. Besides, your quick shooting will probably be of more use than May or I when it comes to that.”

Rottingtail gave a small smirk. “Fastest shot in Appleoosa, next to m'pappy anyways.” Dropping the smirk, he looked around at the corpses of the dozen zombies we had put down. He let out a sigh. “Once this is taken care of, I wanna see their bodies properly laid to rest. Ah may not be from 'round here, but Ah got friends in the town whose kin are down here. They deserved better'n this.”

I felt slightly shamed by Rottingtail's comment. May and I hadn't gotten around to telling him about Appleoosa yet, and the fact that we hadn't done anything for ponies that might be Rottingtail's kin weighed on me. I didn't like feeling guilty, especially when it might get in the way of what we came down here to do. “Lone Star, there's something we should tell you...”

***

Rottingtail took the news about Appleoosa better than I expected. “Ah can't say Ah'm too thrilled about it,” he muttered, “but after this long I weren't expectin' muh pappy or any of muh old friends to still be around. It's a damn shame, especially 'bout the youngins, but Ah don't hold nothin' against you two fer it.”

“Still,” I commented, looking away from Rottingtail (my lazy eye rolled back towards him), “I feel like we could have done more.”

“Ya'll were thinkin' bout helping folks what were still livin',” Rottingtail noted. “Just like yer tryin' t' help the folks 'round here. Ah can respect that.” He shot me a small smile. I returned it. “It's the way things are out here, like it or not. You gals are plenty good in muh book.”

May rolled her eyes, turning to face the Stable door ahead. She seemed to be using her E.F.S. to check for other zombies nearby, although I could never really be sure without a Pipbuck of my own.

“What's got her tail in a twist?” Rottingtail asked, leaning in close to me.

“Oh it's not you, don't worry,” I said, letting out a soft chuckle. “She just has eyes for mares only, that's all.”

“Oh, so her barn door swings th'other way,” muttered the buck. “Shoulda figured that'd be the only way somepony could resist muh charms.”

I snickered at that. It was a little odd, considering the unintentional hurt he had caused not two hours past. May turned back around, looking at us with a mix of wry amusement and slight irritation. She chose not to comment on our banter. “C'mon, the entrance hall is clear. We should see if we can get information on where the ghouls are inside.”

I blushed a little before falling in behind May. Rottingtail followed beside me, smirking. She led us in slowly, scanning the immediate area inside the Stable. May's Pipbuck began to click more loudly, indicating that the radiation was more concentrated inside the confines of the shelter. The entrance hall was clear, but the open doors on either side carried the low moaning sounds of nearby zombie ponies. May floated That Gun out silently, but apparently the zombies in here hadn't noticed us yet. It struck me as a little odd that they were so oblivious to the gunfight we had put on outside.

My lazy eye drifted of its own accord again, this time settling on the door to the right of the entrance hall. As I caught sight of it, a zombie stumbled through, bashing its head on the door frame a few times before managing to canter into the entrance. It stopped briefly, looking at the three of us, all standing stark still. Without moving, May floated That Gun towards the zombie. It watched the gun, drawn to the sight of movement. May moved the gun towards the zombies, although now it followed the telekinetic light back to May's horn. Before it could react, May pressed the pistol into the zombie's temple and pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was muffled by the zombies flesh as the shot tore into its head. It dropped to the floor with a meaty thud.

I let out a breath I had been holding when no other zombies immediately swarmed us. May looked to the room that one had come from. If the Stable's layout was anything like sixty-Seven, then that room might hold a security terminal that we could use to scout the rest of the Stable. Without saying anything, May clopped a hoof on the floor twice. I could only assume that meant she saw two more zombies in the room on her E.F.S.

“Ditzy, come with me,” May whispered, “Rottingtail, you guard the door while we're taking a look. Try not to shoot unless you have to though, we don't want the entire Stable coming at us at once.”

Rottingtail nodded wordlessly, then moved behind me as the three of us approached the side room. His bony hoof made soft clanging sound as he walked on the metal Stable floor. May slipped in first, dispatching the two zombies quickly with S.A.T.S., then moved beyond the door. I flew in after her as quietly as I could. Rottingtail brought up the rear, turning to cover the door with his twin rifles.

There was indeed a terminal in this room, and May was tapping the keys with her magic. “Horse apples,” she muttered, “it's locked.”

“Can you get in?” I asked. I didn't know much about terminals, having only ever used them a few times. Gizmo had gotten past a secured terminal

“I can try,” May said a bit reluctantly, “but I'm nowhere near Gizmo's level. We'll be lucky if I don't break it.”

I tried to give May an encouraging smile as she worked the terminal. She spend a few minutes just staring at it, as if that would help. Maybe it did, because after that she tapped the keys and made a soft whinny of amusement. “How about that,” she nickered, “the password was 'pony'. I don't think they were trying very hard.”

“Or maybe they just didn't think it needed to be all that secure,” I suggested with a shrug.

May chuckled and pulled up the Stable layout from the terminal. As it turns out, it was remarkably similar to Stable Sixty-Seven, at least at a glance. That made sense really; too much variation would compromise the integrity of the shelters. “The medical bay is a little larger than Sixty-Seven,” remarked May. Not identical though, it would seem. “Maybe this one was meant to stay closed longer, if the door hadn't malfunctioned.”

May poked around at the terminal for a few minutes more, pulling up the information she wanted. She then drew Rottingtail into the small room, closing the door with a hiss behind him. The room felt rather cramped with the three of us in here, and the claustrophobia I felt in Stable Sixty-Seven started to creep up on me again. Hopefully May had a plan that wouldn't take too long to explain.

“It's not that far to the clinic,” she noted, “but there's a good number of zombies between here and there. I would have thought about sneaking through before, but that didn't go so well. Going in guns blazing would be bad too, since it could bring more of them down on us than we could handle.”

“Where's the biggest herd of zombies?” asked Rottingtail. “Ah reckon if we take out a bunch of 'em all at once, it'll make dealin' with the rest of 'em easier. Especially if we bottleneck 'em somewhere.”

“We could do both,” I suggested. May and Rottingtail both looked at me like I had just exploded. “May was good enough at fooling the zombies on her own, so maybe she could sneak towards the clinic. At the same time, Rottingtail and I could start taking care of the zombies somewhere else and draw them away from you.”

Rottingtail smirked at me. “Did I mention lately that yer crazy?”

***

It turns out that the largest concentration of zombie ponies was in the Stable atrium. It always seemed to be a center for activity, living up to its name even under the most morose situations. The security information May had pulled from the terminal indicated that of the close to two hundred fifty zombies in the Stable, a hundred or so of which were in the atrium. There were another two dozen along the way there that Rottingtail and I would have to deal with.

There was one thing working in our favour though; the zombies seemed to have difficulty with the pressurized doors of the Stable. We discovered this when we found the body of one crushed down the middle under a closed door. If a group of zombies tried to rush us, we could 'bottleneck' them, as Rottingtail had called it, simply by closing doors. Numbers don't have as much meaning in confined spaces. I just had to hope the confined spaces wouldn't inhibit me as well.

As we moved further into the Stable, the low whine of the lights was joined by a faint grinding noise that seemed to be coming from the lower levels. The lights themselves were flickering erratically. “Prolly a busted generator,” suggested Rottingtail. “Not surprisin', considerin' it hasn't gotten any maintenance in a few decades.”

I nodded silently. I was flying slowly, making as little noise as possible. It almost felt like a wasted effort when Rottingtail made a rapping sound with each step of his bad leg. The ceiling was annoyingly low; clearly these Stables had not been designed with pegasi in mind. That thought struck me as a little odd, considering the Stables were meant to save as many ponies as possible. Had there been different Stables specifically for pegasus ponies? Or had Stable-Tec simply thought that the fliers would do... exactly what they had done. Strange.

Rottingtail gave a soft chuckle; “Yer thinkin' too hard about somethin'.”

“Wha?” was all I said, not sure what he meant.

“That eye of yours seems to wander more when your mind does,” he noted.

Did it? I had never really noticed. I was about to object when Rottingtail rounded a corner and immediately tensed. I flew as close to the ceiling as I could and rounded the corner, hovering above him. It was immediately apparent why he had frozen. There was a zombie in the hall, but it was just a colt. Not only that, but a few strands of its mane that hung off the back of its head were the same colour as Apple Crumble's. I had not been expecting to find foals down here.

The zombie colt was walking across the hallway directly in front of Rottingtail, growling softly. I wasn't sure if it had noticed him. The sheriff's mouth was just in front of the bit of his battle saddle, but he wasn't moving. I didn't think he could. There was a look of confusion in his eyes, and I felt for him. I wondered if any of the ferals he had put down before were children. My heart wrenched uncomfortably; nopony deserved this.

My thoughts were derailed when the zombie colt finally seemed to notice Rottingtail. It observed him momentarily before letting out a gurgling growl and lunging at him. It clamped its muzzle down hard on Rottingtail's good leg, eliciting a pained yelp from my new friend. The act snapped him out of his daze, and he started shooting, but the colt was too close to hit with his rifles. He flailed around, trying to loose the zombie colt, while reaching for the holster that held his revolver.

I brought up the rifle, scope to my eye. Rottingtail was thrashing around too much for me to get a clear shot. I moved the crosshairs to the sheriff's left and tongue the trigger, hoping for the best. The shot rang out with a crack that reverberated through my skull. The zombie was torn roughly from Rottingtail as the shot struck its flank, blood oozing from the torn flesh of the bite. Ever so briefly, I found myself wondering if that colt had gotten his cutie mark yet. It didn't matter now, as the colts body lay ruptured and dead from the powerful shot.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to lament my actions, as the crack of Stronghoof's rifle would have alerted every zombie in the vicinity to our presence. I quickly flew down to Rottingtail, who was hunched over on his knees. The flesh torn from his good leg made it just as useless as his skeletal one. I had to grab him around the middle and drag him into the nearby room. I hit the switch to shut the door as soon as we were inside, just in time for it to close as a zombie lunged at as. It collided with the closed door with a resounding thud.

***

We were in a bathroom. There were, mercifully, no zombies in here right now, but one previously occupying the room had knocked over most of the stall dividers in its mindless shambling. I dropped the rifle and quickly threw open my saddlebags. I grumbled that I only had one healing potion left, along with the two bottles of Sparkle~Cola RAD. I extracted the potion and handed it off to Rottingtail, who drank it slowly. I watched as his wound began to close, the green light of radiation regeneration joining the healing potion's magic. May had said that the radiation would be more concentrated in confined areas.

“Thanks fer that,” muttered Rottingtail, gingerly testing his mended leg. He decided against standing up, and stretched his legs out in front of him for now.

“I just wish I had more,” I groused, “that was my last one. Hopefully May doesn't mind stocking up in the clinic.”

Rottingtail nodded towards the wall of the bathroom, near the door. “Check in there.” He was referring to a medical box hanging on the wall. The pink and yellow box had a dent in it that looked about the shape of a zombie pony's head.

I trotted over to the box and flicked it open. “Damnit,” I muttered, upon seeing that it contained no healing potions. There were some bandages, a pair of tweezers, and a bottle of pills marked 'Buck'. I wasn't sure what it was, but I had seen a similar bottle in May's supplies once. I shoved the entire contents into my saddlebags to give to May later.

“That buck might come in handy,” noted Rottingtail, “in case either of us needs a quick boost.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I said simply. I then turned back to face the door. Faint pounding sounds could be heard from the outside. The zombies had seen us come in, and although they couldn't operate the door, it was only a matter of time until one of them hit the release button inadvertently. “Got any ideas?”

“Ah've got a bad one,” smirked Rottingtail, “but Ah reckon that's better'n nothin'.” Rottingtail scooted backwards through the bathroom until his rump hit the rear wall. He slowly got to his hooves, a bit wobbly between his recently mended leg and his desiccated one.

After picking up the rifle again, I flew to the back of the room. The ceiling was a bit higher than the hallway, to my moderate relief. I cocked the gun, then asked; “Wuff naw?”

Rottingtail snickered at my inability to talk with a gun in my mouth. I glared at him with my good eye, then he relented. “When the door opens, I'll start shootin'. You pick off any that slip out of my line of fire.”

I nodded, pressing my good eye to the scope and closing my lazy one. It took a few minutes, but one of the zombies finally hit the release, opening the door with a pneumatic hiss. The noise and movement startled the zombies closest to the door, who jumped back. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Rottingtail unloaded into them. He fired off eleven shots, felling the three zombies closest to the door. If I was hearing correctly, all the shots came from the same rifle. I heard reloading clicks as he opened fire with the opposite one.

Rottingtail's rapid firing thinned out the zombies that had congregated outside the bathroom, about a dozen of them from what I could see. Five were now dead, and the others were stumbling over each other trying to get into the room at us. This wasn't helped by the fact that they tried to squeeze through the door two and three at a time. Rottingtail made short work of three more zombies, their bodies piling in a heap at the door.

For a moment, I thought that was the end of it. Then, two more zombie ponies leapt over the pile of corpses into the bathroom. One of them sprawled roughly into the already damaged stalls, breaking the walls down entirely. The other landed a little more surely, before quickly turning towards Rottingtail. Before it could get far, the Sheriff had drawn his revolver with the same speed I had seen before, unloading the gun into it. Before the last one could get up, I fired off a shot into its torso.

Rottingtail re-holstered his revolver and smiled up at me. “Nopony gets past the fastest guns in Appleoosa.” His smiled faded when to looked at the pile of zombie ponies he had killed. He didn't say anything else.

I set down on the floor next to him, slipping Stronghoof's rifle onto my back. I placed a hoof on his shoulder. “I'm sure they would thank you,” I said, trying to make him feel better. “I know I wouldn't want to keep living as a mindless zombie.”

Rottingtail shook his head. “I know; I wouldn't either, but it shouldn't have come to this in the first place.”

***

After the bathroom brawl, Rottingtail and I resumed our trek through the Stable, seeking out the atrium. The bathroom we had been in was on the level above the atrium entrance, and a nearby floor plan showed us the quickest way down. We managed to take care of another half dozen zombie ponies on our way down. Along with the ones from the sewer and bathroom, thirty had been taken care of; about a tenth of those Stable dwellers that had become feral. Thankfully, there weren't any rushing us when we reached the door to the atrium. According to May, there were nearly a hundred zombies inside.

“Think you're quick enough for this?” I asked, peeking into the atrium through a thick glass window. The zombies were trapped inside by the same door problem, and were shuffling about aimlessly.

“Shouldn't need t'be,” Rottingtail replied. As I watched, he slipped his muzzle into a pocket on his barding. He pulled out two familiar looking metal apples, holding them by the stems. He set them down on the floor, kicking one over to me. “Ah hate doin' somethin' like this, but it's th'only way we can take this many at once.”

I looked down at the grenade at my hooves. Nearly two weeks ago one just like it had nearly killed May and I. My hind legs got uncomfortably itchy thinking about it. I was a little wary about using one myself. “Are you sure about this?”

“Nope,” he admitted, “don't got much skill with 'em, but Ah figure in this case it's not really requisite. Just toss and pray.”

I nodded warily. “Alright then, on the count of three.”

I picked up the grenade by the stem in my teeth, then inched closer to the atrium door. I raised a forehoof and tapped on the wall next to the entrance. Once... twice... on the third tap I slammed my hoof against the release for the door, which hissed open. As soon as it was all the way open, I tossed my head to the side forcibly, the grenade flying free of its stem. Rottingtail did the same, and the two metal apples flew into the room. I immediately hit the door release again, slamming it shut. I'm not sure how much the zombies inside noticed, given how quickly it all went down. Moments later, the inside of the atrium was filled with the roaring thunder of two explosions, and brilliant flashes of light.

When the explosions subsided, the sound of zombie ponies screeching could be heard. It was loud enough to rattle the atrium windows, one of which had been cracked by a flying piece of what used to be a table. It was difficult to tell how many were left for the panicked scurrying of the zombies. I could see bits of the dead ones all over the places, splattered and scorched. There were even a few still twitching on the ground as they slowly succumbed to shrapnel wounds. A few more were trampled by other zombies in the confusion.

“There's still a bunch left,” I declared, not committing a concrete figure.

“None too many Ah hope,” replied Rottingtail. “We gotta clear this lot out before more come runnin' after that big kaboom.” Rottingtail moved to cover the door, his mouth less than an inch from the bit of his battle saddle. “Once ya open the door, fly in and start pickin' 'em off. The noise of yer rifle'll keep 'em confused from above... Ah think. Ah'll gun down as many as Ah can.”

I nodded to Rottingtail and took Stronghoof's rifle in my mouth again. I lifted myself off the floor and hovered just above Rottingtail. He clamped down on the bit of his battle saddle just as I hit the door release. He started shooting as I flew into the room, thankful for the high ceiling. I flew up until I was just about touching the lighting strip, brought the scope to my eye and started picking targets.

***

The battle in the atrium lasted only a few minutes. The panicked and confused zombies were easy to dispatch, although I had a bit of a hard time hitting targets because they were moving around so much. After that, Rottingtail and I had barricaded ourselves inside using one of the tables, and used the cover to dispatch another few dozen that were drawn in by the explosions and gunfire. Only one had gotten through, and it had managed to gouge a chunk out of my shoulder before Rottingtail had downed it.

“We should head to the clinic,” I stated firmly. “If May's made it there, she'll have healing potions to take care of this.”

“Ah know,” refuted Rottingtail, “but we can't go while you're bleedin' like that.” Dark, viscous blood stained the flesh around the wound, seeping slowly down my leg.

“I have those bandages,” I reminded him. “Pull them out and do what you can.”

Rottingtail nodded and moved around to my saddlebags, pulling open the one I had stashed the bandages in. To my surprise, he also pulled out the bottle of Sparkle~Cola RAD and the bottle of pills. “Take one of these,” he said, shoving the buck over to me, “it'll keep ya alert so ya don't faint or nothin'.”

I nodded, prying the lid off with my teeth. I slipped one of the small orange tablets out with my tongue, chewed and swallowed it. Before I could do anything else, I yelped in pain. Rottingtail had poured half the bottle of soda directly onto the wound. I gritted my teeth and bit back a scream, but I stopped before I could yell at Rottingtail. As I watched, the rosy glow of the irradiated cola mixed with the soft green of radiation regeneration. The bleeding slowed as the flesh knit partway back together. I looked at Rottingtail with a mix of confusion and awe.

“Learned that trick after tusslin' with a group o' bandits,” Rottingtail explained. He offered me the rest of the soda to drink as he began wrapping my shoulder in gauze.

I downed the radish flavoured cola quickly, glad to have something to wash the bitter taste of the buck pill from my mouth. “I'll have to remember that one,” I said, setting the bottle aside.

Rottingtail tied off the bandage around my shoulder. Hopefully the trace amounts of magic in it would finish what radiation and radishes had started. If not, we were headed to the clinic next anyways to meet up with May. In the mean while, the rush of energy from both the irradiated soda and the tablet of buck was enough to get me back in the air.

Rottingtail and I slowly but surely made our way back through the Stable towards the clinic. The zombies had been thinned out a fair bit now, making our travel much safer. We encountered a few more along the way, but they were easy to dispatch. It was nice not to have a herd of them come running each time we killed one too. It was the only nice part though; I'd seen enough zombie corpses to last a lifetime.

When Rottingtail and I reached the clinic, we found two more corpses. One of them was wearing a tattered and bloody lab coat. I could only presume it was Doctor Fixit. The other looked to be an adolescent mare, at least physically. They had both been shot a number of times, by That Gun from the looks of it. Unfortunately, upon entering the clinic, May was nowhere to be found. A number of medicine cabinets had been cleared out, and the terminal was active, indicating that she had been here.

“Ain't safe fer her t'be wanderin' off,” muttered Rottingtail, “even if she is better at sneakin'.”

“Well, she got what we came here for,” I replied. Out of curiosity, I trotted over to the terminal. There was a message flashing at the bottom:

Data Transferred to Local Device

Above the flashing message were a number of log entries. There were dozens of them, all of which I presumed May had downloaded into her Pipbuck. However, there were three entries highlighted. May had sampled a few before downloading them. I hit the button to play the first one. I was met with the voice of a buck with the Trottingham accent.

Entry #1

This is Doctor Fixit recording the first of what I hope won't be many documentations of cases of radiation sickness here in Stable Twelve. At first I thought it was ludicrous; the Stables were designed precisely to protect against this sort of thing. Unfortunately, the Overmare confirmed that the main door did indeed malfunction when the Stable sealed. She has the maintenance ponies looking into it, and is preparing an address for the rest of the Stable population. There are six hundred ponies down here, and they might all die because of half an inch. I've always known Stable-Tec to be reliable, so hopefully this is just some random fluke that we can fix quickly before it starts causing more problems.

In the meantime, I have a supply of RadAway that will hopefully keep the sickness from getting too severe. Stable-Tec seems to have covered for any and all possibilities. The first dose has been administered to Ratchet, the maintenance pony who discovered the problem with the door. He suffered minor exposure, but came here quickly and hasn't suffered any severe illness. He'll be rejoining the efforts to fix the malfunction tomorrow.

I let out a sigh; knowing full well that the maintenance ponies had not managed to fix the problem. Still, hopefully some good could come of it. I played the next highlighted entry.

Entry #28

Ratchet passed away last night due to complications from continuous radiation exposure. Let it show that he spent more time working on fixing the door these past four weeks than anypony else. His body is awaiting cremation pending the completion of proper funeral services. At this point, I'm wondering if they'll have to tear the whole Stable apart to find the damn problem.

In other developments, three more ponies, Glimmer, Girder and Indigo, have shown signs of the odd cellular mutation I noted in Entry #23. The afflicted ponies are suffering most of the same symptoms of radiation exposure; hair loss, diminished physique, etc. However, their vitals remain more stable, relatively speaking, than those without the mutation. I wonder if there might be a way to induce this effect; it might be able to keep the other ponies in better condition until I can find more viable treatments.

It sounded like that was right around the time that Doctor Fixit discovered the ghoul mutation. May had talked about it, although I really didn't understand a lot of the jargon she used. The last highlighted entry was from a few weeks later.

Entry # 43

The Overmare approached me this morning with some rather grim news. She had a recording left for her from the Vice-President of Stable-Tec. Suffice to say the contents were horrific when coupled with a revelation the Overmare had regarding the status of Trottingham above. Apparently the zebra megaspell that hit the city wasn't a standard yield. For whatever reason, the one that struck the city of Trottingham had less explosive force and more magical radiation. Overmare speculated about different isotopes decaying more rapidly, but it's a bit too late to care about why if you ask me. Fuck.

So, thanks to the shortsightedness of Stable-Tec and their little oversight, we're all going to die down here. Thanks a lot fuckers. Still, I'm going to continue studying the condition that has arisen in those who have the previously noted mutation, as well as those who do not. Perhaps if someday, somepony comes down here looking to salvage this tomb, they'll be able to make use of this information. I find it morosely amusing that I am also exhibiting signs of this mutation. I get to live a bit longer and study this shit while everypony else is dying from it.

“What in the hell was all that about?” groused Rottingtail. He tipped his hat back with a hoof and scratched his head, loosing a bit of dried skin.

I was equally confused; “I don't know, but I think I know where May went to find out.”

***

The Overmare's office wasn't too far from the clinic; we just had to pass through the security level. We encountered no living zombies as we passed though, May had seen to that. It was easy enough to follow her trail, and we arrived at the Overmare's quarters within a few minutes. May had put down a number of zombies here as well, which I could only assume were the Overmare and her family. Their living quarters and offices were all in the same area of the Stable.

We found May laying in the Overmare's office. There was an empty inhaler beside her and she had that glazed look in her eyes. “Not this again,” I grumbled. Along with my usual irritation, she had decided to dash off in a potentially dangerous situation. At least before she had done it alone and in relatively safe places.

“Erm,” muttered Rottingtail, not sure what to say. “Ah didn't know she was a huff- a dash user.”

I shook my head; “She started shortly after the megaspells, but she's been doing it more frequently as of late. She does it whenever she feels the need to get away from the shit of the wasteland. Says she can go back to the Equestria that was.”

“Well Ah ain't lookin' to judge,” remarked the ghoul Sheriff. “Haven't known her long enough t'say fairly. Accordin' to you though, somethin' must be eatin' her.”

I glanced to May's other hoof, where an audio recorder sat. The last entry I had read in the clinic mentioned a message from the VP of Stable-Tec, and that it had unfortunate implications regarding what had happened down here. I walked over to it and hit the playback button, if only to try and understand why May had felt it necessary to indulge herself in such a dangerous situation.

“Hello!

“My name is Scootaloo. You probably know me (since I am pretty famous) for my awesome performances at events like last year's GALLoPS, or maybe just as the founder of Red Racer.

“Right now, I'm talking to you as the Vice-President of Stable-Tec. You have been appointed as Overmare of a Stable-Tec life-preserving Stable. You have been chosen for your sense of loyalty and duty, both to this company and to the ponies around you. And while Stable-Tec may be gone, our ideals live on.

“Your Stable has been selected to participate in a vital research project. The first goal of your Stable, like all others, is to save the lives of the ponies inside. But you also have a higher purpose beyond saving the lives of individual ponies. We here at Stable-Tec know that in the event of the worst case scenario... which, if you're hearing this, has already happened. Damnit. Anyways, in the event of the worst case scenario, the ponies saved by the Stables may have to endure a twisted and irradiated Equestria that will be grossly inhospitable. So, we need to know before the Stables open whether or not we can take it. If we can't...

“...

“The door of this Stable has been rigged to not shut properly upon sealing. It will remain open by half an inch, allowing moderate amounts of radiation to bleed into the Stable. Based on previous research into the effects of magical radiation, studies of megaspell test detonations and thousands of hours of other research studies, we have accounted for well over a hundred possible variables in calculating for this test. The door will remain jammed for six weeks, and a supply of RadAway equal to Two-Hundred percent of what we calculate as being necessary has been stored in this Stable's clinic. You are to instruct your acting physician to study the effects of long term, non-fatal radiation exposure on the ponies of this Stable.

“In the event of unforeseen complications, there is a backup. The lowermost levels of the Stable are equipped with extra thick separations, which will allow the Stable population to retreat there if radiation saturation exceeds survivable levels. This will also prevent the underground orchard form being contaminated... we hope.

“...you probably think I'm a monster right now, don't you? Well, you're right. I am. Please take solace in the fact that, if you're hearing this, I probably got exactly what I deserved. I am so, so sorry...

“Good luck to all of you, and may somepony up there have pity on us all.”

My stomache twisted in knots, and the rest of my insides felt like they were on fire. My eyes were burning from tears born of a mix of anger and sorrow. I noticed that May's spaced out eyes were also red and puffy. Rottingtail had a look of angry disgust on his face. I lay down next to May, glancing at the empty dash inhaler. Just this once, I couldn't be mad at her.

***

When May came to, she knew that we had listened to the recording. We vowed not to share it with the survivors of the Stable; they didn't need to know. They had suffered enough, and lost too many of their friends and loved ones. This knowledge would only further harm their lucidity, the very thing we had originally come down here to help preserve. May personally made sure that the audio recording was destroyed, and deleted a few of Doctor Fixit's entries that made mention of it. It was a tough choice, but I think she made the right one, for what it's worth.

With the research and medical supplies in tow, the three of us returned to the surface. Many of the residents of Trottingham seemed surprised that we had survived. Afterwards, Rottingtail led a group of the town's guards down there, along with May and myself, to take care of the remaining zombies and salvage what they could from the Stable. Most of it was personal belongings, but the Stable's water talisman was also recovered. Thankfully, it had been in a more heavily shielded part of the Stable, and was untainted.

What came next was the gruesome and painful task of recovering the bodies. Nopony bothered to try identifying them; nopony really wanted to. Not when they were riddled full of bullets, or torn apart from explosions. Those who had lost friends and family wanted to remember them as they were before they were mindless zombies. Instead, the population documentation on the Overmare's terminal provided a roster for everypony who had not simply died of radiation poisoning. May downloaded the record into her Pipbuck as a sort of memorial.

The bodies were brought to the surface, the grizzly task taking all afternoon. The bodies were separated into three groups; Mares, Stallions and children. The separate groups each had a pyre constructed around them, and the bodies were burned en mass that night.

May, Rottingtail and I sat watching the pyres burn together. All around us, ghouls wept and sighed and prayed. Many were also thankful though, glad to see the unfortunate souls laid to rest. They were also grateful to the three of us for braving the Stable, both for that, and for the things we had recovered. Some even dared to have hope that things might get better for the ghouls thanks to us. With what the three of us knew, we weren't really in the mood to be thanked.

“I've been thinking,” said May, gazing at the nearby pyre. It was the smallest of the three; the one for the children that had become zombies. Aside from Apple Crumble, there were only three young ghouls that had survived the transformation.

“About what?” I asked. My lazy eye rolled up, following the massive billows of smoke from the three pyres as they drifted up, until they became indistinguishable from the endless cloud cover.

“All this time down in the Stables,” muttered May, “the ponies down there, particularly those born underground, have no idea what the sun, moon, stars or sky look like.” May glanced at me, her gaze sad yet stern. “I want to see them again.”

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderately-high

Ghoul Tip: Friendship is magic, so keep your friends close. Having someone there to support you keeps the madness away better than you might think. Also, never underestimate the healing potential of hugs.

Bonus Perk Added: Like a Buck to the Face (Rank 2) – You really like Sparkle~Cola RAD! As well, the radiation contained within is beneficial to your ghoulish physiology. In addition to previous effects, consumption of Sparkle~Cola RAD! will restore HP equal to 50% of a regular healing potion.

Rottingtail's S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength: 5

Perception: 6

Endurance: 7

Charisma: 2

Intelligence: 5

Agility: 7 (reflexes, perks and skills; -3 penalty applied to movement speed)

Luck: 8

Chapter 8: The Stolen Sky

Chapter 8: The Stolen Sky

“The pony in my head tried to come up with an epitaph, but no lewd reference to the Goddesses could match the profanity of that event.”

Faith.

I know that many of you out there in the wasteland turn to the Goddesses Celestia and Luna for guidance during troubled times. Your faith in them becomes an anchor that helps keep you strong. However, this coming tale describes images, events and conversations that may be upsetting to the more devout ponies out there. For that reason, I felt the need to warn you ahead of time. The events described here did happen, and were witnessed by me, so I feel I must apologize in advance to any who take offence. If a certain toaster repair pony has gotten her hooves on this book, then I can only say you would be glad you weren't there to see it for yourself.

***

After the events of Stable Twelve, May, Rottingtail and I were mentally and physically exhausted. I wondered if May's wish to see the sky was born of of weariness. I insisted that we all get some rest, although I suspected that May intended to spend the night going through Doctor Fixit's journal entries. Rottingtail had a couple of spare rooms in the sheriff's office that he offered for us to use, along with his thanks for helping to clear the Stable. I didn't really want to be thanked for it though.

I didn't really sleep that night either. Most of the rest of the town was awake (since ghouls don't need to sleep), and the distant sounds of their various nighttime activities reached me as I lay on an old military cot. I was also being kept awake by my own thoughts of what happened down in Stable Twelve. I knew Scootaloo; I had often witnessed the antics of her and the other Cutie Mark Crusaders (as they used to call themselves) when they were little fillies back in Ponyville. What had happened to her? To all of them? Of course, I already knew the answer.

The war had happened. Things had gone from bad to worse alarmingly fast, twisting Equestria, neigh, the entire world down to its very core. A memory came to mind, one from before the war started. It had been one of my encounters with the Ministry Mares. They were being sent as diplomats to the Buffalo after the incident with the Wonderbolts and Zebra gem pirates. Ironshod Firearms was just starting up around that time. I remembered volunteering to look after Fluttershy's animals while she was away. That day had been a good day. Was that when it all started? It was so long ago and everything after seemed like such a blur.

The war, the Littlehorn Massacre, the death of Big Macintosh, the escalating arms race, the megaspell holocaust, the closing of the sky; it had all slipped out of our hooves before we even realized it. Was there any chance it could have been stopped? Not that it mattered now. Forty years after the war ended, Equestria was still suffering the lingering effects. Things would never go back to the way they had been. I knew that, and so did May. Just about anypony else alive right now (that wasn't a ghoul) wouldn't even remember the time before Equestria was a wasteland.

The gears in my head (a bit squeaky at times, but still functional) turned over these thoughts as I lay restlessly on that cot. It was becoming clear to me why May often felt the need to go back though dash to the times before. As well, her desire to see the sky again rang true; it was perhaps the greatest thing we had lost to the war, after our innocence and the lives of so many ponies. I couldn't bring the sky back; I had no idea what my kin were doing up there, or if they were still up there at all. I had been at peace with that idea ever since I became a ghoul. But maybe, just maybe, I could borrow it for a little while.

***

At some point, I had managed to fall asleep, and awoke the following morning. When I awoke, I could hear faint sounds coming from the room next door; the one May had stayed in. I trotted over and found her (called it) listening to the journal entries she had taken from Stable Twelve. As soon as I entered the room, she looked up from her Pipbuck, giving me a weak smile. She paused the recording and stood up, trotting over to me.

“Anything helpful yet?” I asked tentatively.

May shook her head; “Not yet, but I've only been through about half of them.” She gave me a sympathetic look; “How are you holding up?”

“I've been better,” I admitted. I was torn up inside by what had transpired down in the Stable. Despite the fact that Scootaloo's mistake had cost most of the Stable's population their lives, I didn't want to be mad at her. It was the war's fault, and blaming any one pony wasn't going to make anything better. “I could use some cheering up.”

“Well, Rottingtail seemed to be available,” May said with too straight a face.

It took me a moment to register what she had said. “What?!” I exclaimed. Was she joking? Or did she really think that was what I meant.

“Sorry, was that in bad taste?” May asked, looking apologetic. “I didn't mean to offend or anything.”

“It's not that,” I said, waving a hoof in negation. My face was hot with embarrassment. “It just came out of nowhere, that's all.” I gave an awkward smile.

May smirked, “Well, at least you're smiling now.” She placed a hoof on my shoulder. “That smile of yours is a wonderful thing, don't ever lose it.”

“You seem to be in a better mood yourself,” I noted, turning the conversation around.

May held up her Pipbuck, scrolling through the data on it. “I took a break from reading over the journals last night and caught this on DJ P0N-3's broadcast.” She tapped the arcano-tech device and a recording of a newscast played back.

“Good evening wasteland, this is DJ P0N-3 and I've got some late news for you night owls out there. Remember how I told you about the Iron Mare and how she saved Stalliongrad? Well, some no-good-nicks out there heard about it, and went lookin' for trouble. Witnesses speculate that they were chummy with the bandits she routed at the Stable near Hoofstomp, and were looking for revenge. They seemed to think that the time was perfect, since she was out of commission due to manticore poisoning.”

“Well, the good folks of Stalliongrad disagreed. When the bandits came knockin', demanding they turn over the Iron Mare, the entire town stood up in her defense. Sent those ruffians packin' with their tails between their legs. This is the sort of shit I love to see children; when somepony helps you, you help them in return. If more ponies out there get that through their heads, there might be hope for us after all. I'm gonna turn in for now, but I'll catch ya'll later. Here's some Sweetie Belle to sing you off to sleep...”

The recording cut out, and May smiled at me. I had forgotten to tell her about the incident with the manticores after getting caught up with the Stable. “Manticore poisoning can be treated with anti-venom,” she noted, “so she'll be alright. I'm just glad to hear that there are others willing to follow her example.”

I found that I was feeling better after hearing that too. “I've got some more good news for you.”

“Oh?” asked May, looking curious.

“I've been thinking about what you asked last night,” I began, “and I've made my decision.”

***

“Have Ah mentioned that ya'll are crazy?” came the skeptical voice of Rottingtail. After informing May that I had thought of a way to see the sky again, we had found the ghoul town's sheriff in his office (asleep on that hammock again), and told him we were planning to leave.

“I won't deny that I'm a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes,” I retorted, “but May thinks it'll work too.”

The plan was simple enough. Near the spot where Cloudsdale used to be, there was a range of mountains. Those mountains contained the very same valley where I was on the day of the megaspell holocaust. It wasn't the most pleasant memory, but it was also what led to my meeting May for in the first place. Within that range were a few peaks and plateaus that managed to reach above the cloud ceiling. I would fly May up to one of those crags so that we could see the sky again for a little while, before coming back down. The only thing I was counting on was that any pegasi living up there hadn't moved back into the surrounding area.

“Do ya plan on carryin' her all the way there?” Rottingtail asked dubiously.

“Of course not,” I nickered. “We've got a ride.”

After informing Rottingtail of the cart I had used to bring May here in the first place, I exited the Sheriff's Shanty and flew over the wall surrounding the town. I set down near the old cart and hitched myself back up to it, before flying back into town with it in tow. May and Rottingtail were waiting for me near the irradiated well, and I set down gently next to them.

“Tad-ah!” I said mock grandiosely, gesturing to the old, worn cart.

As I detached myself from the harness, Rottingtail gave the cart a look over. He snickered loudly when he saw May's safety harness. May harrumphed, but said nothing. “Well, that could work. Thing is, Ah see two problems.”

“Oh?” remarked May, looking confused.

“First o' all,” said the Sheriff, a smirk on his face, “that old cart's lookin' on the verge of collapse. Second, with that fancy harness ya got rigged up, there ain't room fer more'n one passenger.”

May and I exchanged curious glances. “Were you wanting to join us?” I asked. That took me by surprise, considering he had balked at the idea minutes earlier.

“After a fashion,” he replied. “We don't know what's up there in the sky right now, and Ah'd be a right poor stallion if'n Ah let ya go up there without a proper escort.”

“We can handle ourselves,” May nickered.

“Weren't sayin' different,” rebutted Rottingtail, “but Ah'd feel better if Ah was there with ya, 'specially after ya'll helped me out yesterday. There's more,” added the cowpony. “Apple Crumble. When he was just a little feller, he always loved campin out in the badlands, lookin' up at the stars at night. He ain't been able to in a long time, and if ya'll are lookin' to sneak a peak at the sky, then Ah know he'd wanna join ya. He may be pushin' fifty, but his body and mind are still those of a colt.”

I smiled gently at Rottingtail; “You're more than welcome to join us Lone Star, but did you have something else in mind for our transportation arrangements?”

“As a matter o'fact...”

***

Rottingtail led me out of the shanty town the ghouls had constructed, and into the core of the old city of Trottingham. The only things still standing were the large skyscrapers that had once been ministry hubs, as well as a few smaller buildings nestled in between them. One such building was a grocery store, parked in front of which was a delivery wagon for Sparkle~Cola. It was scorched black by the megaspell fires, but the logo of a stylized carrot was still just barely visible through the grime. According to Rottingtail, this was the same wagon that The Watering Hole had gotten its supply of Sparkle~Cola RAD from.

Upon giving the wagon a look over, I noticed that it was very similar to my old wagon, the one I had used for 'Ditzy Doo Deliveries'. However, unlike mine, this one had not been in flight when the megaspells went off, and the frame was still entirely intact. Curiosity drove me to crawl underneath it, and I was delighted to see that it had the same type of array that magically reduced the weight, which would make it more than suitable for carrying the other three up the mountain.

I came out from under the wagon and turned to Rottingtial. “Do you have any spark batteries? The array is intact, but the batteries are dead.”

Rottingtail placed his good hoof on his chin. “Ah think Clank might have some; she was gatherin' stuff from the maintenance section of the Stable yesterday.”

“Alright, but for now I'm going to need your help moving this thing.”

Rottingtail and I went to hitch ourselves up to the front of the wagon, only to find that it had no harness. I could only assume it had been burned to ash by the megaspell. A small part of my mind insisted on adding that it might have been vaporized along with the pony pulling it. I did not need that right now. Instead, I focused on moving the wagon. Rottingtail and I moved around behind it and started to push. The wheels were stiff with decades of rust, but after a few heaves they started to turn.

***

Rottingtail and I managed to get the Sparkle~Cola wagon back to the ghoul shanty town, although it took a couple hours. Upon our arrival, Rottingtail set off to find Clank and hopefully procure some spark batteries for it. As well, May went off to find Apple Crumble and tell him what we were doing. While they were away, I set my sights on fixing up the wagon. I couldn't do much about the wheels, but they wouldn't matter once we were in the air. Instead, I focused on replacing the harness, transferring the one from the old cart. The delivery wagon was fully enclosed, so I wouldn't have to worry about rigging a new safety restraint for May or the others.

While working on the cart, I was approached by the strange griffon ghoul that had been staring at May and I the day before. She looked at the wagon, then turned to me. “So, I hear you dweebs are planning to head up and see the sky.”

I looked up from my work on the harness, surprised that she (I'm pretty sure it was a she anyways) was talking to me after the way she'd flown off the day before. “Yes,” I replied simply.

The griffon ghoul scoffed. “You got a death wish?” She gestured at me with a talon. It looked to be fused with some kind of strange arcano-tec device in the same way the armour she wore was fused to her flesh. “The skies are no place for a bunch of lame brain ponies like you.”

I did not like this griffon's attitude, but what she said did concern me slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You got bad ears to go along with that bad eye of yours?” snarled the griffon. “You go above the clouds, and you're dead. The featherbrains don't let anything from the surface contaminate their little utopia.”

In spite of the griffon's harsh words, my ears shot up. “You mean the other pegasus ponies are still alive up there?” I blurted out.

The griffon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and they've got themselves a nice little isolationist attitude now, so don't think they'll let you just waltz on in. Maybe you'll get lucky and they'll take you in for experiments.”

I didn't like this griffon, not in the slightest. I was quite relieved when Rottingtail returned, with May and Apple Crumble in tow, at which point she decided to fly off again. “Hope she weren't givin' ya too much trouble,” claimed the Sheriff apologetically.

“She's got a serious attitude problem,” I muttered.

“What's her story?” asked May curiously. “She's not like any other ghoul I've ever seen.”

“Welp, I don't know too much fer sure,” replied Rottingtail, “mainly cuz she don't talk t'anypony 'cept to belittle 'em. I can say fer sure that she is, or at least was, a Talon Mercenary. The armour's a dead giveaway.”

“Talons?” balked May, her expression becoming stern. “From what I was told back at the MoP, they're a bunch of cutthroats who would do absolutely anything, so long as they were paid for it.”

“Most of the time, yeah,” muttered Rottingtail, “although you'll occasionally meet one with principles. Can't say much for her though. Don't even know her name. She showed up here about thirty-five years ago, lookin' like she'd gone through a thresher. Not to mention the weird way her armour and weapons were fused to her body.”

“I was wondering about that,” cut in May. “What could have possibly caused something like that?”

“Canterlot,” replied the Sheriff, somewhat unevenly.

May and I exclaimed our disbelief in unison. May knew of the megaspell that had destroyed the former Equestrian capital city, and I had learned about it from her. Its lethality was second to nothing, so the prospect of someone who had survived exposure was alarming. Although, I would later learn that the griffon was in fact the second Canterlot ghoul I had encountered. The first one I'm sure you're already familiar with.

“Eeyup,” affirmed Rottingtail. “After a few years, that pink gas stuff started to thin out, so Ah was told. Doesn't kill ya right away, but its still right nasty. Muh theory is that she went into the city after somethin', but weren't quick enough. Didn't die, but weren't really alive no more neither. Kinda like us, but not quite.”

“Remarkable,” said May, taking me by surprise. “Do you think she'd let me study this phenomenon?”

“Don't count on it,” sneered the cowcolt, “she comes back here every so often, but she spends most of her time out lookin' fer stuff t'fight. Dunno why, although Ah do sometimes hear her grumblin' about 'her'.”

“Her?” I asked warily.

“Muh guess is she had a rival back durin' the war who didn't make it,” he speculated. “Or maybe she lost and was lookin' fer a rematch. She never says nothin', so Ah can't say fer certain.”

Our discussion was interrupted by an impatient interjection from Apple Crumble; “Uncle, you said Derpy was gonna take us to see the stars!”

Rottingtail turned on his nephew and shushed him loudly. “Crumble, you know it ain't nice t'call folks names. 'Specially a lady.”

“It's alright,” I said, waving a hoof in defence of the colt. It wasn't the first time I'd been called that. “I've been called worse. Besides, he has a point.”

Rottingtail relented, then pulled a bag out of his saddlepack. “Hope this is enough,” he said, handing the sack of spark batteries to me.

“Plenty,” I replied with a smile. My lazy eye began to roll again, but I forced it to look straight as I moved to the wagon to change out the batteries. “Let's get this show on the road.”

***

Flying with the delivery wagon in tow brought back some pleasantly nostalgic memories. It took me back to a simpler time; before everything had gone so wrong. The feeling of the wind in my mane (what was left of it anyways), and the familiar drag of the wagon behind me made me feel like it was just another day in my old job, although I wasn't normally in the habit of delivering ponies. Still, I enjoyed the sensation. I could occasionally hear snippets of conversation coming from the enclosed wagon, my passengers passing the time (and in May's case, keeping her mind off the height we were flying at). The occasional snore suggested Rottingtail was spending his time napping.

I had been flying for most of a full day now, but I was in no rush. Getting exhausted before reaching our destination could have unfortunate consequences. At my current speed, we were still a couple hours away from the mountain range. Wary of what the griffon had said, I decided to fly beneath the cloud curtain until I reached the plateau. I was starting to get bored though, and looking up at the solid grey clouds the whole time wasn't helping.

I kicked at the wagon behind me with a hoof. A moment later, a small viewing window slid open, May peeking out of it. “Hey Ditzy,” she called, sounding a little shaky.

“You hanging on alright back there?” I already knew the answer, but was looking to wedge myself into the conversation.

“More or less,” came May's reply. She hastily added; “How much longer?”

“Still another couple hours at least,” I replied earnestly. May muttered something inaudible, and I couldn't help but snicker. “How are Lone Star and Crumble doing?”

“Rottingtail's taking a nap,” said May with a touch of bitterness. “Honestly, I don't know how he does it. Ghouls don't need to sleep, but he spends most of his time that way.”

I chuckled; “Maybe he's just doing it so he doesn't have to admit to being afraid of flying.”

May changed topics remarkably fast after that; “Crumble's pretty excited to see the stars...” I heard Apple Crumble's voice from somewhere behind May. “He wants to know if we'll see any other pegasus ponies while we're up here.”

The smile faded from my face; I had been hoping to avoid that topic. Mostly because my feelings on the matter were conflicted. While I would have liked to see my kin again, the odds of such an encounter being a peaceful one were slim, especially if the words of that griffon held any water. At best, we would be trespassers. At worst, we were mutated contaminants and a stark reminder of why they had isolated themselves in the first place. I had chosen the location we were headed towards largely out of a desire to avoid contact with other pegasi, counting on the area around where Cloudsdale used to be being deserted.

I finally settled on an answer, one that hopefully wouldn't be too disappointing. “Probably not; between lingering radiation from the megaspell that destroyed Cloudsdale and unpleasant memories, I'd wager they avoid the area entirely.”

If May suspected my other reasoning, she didn't say anything. I heard her saying something else to Crumble, but it was lost as a sudden gust of wind battered me. It wasn't strong enough to push me back or knock me off course, but the trace scent of ozone was carried with it. Squinting, I tried to look as far ahead as I could. There was a massive cell of darker clouds looming in front of us, and the distant roll of thunder told me they were highly charged. Moments later, rain began to pelt me, cold and stinging with the wind that was picking up.

“This isn't good,” I grumbled to myself. Another roll of thunder, this one much closer, punctuated my thoughts.

“I heard thunder,” called May from within the wagon. It was hard to hear her over the shrill winds that were whipping around my head. “Are you doing alright up there?”

“For the moment,” I called back, somewhat less than honestly. The winds were beginning to push hard enough that it was impeding my flying. The huge cell of black clouds drew closer, and a flash of lighting tore across the sky before me.

“Can we get around it?” Asked May, shouting this time.

“No!” I called back.

The winds were too harsh and the storm cell was massive for me to get around, and I wasn't fast enough to get us away from it by going back. Worse still, we were in a flying lightning magnet; a metal delivery wagon powered by spark batteries was just asking to get zapped. Another bolt struck close enough to blind me for a moment, cementing my fears. As much as I didn't want to do so ahead of schedule, I couldn't see any other choice. I was going to have to push above the clouds.

“May, can you float the three of you off the floor?” I asked, having to yell to be heard over the winds. “You really need to not be touching any part of the wagon.”

“I can try,” May replied, “but that kind of telekinesis requires a lot of energy. Even if I can manage it, it won't be for long.”

“Just hang on tight, this is gonna be a bumpy ride!” My lazy eye rolled back, catching the glow of May's horn, bright enough to illuminate the entire wagon. I really hoped she could hold on long enough.

Without wasting another moment, I banked sharply upwards. I could hear May groaning from the strain, not helped by the constant shifting of the wagon itself. Seconds later I hit the cloud ceiling, punching into the thick clouds with as much force as I could muster. I kicked away at clouds in front of me while beating my featherless wings furiously. Even inside the clouds the wind was ridiculous, making me curse my lack of flying prowess.

Small bursts of static filled the clouds surrounding me, making the few hairs left on my body stand on end. A bolt of lightning discharged from a cloud directly in front of me just as I was about to kick it away, singeing the tip of my hoof. The smell of my burnt rotten flesh was lost to the wind and rain. The bolt passed inches away from the wagon behind me. I grunted, straining to get all the speed I could muster. The harness groaned in protest.

Another lightning bolt came, this time striking the wagons hitch beam on my right. I felt the charge pass through me, greatly thankful for a natural resilience to shocks (although I had been struck by lightning more often than any other pegasus I knew, so maybe I was just an odd case). Unfortunately, that resilience was not shared by my companions. I heard a shriek from May and three rapid thumps; she had been caught by the shock, and had dropped the others onto the wagon's rear door. Another hit like that and they'd all be electrocuted. I pushed forward...

Then, as suddenly as it had all started, it was over. I burst through the top of the cloud ceiling, and had to shield my eyes from the brilliance of the sun. Sadly, I had no time to enjoy the sight as I righted the wagon. Had I taken the time to properly observe the sky, I might have noticed the moon sneaking up on a path behind it. Instead, I looked back to the wagon's viewing window, hearing my three passengers roll onto the floor. I heard the distinctive 'thunk' of Rottingtail's bony leg as he stood up, groaning loudly.

“Never liked flying,” he grumbled. I could see him moving through the window.

“How are the others?” I demanded.

“Crumble bonked his head on the rear door, but he ain't even unconscious,” replied the Sheriff. “May's out of it, but I'm gonna feed her a healin' potion. Anythin' other'n that is beyond my knowledge of medicine.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She couldn't lift herself and us at the same time.” His next words were spoken around something in his mouth; presumably the potion he was pouring down May's throat. “Sho, she liffed us, bup noff hershelf.”

I let out a sigh of mixed relief and anxiety. I pulled the wagon forward, hoping to reach the plateau as quickly as possible so I could check on May. At least now that we were above the clouds, I didn't have anything more to fear from the storm. Unbeknownst to me, an alarm had triggered the moment I got above the clouds, and the four of us ghouls were due for some unpleasant company.

***

It took less than an hour for me to reach the mountain range that had been beneath the city of Cloudsdale. The trouble after that was finding a safe place to set down. I had underestimated the height of the cloud ceiling, which threw off my bearings. Only the tallest of peaks breached the clouds, and none of them had large, even plateaus for me to land on. I had to settle for a shelf that was barely double the width of the Sparkle~Cola wagon. I set my burden down as far from the ledge as possible. It was wide enough to hold all three of my companions safely, so long as I stayed airborne.

I detached myself from the harness and quickly flew around to the back of the wagon. The rear door had buckled slightly from the impact of its passengers, but the sturdy frame and heavy bolt had kept it from breaking off. I pulled the bolt loose and threw the door open. Rottingtail had Apple Crumble on his back, and trotted out of the wagon, allowing me enough room to get in. There would have been more room, but Rottingtail had insisted on wearing his battle saddle as a precaution.

May was laying on the floor of the enclosed wagon, conscious but looking rough. She opened her mouth to say something, but then had to quickly cover it. Before I could say anything, she had slipped past me to the edge of the shelf, vomiting into the gulf below. Once she had finished, she seemed to realize her precarious position, backing away from the ledge and falling onto her haunches.

“I'm never letting you fly me anywhere again,” she grumbled, wiping her muzzle.

“Have fun walking down the mountain then,” I quipped. Setting aside the sarcasm, I asked; “How are you doing?”

“Nothing too serious,” she replied calmly. “I checked myself over after I regained consciousness. I would have suffered some internal burns from the shock, but the healing potion prevented any permanent damage.” She cast an appreciative look at Rottingtail. He simply tipped his hat back and smirked in response.

I let out another sigh, this time in relief. “I was worried. I was never the best weather pony, and that storm came out of nowhere. If anything had happened to you I-”

“You got us through it alive,” interrupted May, smiling softly. “No need to worry about the alternatives.” She then turned her gaze away from me, looking up to the sky. “Now, since you were kind enough to bring me all the way up here, I intend to make the most-”

May stopped abruptly, causing me to wonder if she might have a concussion or something. She gestured at the sky behind me with a hoof, prompting me to turn around. I let out a loud gasp at what I saw. The sun was high in the sky, as it should have been, considering it was just past midday. However, the moon was right there in the sky next to it; a lost pet following what it thought to be its companion. Not only that, but they seemed strangely close to each other, almost like the moon was coming up from behind in a race.

“What...” started May, but she trailed off.

“That sure is a sight,” called Rottingtail, drawing my attention. “Never seen anythin' like it b'fore.”

Words finally came to me; “This is... wrong.” There really wasn't any better way to describe it. “Celestia raised the sun at dawn, and Luna brought out the moon at night. They've never shared the sky.”

Rottingtail turned to face May; “Ah reckon this is just some kinda fluke. Ah heard over the radio all those years ago that the Princesses were in a Stable under Canterlot. Kinda hard t'see the sun and moon underground, don'cha think?”

May shook her head; “It doesn't work like that. Even if Celestia and Luna couldn't see the sky, they would know when day and night are supposed to be. At the very least, they would know when the other had their celestial body aloft.”

“Then what...” I trailed off this time, watching the moon. It really did seem like it was getting closer to the sun, ever so slowly. I turned to face May, averting my eyes from the sight. My lazy one almost seemed drawn to the abnormal sight, rolling backwards. I couldn't think of what to ask, so I just stared at her blankly, hoping for an explanation.

May shook her head, looking distraught. “I can only really think of two possibilities, one of which I don't even want to consider.”

I suspected I already knew what that less pleasant possibility was. “What about the other one?”

“The Pink Cloud,” May said simply. “It's the single most lethal thing those zebra bastards ever made. A megaspell version would undoubtedly be orders of magnitude worse than what was used at Littlehorn.” May teared up as she spoke, and nearly choked on her words, but continued. “Princess Luna and Princess Celestia are far more durable than any other pony in existence, but even they have limits. The act of reaching the Stable, or even fleeing from Canterlot would have meant they'd suffer exposure.”

“We were never able to find out if the effects of the Pink Cloud could be neutralized or healed,” May concluded, “if only because nopony ever survived exposure. One of the MoP researchers under me felt that healing potions could prevent permanent damage. That was only accounting for minimal exposure though, and was based on a theory stemming from the composition of the spell itself. If the Princesses were exposed to the Pink Cloud at all, then they would substantially weakened. If that is the case, then its possible that their control over the moon and sun is likewise hindered.”

I gulped audibly, and went quiet. Nopony spoke, the silence weighing down on us like lead. We all looked back and forth at each other, then up at the sky. The sky that had been stolen from Equestria four decades ago now seemed alien when compared to the familiar, solid grey of the cloud ceiling. What would those living below think if all of them could see this? Probably a lot of what we were thinking right now. Some might even consider the worst possible scenario, which May tried to keep us from thinking about.

In that heavy silence, my ears shot up as sound carried on echoes reached my ears. “Tracking put it somewhere around here before it vanished,” came a voice that was not close, but not too distant either.

“Let's hurry this up,” came a reply. “This place gives me the creeps. Contrail keeps telling me that the ghosts of the ponies who died in Cloudsdale haunt the skies here.”

“Don't be foalish,” snapped the other voice. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”

The voices trailed off, probably blocked by another peak nearby. I looked over to my companions, and it was apparent that they had caught the voices as well. I lifted a hoof to my muzzle, motioning for them to stay quiet. “I'll go check it out,” I whispered, “wait here.”

May gave me a look that swiftly reminded me of their inability to do otherwise. Without dignifying the look, I flew away from the cliff and around the mountainside.

***

It took me a few minutes to find the voices again; they hadn't gotten that far off. From what I had heard from them before, it seemed that they had somehow known we were here, and were looking for us. If that was the case, I wanted to make sure they weren't going to start shooting the moment they found us. I stopped for a moment, realizing that I had neglected to bring Stronghoof's rifle. On second thought, that was probably for the best; they'd (probably) be less likely to shoot an unarmed flier. I also didn't want to shoot at them, even if they did fire first.

I flew slowly around a peak, catching snippets of conversation between the two I had overheard earlier. “That crevice is too small, the tracking station said it was bigger than two ponies.”

“Fine, but it would have to have gone into a cave or landed on a ledge somewhere, otherwise we wouldn't have lost track of it.”

As I came around the side of the mountain in front of me, I finally spotted the two pursuers. Both of them were pegasus ponies, but it took me a moment to realize that. They were clad in sleek black armour that resembled the carapace of an insect, even down to the compound eye goggles in the helmet. The glowing spike at the end of each of their tails and the gem tipped 'antennae' that formed their battle saddles suggested that, like the Steel Rangers' armour, theirs was magically powered.

Despite the quietness of my flying, the two armoured pegasi rounded on me the moment I had a clear view of them. I guessed that their armour came with the same kind of magical tracking that I had seen both Gizmo and May use before. “Halt!” called the first pegasus, a mare by the sound of her. Her armour was slightly different from her companion; anointed with gold filigree. “Identify yours-”

“Holy fuck!” shouted her companion, cutting her off. This pony was a stallion. “What in the hell IS that thing?”

Without waiting for an answer, the antenna weapons on his armour lit up, crackling with magical energy. They discharged, sending twin streams of pink energy straight at me. I immediately stopped flapping my wings, dropping like a rock just in time for the beams to zorch over the top of my head. If I'd still had a mane, it would have been burnt off. I raised my forelegs over my head and flew back up, hoping they would recognize the sign of surrender.

“Hold your fire Lieutenant,” demanded the mare, holding an armoured hoof out in front of her companion's still charged weapons.

“Contrail was right,” blabbered the stallion. “It's a zombie pony! A vengeful ghoul who died in Cloudsdale!”

“Don't be daft,” the mare called out. She then lashed with her armoured tail, thumping the Lieutenant on the head with the blunt of it. His weapons powered down moments later. She then turned back to me; “You are trespassing in Enclave airspace,” she said sternly. “Identify yourself immediately and explain your presence here. Falsities or hostile intentions will be met with lethal force. Understood?” The magical energy weapons on her armour crackled for emphasis.

I nodded warily. “My name is Ditzy Doo,” I managed. The mare's tone had me worried; the griffon had been right it would seem. “I was flying beneath the clouds when I ran into a storm that I couldn't get around. I came up through here to avoid it.”

“I wasn't aware that any pegasi still lived below the clouds,” mused the armoured mare.

“Why are you talking to it?” demanded the Lieutenant. The mare silenced him with a glare before addressing me again.

“I am Major Wingright, and this is Second Lieutenant Haywire,” she stated, a bit more amiable this time. Perhaps she was compensating for her partner's outbursts. “I have a few questions for you, after which we will escort you back below the cloud curtain. However, my previous warning about falsities and hostile actions stands. Are we clear?”

I gulped; if she asked anything about the others I might be in trouble. Would she see their presence as a contamination, like the griffon had suggested? Or would she think we were scouting for some kind of zombie uprising? I doubted the latter, considering she seemed to be fairly level headed. As well, she wasn't shooting at me yet. “Crystal,” I stated.

“First question,” began Wingright; “your emaciated physical condition, which caused my rather superstitious underling to think of you as a zombie, is a potential contaminant. What is its cause?”

“Severe magical radiation exposure,” I replied, breathing an internal sigh of relief. I didn't say anything about when and where I had gotten that exposure, hoping they wouldn't press the matter. I doubted they would believe me anyways.

“And that,” cut in Haywire, addressing his superior, “is why the high council keeps us up here. If this is what exposure to the surface can do, I'm glad we're not due to go back down yet.”

“Yet?” I asked tentatively. Haywire glared daggers at me through his visor, surprised by the apparent audacity of the question.

Wingwight on the other hoof, was willing to respond. “It is the Enclave's position that we pegasus ponies should wait until the surface becomes hospitable again before rejoining the rest of Equestria. Patrols are sent twice a year, but they usually only skim just below the clouds.” I could swear she smiled at me behind her helmet; “Frankly, I've been looking for an opportunity to get more direct information.”

Haywire sounded puzzled; “Ma'am, are you certain this is wise? The council-”

“At ease,” she replied. “I am gathering intel, nothing more. This pony is dessicated, unarmed and probably old to boot. I highly doubt she poses a threat.” Haywire said nothing else.

I may have been closing in on a century in age, but being called old still bothered me. However, I set it aside in favour of another question; “What's the Enclave?”

“Classified,” replied the Major sternly. “All you need to know is that we hold military authority up here.” I nodded, shrinking back. “One more question; are you alone?”

I was about to claim that I was, but then stopped. She had said something before about the thing they were tracking being bigger than a pony. If I claimed that I was alone, they might get suspicious. “I'm a courier and ferry on the surface,” I replied half-honestly. “I was flying with a wagon in tow when I ran into the storm. I passed through the clouds for the safety of my passengers. There are three of them; a mare, a stallion and a colt. They were looking to relocate.” For good measure I added; “They suffer from the same condition as I do.”

The Major raised an armoured hoof to her chin, contemplating my response. “Very well,” she stated after a few moments of pregnant silence. “Take us to these passengers of yours so we can verify your story. If there are no problems, we will see you back down below the clouds.”

I felt cautiously optimistic. The griffon had been right about the pegasi's desire to remain isolated, but she had made them sound far more severe about it. My suspicions about how they would react to ghouls, as far as Haywire was concerned, turned out to be true. I was very thankful (and probably a bit lucky) for Major Wingright's more amiable attitude, although I was disappointment about being forced to leave without Apple Crumble getting to see the stars again. Still, things were going better than I had originally hoped. Naturally, that was when the unthinkable happened.

***

I was leading the two powered armoured pegasi back towards the ledge where I had left my 'passengers', when my lazy eye started rolling upwards. It fell upon the sun, the moon now a hair's breadth away from its eastern edge, and still seeming to inch closer. I stopped dead in midair, captivated. It was almost as though they were going to...

The sun and moon collided!

My jaw dropped, stunned at the sight that was playing out before me. At first it seemed as though the moon only just touched the sun's edge, but it kept on going, unhindered by its contact with the blazing fires of the Celestia's charge. The moon had become a ravenous beast that was slowly devouring the sun, consuming its light and turning the sky as dark as night. There were no words to describe the wrenching I felt inside. I'm pretty sure I threw up, but I was so completely transfixed by the horrendous sight that I barely noticed. The moon seemed to come to a stop once it had completely enveloped the sun. The sky now held a single black orb with great tendrils of crimson flame whipping around its edges. It looked like the gateway to hell. I heard a distant, gruff shriek echoing off the mountain nearby.

“What the fuck?” came the voice of Wingright. Her Lieutenant was far less composed about it.

“This can't be happening!” exclaimed the armoured stallion. “It's not... this can't...” he then proceeded to babble incoherently.

“Maintain your composure Haywire,” barked the Enclave Major, but it was no use.

“It's all true,” he yelled, frantic. “The Princesses are dead, and now the sun and moon are following them. It's all over!”

Haywire's comment snapped a bit of sense back into me. The Princesses were dead, he had said. The worst case scenario May had not wanted to even consider, and he had stated it as a simple fact. I turned around, wanting to demand some sort of explanation, but he had already flown off in his hysteria. Wingright moved to follow him, but then rounded on me.

“Shit is going to get real ugly, real fast,” she stated. “Get back down below the clouds and stay there.” She flew after her underling without another word.

I hovered there, dazed and confused. I didn't look at the sky again; the sight was too horrific. I had heard May scream moments earlier, but it only just now registered that it was her. I flew back down towards the ledge where I had left them, not knowing what else to do.

All three of my friends were still there on the ledge when I reached them. May was laying flat on her stomach, shuddering in her panic, a small bit of sick stuck to the side of her muzzle. Apple Crumble was laying underneath Rottingtail with his hooves over his face. Rottingtail himself was staring up at the sky with a brave face, but his skeletal leg was rattling with subtle shivers. He looked to be shielding his nephew as best he could. He looked at me uncertainly as I approached.

I set down on the cliff next to May, just barely enough space available for me. May barely seemed to notice until I wrapped a hoof around her shoulders. She looked at me, eyes wide in horror and hurt. She opened her mouth and her muzzle moved, but no sound came. There were simply no words. Instead, I held her firmly to my breast, laying my neck across hers. I shut my eyes as tears started to form, rolling down my face. I sat there embracing May and waited. What else could we do?

A minute passed, then two. The longest seven minutes of my life were spent cowering on that mountain ledge with my fellow ghouls. Only Rottingtail seemed to have the courage to look up at the blackened sun. “Ah think...” I heard him mutter, “Ah think it's over!”

I dared to take a peek up at the sky. Rottingtail was, it would seem, right. The moon was moving again, slowly but surely, and the eastern edge of the sun was already freed from its obstruction. I nudged May to look up at the sky, and she took the chance as well. Together we watched as, over the next few minutes, the moon receded, the shadow it cast over us lifting in several respects. Eventually, it released the sun entirely, and simply sat in the sky beside it. Wrong, but not the horrendous cataclysm we had been subjected to moments before.

Once it was over, May looked to me. She still seemed unable to speak. I didn't have much to say myself, so I simply held her as she wept into my chest. I was crying too; despite not knowing what we had really just experienced, the emotional impact of it would linger for a long time to come.

***

Nopony said anything as we descended around the mountain. It was still raining, but the worst part of the storm had long since moved on. I had kept our flight close to the mountains anyways in case we needed to make any sort of emergency landing. The cold of the rain against my rotten flesh mirrored the cold emptiness I now felt inside, which had replaced the abject horror we had all just been subjected to. I didn't mention to the others what I had heard Haywire say; we were already hurting enough. Besides, the pegasi had lived alone up in the clouds for the last four decades. How could any of them know anything for sure about the world below.

May's Pipbuck was blasting DJ P0N-3's station in the wagon, the sound leaking out through the viewing window enough that I could hear it clearly. May was distracting herself from what we had just witnessed, and a sharp inhale that I heard over the music told me she was escaping again. Still, I didn't have the heart to get on her case about it. I didn't really have the heart for anything right now. I simply focused on getting us back down to the ground.

I wasn't really listening to the music as it gave way to another newscast from Remix.

“Good evening children. Well, maybe not so good. I've just received a message from Stalliongrad's local medical pony regarding the status of the Iron Mare.”

Remix played the recorded message, which sent the voice of an elderly sounding buck over the radio in her stead.

“Hello, my name is Doctor Gauze, local physician of Stalliongrad. This message is for DJ P0N-3 so that she can inform the rest of the wasteland. As you are aware, the pony you refer to as the 'Iron Mare' (her name is Peaches by the way), is in our care after fending off a small flock of manticores that were going to attack our community. She is presently in stable condition, but there were complications. We were able to treat her injuries, but we did not have an available supply of anti-venom to treat the poison. Some brave members of our community rushed to scavenge a nearby Ministry of Peace clinic, and were able to procure some, but sadly we were not fast enough. Peaches will recover, but she will be paralyzed from the waist back for the rest of her life. However, in recognition of her acts of bravery both for this community and many others out there, we will make sure she is taken care of for the rest of her days.”

The recording ended, and Remix returned to the broadcast.

“Sad news folks, but instead of despairing about what's happened to the Iron Mare, let's take a fond look back at what she's done. She selflessly risked her own like to help hundreds of innocent ponies, with Hoofstomp and Stalliongrad being particularly vivid highlights. She set an example, and in turn those who she helped returned the favour in kind. The wasteland needs more of this children, so don't be afraid to do the right thing; you could be the next big hero. This next one goes out to the Iron Mare; may her retirement be peaceful and happy...”

Under any other circumstances, I would have felt depressed hearing that a heroine like the Iron Mare would no longer be able to help and save other ponies. However, the emotional void I was experiencing in the wake of what had happened up in the sky drowned it out. Between the isolationism of my kin, the cloud ceiling that would continue indefinitely, and the horrific collision of the sun and moon, it was just another drop in the bucket. A small part of me wondered if May had heard the broadcast through her dash high, and what she might think, considering she had loved the heroine. Perhaps it was better that she didn't find out right away; who knows what it would do to her psyche.

***

We returned to Trottingham in the wee hours of the morning. That didn't stop a small crowd of ghoul ponies from swarming around us in their curiosity. The Canterlot griffon was among them, looking almost irritated that we had returned unscathed. The other ponies were eager to hear about the sky above, but we were all rather exhausted. The four of us returned to the Sheriff's Shanty to retire, intending to inform them of what we had seen in the morning.

When I got into my room, I found the griffon waiting there for me, having flown in through the window. “So, looks like you got lucky,” she scowled.

I hung my head and sighed. “I wouldn't exactly call it lucky. The first pegasi I see in forty years and one of them tried to vaporize me. The only thing that I would consider lucky is that he missed.”

The griffon sneered cruelly. “Don't say I didn't warn you, featherbrain. The pegasus ponies only care about themselves now, and anypony up there who thinks different gets branded a traitor. They'll do anything to silence their opposition, to the point of hiring mercs to hunt 'em down. Even Talons, like me. Of course, that went out the window after this happened.” She was presumably referring to her ghoulification.

The griffon was oddly talkative, even though her attitude was very much the same. “Why are you telling me this?”

“'Cuz I wanted to gloat,” she spat, turning away from me. “I don't get many opportunities to say 'told you so' anymore. Also, I wanna know something.” She turned to face me again, locking me with a glare. “You hear anything about a pony named Rainbow Dash while you were up there?”

This griffon knew Rainbow Dash? I vaguely remembered a time when a griffon had come to Ponyville, years before the war ever started. Pinkie Pie had thrown a party, and the griffon had revealed herself to be quite a bitch. Was this the same griffon? She certainly had the same temperament. Or was I reading into it too heavily? Dash didn't exactly have a low profile during the war. “No, I didn't hear any mention of her.” I replied.

I was about to ask why when the griffon backed away. “Good.” She turned and flew out the window. I caught her muttering; “If I couldn't get her, no one could.”

Although the griffon provided a temporary distraction, I was still dead tired. I sauntered over to the hard cot that was my bedding and collapsed onto it. My mind was a sieve; everything that had happened that day trickling out as I slowly dozed off.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderately-Low

Ghoul Tip: Radiation is your friend. Radiation is known to have a regenerative effect on the bodies of ghouls, but it is also speculated that the energy contained within magical radiation has a positive effect on the psyche and overall mental well being of ghoul ponies. Some have described being irradiated as 'pleasantly warm'.

Interlude 2: Shadows of Society

Interlude 2: Shadows of Society

Extinction.

Ponies had been driven to the brink of extinction by the war, megaspells and the aftereffects thereof. However, if there's one thing I've learned in my travels it would be this: ponies are stubborn. The population of the Equestrian Wasteland was a small fraction of what the land had known before being wiped clean in the holocaust. However, we ponies refused to fade out. Despite how little there was, we struggled and fought, scavenged and searched, and clung to the hope that things might get better. It took ponies a while to realize that things could never go back to the way they had been before.

It is interesting to note that, even when separated by time and distance, ponies tend to develop in similar fashions. Perhaps the most prominent example of this is the faith in the Goddesses Celestia and Luna. Both the ponies on the surface and underground, cut off from the former Princesses, saw their histories and legends become myth. Celestia and Luna transcended their status as the rulers of our land, to become benevolent deities that looked down on us all from afar (As I'm sure you've all heard by now, this is at least half true).

On the more down to Equestria side of things, the ponies that now inhabited the surface tried to reestablish more concrete aspects of the old society. Small new villages began cropping up in places like Manehattan, Prance, Fillydelphia, and even the necropolis of Trottingham began to grow as word spread that it was a safe place for ghouls. However, their populations were not able to thrive, as many things were still scarce, and only those with skills, courage or luck were willing and able to venture into the dangerous and tainted places in the wasteland that were yet untapped. Such things were often a draw for the Ex-Talon Canterlot ghoul, who never stayed in Trottingham for any long period of time.

As the demand for both goods and services grew with the population (swelled by both determined breeding and the resurgence of a number of Stable ponies), another aspect of prewar society reared its head: economy. A medium of exchange was needed to make such ventures worthwhile for both parties. At first, ponies from the Stables brought pre-war gold coins into the picture, but there were problems. The pre-war gold coins, aside from no longer having a government backing them, were more useful elsewhere. The gold could be melted down, used to repair electronics, and I even met one strange mercenary who used them to make ammunition for shotguns.

So, with the old currency no longer desirable as currency, a new intermediary was needed. Something readily available, easy to obtain, difficult to duplicate and present in sufficient quantities to provide reasonable comparisons of value. The solution once again seemed to develop in a number of different places at the same time: bottle caps (both Sparkle~Cola and Sunrise Sarsaparilla were deemed valid). When the news reached Trottingham, I had a good laugh, simply because May's old collection, along with the stores of Sparkle~Cola at the Watering Hole, gave Trottingham a decent initial treasury.

Trottingham didn't do that much trading with the rest of the wasteland, mainly because most ponies were wary of a town full of ghouls. Some thought they could take advantage of a town full of 'mindless shambling zomibes', but they quickly learned otherwise thanks to Rottingtail and his local militia. However, some of the braver investors saw the potential of trading with our little necropolis, particularly because we had a functioning water talisman from Stable Twelve. Pure water was still the most sought after commodity in the Equestrian Wasteland (and made for much better muffin batter), followed closely by food, then weapons and ammunition. The wasteland was a dangerous place after all.

Sadly, that danger didn't just stem from wild beasts, feral ghouls and other irradiated death traps of the wasteland. No, it is quite unfortunate that one of the greatest threats of the Equestrian Wasteland was other ponies. Despite the examples led by good ponies like the Iron Mare, the Lone Stallion, the Stalliongrad Seven and other notable heroes, so many ponies turned to banditry and barbarism as a means of life. Too many placed their own needs above those of all ponies, seeing the food, water and other supplies carried by others as being more valuable than the ponies that carried them. Seeing the lives of a select few ponies as more important than all of the others.

The worst of the worst were the raiders. DJ P0N-3 started calling them that, as the first major bands of these brutal, sick, and often psychotic ponies came from the progeny of Raider and his group out of Ponyville. I was heartbroken when I first heard that the town that had once been my home had become such a depraved place, filled with some of the worst the wasteland had to offer. It was made all the worse knowing that Stronghoof's attempt to save the town had failed so completely. I continued to use his rifle in my travels, hoping that the small piece of him continuing to serve worthy causes would let his soul rest a little easier. I even fitted it with a custom bolt to make it fire more smoothly for me.

May and I ended up staying in Trottingham with Rottingtail for most of the decades that followed our coming to the town. Despite the initial hardships, May was able to make excellent use of Doctor Fixit's in depth study of the ghoul condition and the ghoulification process. While she was not able to get any closer to a cure, she was able to, through a combination of radiation treatments, custom tailored healing spells and counciling, greatly improve both the physical and mental well being of many ghouls that came to our little necropolis. She was even able to patch up Rottingtail's bad leg, regrowing some of its flesh. While it remained as crippled as it had always been, he no long had to worry about it potentially falling off.

Rottingtail and I grew closer during my years in Torttingham. He was a fair gentlecolt, and had true affection towards me. I also had a good deal of respect for the concern he held for other ghouls, even if he was occasionally colder to regular ponies (I'd be lying if I said I'd never felt at least a little resentful myself). I'll say no more about that though, as I'm sure most of you reading this wouldn't have any particular interest in the... preferences of a ghoul pony such as myself.

I didn't spend the entirety of those forty years in Trottingham. Using some of the skill from my old line of work, I often went along with merchant caravans to help with the bartering. I also sometimes joined the guards of those caravans, or scavenging parties that went looking for other resources that the town could use or sell. I even took my meager tailoring skills to a new level when another ghoul merchant taught me how to craft and reinforce armour. It was almost like I had a normal life again, at least as far as one could be had in the wasteland.

It was never easy, as there were still plenty of groups who couldn't be bothered to distinguish between us and our feral kin, and others who wanted to see us all exterminated because they viewed us as monsters or abominations. Sadly, most Steel Rangers fall into this category, although Gizmo seemed to keep to his promise to keep them out of Trottingham for a good long while. When it came to anypony else, Rottingtail's militia was enough to keep us safe from outside threats.

Trottingham itself grew up quite nicely, setting itself up as both a trading town and a settlement where ghouls did not have to fear persecution. However, that's not to say that we didn't have our own share of problems.

Chapter 9: Overdose

Chapter 9: Overdose

“Ya got the caps, I got the stuff. A match made in heaven.”

Dull.

Travelling through the Equestrian Wasteland was almost never dull. There were usually encounters with wild beasts or raiders that had to be fended off. A travelling merchant's caravan is often an all too inviting target. Which is why it is often crucial for those working as merchants or scavengers to either be adept at protecting themselves, or hire somepony who is to serve as protection. The few Talon Mercenaries spread throughout Equestria are particularly fond of this line of work, including a certain Canterlot Ghoul.

That said, this particular journey through the wasteland had gone off without major incident. A few radroaches and some bloatsprites, but those are hardly worth noting. I was presently taking my turn at pulling the lead wagon of our (admittedly small) caravan, while an earth pony ghoul who went by Blackhoof pulled the other behind me. I suspected that, like Sheriff Rottingtail, that was not his real name, and he had taken it up after becoming a ghoul. That his left forehoof was burned black by spellfire was admittedly also a clue. He happened to be the first ghoul from Trottingham I had met, along with the unicorn guard named Fester when May and I first arrived in the necropolis.

“You doing all right up there Ditzy?” called Blackhoof.

“Just fine, thank you,” I called back. Accompanying our caravan were three members of Rottingtail's militia, and Blackhoof and I were both armed as well. Unless we ran right into a town full of raiders, I didn't suspect we would have any real troubles.

Our caravan had been away from Trottingham for close to two weeks total now. We had gone as far as Stalliongrad, stopping at smaller settlements along the way. We were now heading back towards Trottingham, approaching from the south. Our trip had been fruitful, once again largely thanks to our ability to offer decent quantities of pure water thanks to the salvaged Stable Twelve water talisman. At my insistence, we didn't charge a high premium for the water itself, instead using it as an incentive to open trade for other goods. Without that, I doubted many ponies would even consider trade with ghouls.

Another couple hours of travel would see our caravan back at Trottingham, and it seemed as though that time would pass without incident. Then, I heard it. My ears perked up as a noise reached them. Except that it wasn't noise; it was music. It was tinny sounding and faint, almost like a radio with bad reception. I immediately stopped and scanned the surrounding area, but I couldn't see anything (my lazy eye notwithstanding).

I heard the wagon drawn by Blackhoof skid to a halt behind me. “Something the matter?”

“I think I hear... music,” I replied, a little uncertainly. The sound was growing fainter, as though it was moving away.

“I don't hear anything,” called the earth ghoul. That was understandable, considering he was further back and had a wagon in front of him blocking what I was hearing.

Our militia escorts trotted up to the front of of my wagon and began looking around, although they seemed to be coming up as empty hoofed as I was. “Wait right here, I'm going to take a look.”

I quickly shucked myself free of the wagon's harness, taking a moment to stretch my wings. Leaving the others beneath, I flew straight up into the air. I grasped Stronghoof's rifle, faithfully strapped to my back, in my teeth, slipping it free of its strap and bringing it up to eye level. Closing my bad eye, I brought the scope up to my good one and began to look over the surrounding area. The magnification on the scope was decent, although I found myself wishing I had a pair of binoculars.

I found the source (or what I presumed to be the source at least) northeast of our position. It was a round metal machine, about the size of a pony's head. It had four insectoid wings flapping on its back, a pair of antennae on top and a grilled front plate that looked like a speaker. I watched the round robot curiously; it had been eighty years since I had seen one of these.

“Where did that come from?” I muttered to myself, watching the floating orb through the scope.

The flying device was a sprite-bot. They had been invented and employed by the Ministry of Morale during the war. Pinkie Pie constantly pumped uplifting (by her standards at least) music through them, hoping to spread joy all over Equestria while she could not be everywhere at once herself. However, this was my first time seeing one since the holocaust. I had presumed they had all been either destroyed or disabled by the megaspells. Had this one survived and been floating around the empty wasteland spouting music to no one for nearly a century? If that were the case, I almost felt sorry for the little flying radio.

***

The sprite-bot was suddenly struck by something, sparks shooting off the metal casing. It had been shot, and one of its wings had been damaged, causing it to list to one side. The bot turned in the direction the shot had come from at the same instant I moved the scope to find out what had shot it. I spotted a pony in ragged looking barding holding a sawed off shotgun in his teeth. He fired another shot as I watched, downing the sprite-bot. The sprite-bot, apparently programmed to defend itself, managed a single shot from a magical energy weapon at its attacker. The offending beam of pinkish light left a nasty burn on the stallion's chest.

Staggering away from his kill, the buck dropped his gun and nearly collided with a unicorn mare in similar makeshift armour. She kicked him in annoyance before turning her attention back to something in front of her. She was levitating an assault rifle and firing at... I moved the scope to spot an odd looking transport. Floating above it was a lever action shotgun suspended in a field of green magical levitation. Whoever was wielding it was hiding behind the vehicle and firing blindly at his attackers. I could see the corpse of a brahmin that had been caught in the crossfire in front of the transport, as well as another pony in armour who was probably a hired guard.

Flying back down to the others, I quickly called out: “Raiders!” I had gotten used to calling them that, but Stronghoof's rifle remained a constant reminded that it had not been his fault.

“Coming here?” demanded Scatter, one of the militia ghouls. She was a unicorn with a battle saddle sporting side-mounted, single shot grenade rifles.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head firmly. “Another merchant I think, northeast of here. As far as I could see, its three on one.”

In addition to the shotgun stallion and assault rifle mare, there had been one more unicorn stallion wielding a small calibre firearm. Closer to the wagon had been the body of a fourth raider. An earth pony mare had attempted to charge the merchant with a sledgehammer in her mouth, only to be killed by scattershot from the floating lever-action shotgun.

“Right then,” stated Scatter, turning to the rest of the assembled ghoul ponies. “Ditzy and I will go help out, since she can fly and I'm the fastest runner. The rest of you stay sharp and take defensive positions; there may be more in the area.”

The other three militia members deferred to Scatter's plan, placing themselves strategically around our two wagons. Blackhoof freed himself from his harness as well, drawing an assault rifle off his back and joining the militia ghouls. Scatter ran forward, kicking to load her battle saddle. I took to the air, flying off ahead of her while leading her in the direction I had seen the fight.

By the time we arrived, the shotgun raider had recovered his weapon and was slowly approaching the odd wagon. The lever-action shotgun was no longer floating above the vehicle, either being reloaded or out of ammunition entirely. The other two raiders were apparently content to wait and let him be the guinea-pig to find out. I raised the rifle's scope to my eye yet again, training it on the shotgun wielding stallion. Through a hole in his patchwork armour (I could make better stuff in my sleep), I could see that his cutie mark was a spiked ponyshoe dripping with blood. I tongued the trigger.

The shot tore through the stallions hindquarters, downing him instantly. It wasn't a kill shot, but the gaping exit wound would have him dead of blood loss within minutes. I deftly cocked the bolt of the rifle, with which I had become rather proficient at ever since I custom fitted it, while swinging the gun towards another target. The other two raiders had turned around, looking for where the shot that downed their companion had come from. Nopony ever looked up; nopony ever expected a pegasus.

Before I could get a clear shot at either of the remaining raiders, two successive booms signalled the firing of Scatter's grenade rifles. One of the launched grenades went wide, but the other landed right between the two. When dealing with explosives, accuracy is not always a big concern. The two remaining raider ponies were torn apart brutally. The raiders dealt with, I slipped my rifle back onto my back and flew towards the strange wagon.

***

I was rather shocked to see that the pony behind the wagon was in fact a ghoul pony. This was mostly because ghoul ponies almost never travelled with regular ponies, like his deceased guard. Still, caps speak louder to some ponies. He was still floating the lever-action shotgun, now fully loaded, but was peeking over the top of the vehicle curiously. He seemed rather surprised that somepony had come to his aid and dispatched the raiders. I looked over to Scatter, seeing her waving to the ghoul. He waved back warily.

“Hey there,” I called out from above. The ghoul turned both his gaze and shotgun towards me, mercifully hesitating. I held my hooves out in front of me, then slowly descended towards him.

Picking up on the fact that I was not hostile, the ghoul unicorn slipped his weapon into a harness on his back. He was a rather lanky ghoul stallion, and despite not having hair anywhere else on his body, a bushy red moustache crowned the tip of his muzzle. He was also dressed oddly; a faded blue and white pinstriped vest adorned his chest, accompanied by a black bow tie around his neck and a straw hat atop his head. He struck me as familiar, but I couldn't place my hoof on why.

“Greetings my flying fellow flesh-rotten friend,” stated the unicorn ghoul, smiling deftly at me. He was certainly charismatic for a ghoul. “Am I to presume that I have you and your heavily armed associate over there to thank for my rescue from those raider ruffians?”

“You're welcome,” I said simply. The fast speech of this pony and the tone of his voice further struck me as familiar, but I still couldn't quite place it.

“Indeed, I am very much grateful for your timely intervention,” continued the dapper buck. “After Gallant fell, I felt for sure that I was a goner. As well, I lament the loss of dear Bessie; best brahmin I'd ever worked with.”

After thanking me, the unicorn ghoul made his way over to the bodies of his fallen companions. He began to pluck items from their packs and barding, including weapons, ammunition and bottle caps. At the same time, Scatter trotted up to us, floating along with her the weapons she had looted from the dead raiders. She looked them over, dropping the assault rifle, which had been mangled in the explosion, but began tucking the rest away into her saddlebags.

Looking up from his own looting, the other merchant remarked; “I say my dear, would it be too much trouble if I asked to take those weapons for myself? Considering that I am going to need to hire a new protector and buy another brahmin, I would ever so much like to recoup some of my losses. Of course, I know I have no real right to ask, considering you just saved my life, but it would be yet another turn most greatly appreciated.”

Scatter looked to me, shrugging. We had made a decent profit on our excursion, and were already fairly well equipped anyways. She floated out the weapons again and handed them off to the moustached ghoul, who added them to his own loot before placing the loot onto his peculiar looking mode of locomotion.

Trotting back over to us, he spoke again; “Now then, this may be a tad presumptuous of me, but would I be correct in assuming that you most delightful ghoulettes are heading to Trottingham as well? I have heard tell that it was a safe haven and trading town that is most welcoming to our kind.”

“We're from Trottingham,” I replied. “We were part of a merchant caravan that was heading back after making a run to Stalliongrad.” I gestured to myself, then to Scatter; “I'm Ditzy Doo, merchant and proprietress of Trottingham Trading Post. This is Scatter, she's a local militia member and caravan guard.”

“Ah, so you're fellow merchants as well as fellow ghouls.” The buck facedhoofed. “Where are my manners,” he said, his face bearing an exagerated mock exasperation. He plucked his hat from his head and drew it across his breast in an exaggerated bow. “Allow me to formally and properly introduce myself. I am Flam, travelling salespony-”

“Nonpareil,” I finished, my mind finally piecing together why this buck seemed so familiar.

Flam looked up from his bow, a shocked expression coming over his features. “It would appear that we have crossed paths before. Would you do me the kindness of reminding me when and where; the old days area little fuzzier than I like to admit.”

“We didn't meet exactly,” I supplied, “but I was in Ponyville during the 'Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Six-Thousand' incident.”

Flam looked abashed. “Oh... that. Well, then it might gratify you to know that, following that incident, my brother and I were unable to corner the cider market anywhere, and were forced to change professions. The whole thing is most lamentable.”

I shrugged. “It's been nearly a hundred years or so since then, and I was never really one for holding grudges. I never actually tried your cider anyways.”

Flam gave a bit of a relived smile and replaced his hat. “The incident was not without more fortunate repercussions though. That little Apple Bloom recognized the potential of our unique mix of mechanics and magic, and actually sought my brother and I out when she founded Stable-Tec! Granted, by then she was a lot more business savvy than when we first met, but she still gave us a fair and profitable offer on our patents.”

I cocked an eyebrow; “Really? I always thought Apple Bloom made her inventions herself.”

“Oh most indubitably,” Flam assured me, “and her ingenuity and crafting talents put my brother and I to shame. Possibly because her earth pony upbringing allowed her to see the potential in so many new and different ways. However, our transport was the starting point for much of her insight into the mixing of magic and machinery.”

“Speaking of Flim,” I stated; having only just realized the strangeness of Flam being by himself, “where is the other half of the 'World-Famous Flim-Flam Brothers?”

In response to my question, Flam sighed, a dejected look draining his previous charisma. “Alas, my poor brother, I knew him well. We had been together always, and even survived the megaspells together, in so much as we did. However, not two years ago, his mind started to give, and he began to turn towards a most feral persuasion. His last act as himself was to ask me to spare him the cruelty of such a fate. Knowing that I would ask the same were I in his horseshoes, I did the deed.” Flam began to cry, tears running down his sunken cheeks.

I felt for Flam. May, Rottingtail and I had all borne witness to the decline of mental health in ghouls, and had to perform the unfortunate mercy of killing those who turned feral. May's treatments helped many, but not always. I pulled Flam into a hug; I may not have much experience with family, but I knew about friends, and the pain of losing them. Hopefully it would be at least a small comfort to him. His tears dripped onto my skin for a while before he regained his composure.

***

“Please, forgive my lapse in civility,” said Flam, wiping his eyes after I released him from the hug. “It is most unbecoming.”

“It's quite alright,” I said warmly. Scatter nodded her agreement from behind me. “Everypony has their moments.”

“Now then, it might be in our best interest to get going.” Flam looked around a bit nervously. “Those Raiders seemed to be out and away from whatever hovel they reside in, but there could be more of them in the area. I most certainly would not like to be caught up in any more of their debauchery.”

“Do you need any help with your wagon?” I offered. The strange wagon looked heavy, and the fact that he had a brahmin pulling it before suggested he couldn't quite manage it himself.

“You are most generous Miss Ditzy Doo,” said Flam, bowing his head, “but that will not be necessary. For you see, this is no mere wagon, and is in fact the salvaged remains of the Flim-Flam Brothers Super Speedy Cider Squeezy Four Thousand, Nine Hundred Eighty-Six! It was one of our earlier models; it took us a long time to get it right,” he admitted sheepishly. “I only had Bessie pulling it for me to conserve my own magic for situations such as the one you just saved me from.”

I chuckled softly; “Alright then, get that thing moving and follow me.”

Before mounting his transport, Flam ran out to the wrecked sprite-bot. He disassembled it as he returned to his vehicle, stripping some of the components with his magic. After a few minutes of tinkering, he finally hopped aboard. “Bing, bang, zam!” he called, his horn igniting with a burst of magical energy. The energy flooded into the machine, which roared to life with a clamour. We were on our way.

***

As we approached Trottingham, I was deep in conversation with Flam. Scatter had taken up pulling the lead wagon of the caravan, giving me the opportunity to catch up with what she perceived to be an old friend. That wasn't really the case, so most of what we talked about was our respective experiences dealing with trade in the Equestrian Wasteland. I was surprised to learn that he apparently had almost no trouble convincing ponies to do business with him, except in the most extreme of circumstances. Then again, he had always been a travelling salespony. I had only recently made the change from courier to merchant.

“Even more important than having the right goods is finding the right buyer,” claimed Flam, seated atop his prototype arcano-tec transport. I was flying along side him as we approached Trottingham. “I guarantee that no matter what it is you have, somepony out there wants it. You just have to find them.”

“Wouldn't that get expensive?” I asked in response. “Going out of your way to find 'the right buyer' could mean days of unnecessary travel.”

“Travel is never unnecessary to a travelling salespony,” quipped Flam. “Besides, not having to eat, drink or sleep makes it a lot easier.”

Our conversation drew to a close as we came up to the wall surrounding Trottingham. My right eye rolled around to the top of the wall, where the guards were looking perplexed at the odd machine approaching them without being drawn by anypony. Seeing me seemed to take their edge off but, as was protocol, they kept their weapons trained on. This included a pair of heavy chain guns on either side of the main gate.

As we approached the gate, Flam's horn lit up again, and the magical energy powering the machine drained out. The machine slowed before coming to a stop, but not without running into the front of the main gate. Flam grinned sheepishly. “That always happens,” he muttered.

I chuckled softly, then flew up to greet the guard ponies. Fester trotted along the top of the wall to greet me. “Made a new friend?” she asked with a smirk.

“He was under attack by raiders,” I replied, then proceeded to fill her in on Flam's situation, as well as the status of our caravan's trip. After she was up to speed, she moved off to open the gate while I flew back down to Flam's transport.

“I am most grateful to be allowed into your community of the forsaken,” Flam stated, nodding his head to me as the gate squealed open.

“We're not forsaken so long as we have each other,” I replied simply, smiling. He smiled back.

“Indeed.” Once the gate was open, Flam and I jumped down and began pulling his vehicle into the city ourselves. He didn't want to start it up again only to have it collide with a structure that would more than likely collapse on impact.

Once our wagon train was inside, the large metal gates squealed once more as they shut behind us. Scatter drew my wagon around to the two storey building that constituted my home and the Trottingham Trading Post, leaving it there for me to unload later. Blackhoof moved the other one in the direction of the Sheriff's Shanty, where we kept most of our armaments and the town's main treasury. Flam and I deposited his wagon in the town square, where a number of curious townsponies came to greet the newcomer. As he began to make himself known, I moved off, having a few ponies that I wanted to see. I had begun to miss them after two weeks.

***

I found the first of my companions inside the Sheriff's Shanty, asleep on the hammock in the back room, as usual. I snickered to myself before walking up to the resting form of Rottingtail, then turning my back towards him. Just as Apple Crumble had demonstrated all those years back, I reared up and bucked the hammock. Not as hard as the little colt had made it seem necessary, but enough to flip the hammock over once and dump the sheriff onto the floor roughly.

Rottingtail groaned as he got to his hooves. He turned towards me, a potential outburst dying when he saw that it was me. He smiled and planted a peck on my cheek, making me blush (in so much as a ghoul could anyways). “Welcome back,” he said simply.

“It's good to be back,” I said, drawing the sheriff into a hug. “I missed all of you guys.” I leaned in close to whisper something in his ear.

The scampering sound of hooves coming down the stairs caused me to break away from Rottingtail, Apple Crumble bursting into the room moments later. “Hiya auntie Ditzy,” he called cheerfully. “I saw the caravan come back. I'm glad yer home safe and sound.”

I smiled warmly and patted the colt on the head. Despite his interruption, I was glad to see him. Plus, it made me feel warm inside to hear him call me 'auntie', even if it was just an honorary title. “Glad to see you too.”

“Did you see that funny lookin' wagon what pulled into town?” asked the ghoul colt, changing topics remarkably fast. “Ah've never seen anythin' like it!”

“Ah yes,” I said, turning to face both Rottingtail and Crumble together. “On the way back, not too far from town, he was being attacked by raiders,” I explained. “Scatter and I took care of them and brought him back with us. He was looking to come this way anyways.”

“Well then,” sighed Rottingtail, “guess Ah'd better go introduce muhself. Ah'm s'posed t'be in charge 'round here after all.”

Crumble and I both rolled my eyes, then he snickered at me because mine rolled in opposite directions. We followed Rottingtail as he trotted out of the Sheriff's Shanty towards the center of town. There was a fairly sizable crowd around Flam's wagon, drawn in by his considerable charisma. A small part of me wondered if it was alright to be letting him sell his wares here, but considering the success of our recent caravan trip and the fact that he had lost a fair bit, I didn't press it. Besides, his attitude seemed to be infectious, and many of the ghouls were amused by his antics.

As I pushed through the crowd, I bumped into my oldest friend. May turned and smiled at me. “Heya Ditzy,” she said, “you getting a load of this?” She snickered at Flam, who was now gesturing grandiosely at the variety of goods on his wagon.

I chortled as well; “That's nothing, last time I met him, he and his brother started singing. Got the whole town involved.”

May burst out laughing, drawing a few odd looks. “Well, I'm glad he isn't singing this time. Ghoul's aren't exactly known for being able to carry a tune.”

May, Rottingtail, Crumble and I nudged out way through the crowd, eventually popping out at the front. Flam noticed us immediately. “And there she is, the mare of the hour!” The moustached ghoul waved for me to come forward. “I'm sure you all know her better than I do, but without this caring and brave young mare, I might never have met all you wonderful folks. Let's hear it for miss Ditzy Doo!”

The crowd laughed and cheered, calling my name. I grinned sheepishly and waved back at them; I was never one for the spotlight. “It was nothing, really,” I said, turning to face Flam. “I'd have done it for anypony.”

“Nonetheless, I am most grateful. As such, I am extending a generous discount to you and all your friends on any of my wares whilst I am staying here in Trottingham.” Flam glanced past me to May, Rottingtail and Apple Crumble. The trio walked up and joined me next to Flam's cart. He bowed to them, touching a hoof to his chest. “Any friend of Ditzy Doo is a friend of mine.” He gave a winning smile towards May, who nickered.

“Well, that's mighty kind o'ya,” stated Rottingtail, shaking Flam's hoof vigorously. “Iffin ya'll plan on stayin' a while, you should probably talk t' Merryweather. She runs our local inn.”

“Your consideration is greatly appreciated,” replied Flam, smiling broadly at the sheriff. “Until then, I should like to return to business.”

I nodded my understanding and turned to depart. Apple Crumble began to follow us, but ran off when approached by a pair of ghoul fillies who wanted him to come play with them. Rottingtail cast me a knowing look, which made me flush a little. May left us be, walking up to talk with Flam on her own. As Rottingtail and I pushed back through the crowd, my lazy eye rolled back to land on May, who was pulling Flam away from the rest of the crowd. I didn't hear all of what she said, but I'm certain I caught the word 'dash'.

***

I let out a sigh as I lay on Rottingtail's hammock, nuzzled up against the sheriff stallion. “What's the matter?” he asked, sounding a bit worried. “Ah weren't that bad, was Ah?”

I flushed, feeling hot. “Nonono,” I said, waving a hoof at him. “It's not you at all.” I sighed again, feeling a bit ridiculous. “It's nothing.”

Rottingtail nudged me with his good forehoof. “T'weren't nothin' if yer sighin' like that. Ah know that sigh, and it means somethin's the matter.”

“It's May,” I confessed.

Rottingtail sat up in response; “Well, now Ah know fer sure it's serious. Ya been friends with her for what would amount to any normal pony's entire lifetime.”

I sat up too, glancing at Rottingtail. My lazy eye rolled up towards the ceiling, where an old light buzzed softly. “Yeah, and you'd think that would mean I know her better, but really, she's always been so distant. She's friendly and cares about helping ponies, but...” I paused, not sure how to put my thoughts into words.

“Is this about her huffin'?” Rottingtail asked bluntly.

I glared at the sheriff, forcing both my eyes to look straight at him. I hated when he called it that; it made May sound like a lowlife junkie. Still; “That's part of it, I think. We've talked about it a few times, but she still partakes of it frequently. I thought that being here in Trottingham and doing some good for her fellow ghouls would help, but that only lasted a little while.”

“It's kinda like there's a part of her she don't let anypony else see,” mused Rottingtail, “Somethin' that she's lost, or maybe is tryin' t' forget. Or maybe she's keepin' to herself cuz it hurts to much to let it out.”

I glanced curiously at Rottingtail; that was an oddly accurate summation. “That's... about right actually. How did you-”

Rottingtail gave a snort; “Braeburn.” he stated simply. “Back durin' the war, as ya'll know, he was a bigwig at Ironshod Firearms. He was contracted with the Ministry of Wartime Technology, and his cousin Applejack was the Mare of the Ministry herself.”

I nodded, already knowing that much. However, Rottingtail never spoke about Braeburn that much. Perhaps it was out of respect for his dead brother-in-law. “So what happened?”

“About a year after the Steel Ranger project got going, he started hittin' the bottle really hard,” he explained. “He wouldn't talk to Silver Sand or me about it at all, and she had to find out from some other Ironshod employees what had happened. He and Applejack had a huge row over the new anti-machine rifles that Ironshod had developed. She actually blamed him personally for what could potentially be the death of her dearest and most treasured creation.

“Now, Ah spent some time on the battlefield muhself,” continued Rottingtail, “and the zebras were pullin' out all kinds of crazy war machines to make up for their diminishing numbers. Ah stood by Braeburn's decision in regards to makin' somethin' what could bring 'em down more easily. Still, that don't change the awful things Applejack said t'him.”

“So what did you do?” I asked. Surely there was some point he was trying to lead into that might help me help May.

“Ah beat 'im senseless,” Rottingtail said, eliciting a gasp from me. “What he was doin' was hurtin' muh sister and nephew, but he didn't realize it until I started kickin' the crap outta him. He thought he was only hurtin' himself, and kept it up out of an endless spiral of self pity and recrimination.”

I wasn't exactly sure how to respond. Certainly he didn't expect me to face May's problem so violently. “Did that... work?”

“It got him off the hooch,” Rottingtail confirmed, “although he was still pretty rough emotionally. He got better near the end when Applejack tried to mend fences, but Ah'll never know if they reconciled completely. Bombs fell, everypony died.”

I considered what Rottingtail had proposed, excluding the 'beating him senseless' part. The few times in the past I had approached her, May had met my attempts at confrontation with evasion and self-justification. Granted, she had years of knowledge from her work as a medical pony behind her, and she didn't show most of the signs of severe addiction, but I was still worried for her. There was still the chance she could fall on that slippery slope, after which I didn't know if I'd be able to help her. As time had passed, she had grown more and more frequent in her usage of the drug outside of traumatic experiences. Whether or not she was suffering, I knew I had to let her know how worried I was. Rottingtail was right; it was time to force her hoof.

I rolled out of the hammock, which swayed as my weight lifted from it. “Thank you,” I said, planting a kiss on Rottingtail's sunken cheek. “I'm going to make her see this time.”

“Now, don't be takin' what Ah said too literal like,” Rottingtail called as I made my way out of the Sheriff's Shanty. “Me'n Braeburn were always the more rough'n tumble sort. Ah figure some stern words'll be good enough fer May. Lemme know how it goes.”

***

After exiting the Sheriff's Shanty, I trotted through Trottingham at a brisk pace. All the while, I was considering what I would say to May. What would make her understand just how much it hurt to see her doing what she was doing to herself? May was an intelligent, reasonable pony, but all the times before I had been thinking about what she was doing to herself. I hadn't really stopped to consider the effect it was having on me.

I stopped for a moment, thinking. I could hear loud singing coming from the Watering Hole behind me; Flam had apparently roused the ghoul population into a drinking song. His voice was the loudest and clearest (and the huskiest), and only he seemed to really know the words. It was possible he was just making them up... wait, why was I focusing on that? Lousy distractions.

Forcing my mind back onto the proper train of thought, I tried to work out what I would say to May. It was easy enough to that she was my friend and I was concerned about her, but I had to really think about why her dash usage was a problem. Maybe it wasn't a problem for her, considering she never showed the signs I had been taught to associate with addicts. However, the time she spent lost in her dash hallucinations...

Then it clicked. The time she spent high on dash was time she could have spent making things better. Granted, the amount of time she actually spent in her escape wasn't comparatively large, but the fact that she kept going back to it meant it was constantly somewhere in the back of her mind. It was holding her back, because she couldn't let go. She couldn't possibly hope to try and make a brighter future for Equestria if she kept trying to relive her past. I wanted that future, and if May really did too, then she would understand.

I found myself standing in front of the scrap metal building that was May's home and clinic before I realized I had crossed the distance to it. Flam's singing had faded into the distance. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and pushed open the door. The reception room in the clinic was empty, although that was expected. May spent most of her time here in case there was a call for her services (open all day, every day is a lot easier when you don't need to sleep). However, considering nopony was in trouble, she wouldn't be in either her operating room or therapy lounge. That left upstairs.

I flew up to the second floor of the clinic, not bothering with the stairs. The light was on in the room at the end of the hall. There were several unoccupied rooms that would, if there were patients being treated here, serve as lodgings for them. I walked past them, a little more slowly than I had trotted through the town outside. I stopped in front of May's door; the sound of her slow, ragged breathing and the soft buzz of the ceiling light could be heard. I pushed the door open.

May was laying on the floor next to an end table, high again. There were two inhalers on the table, seemingly yet unused. Her pupils were dilated and she wore that same awkward smile. I didn't like that smile anymore; it seemed so fake. My right eye rolled to the empty inhaler beside her as I kept my good eye focused directly on her. Something in my brain tried to tell me something was off, but I couldn't quite place it. I didn't have to; May showed me.

May stood up. At first I thought she was coming down, but the look on her face didn't change. She was looking at me, or seemed to be, and I forced both of my eyes to focus on her. I opened my mouth, about to say something, but was cut off. May kissed me. She pressed her muzzle firmly against mine, her eyes closing momentarily. I was so shocked by the act that I didn't move for a few moments, completely stunned. A bunch of warning sirens went off in my brain, pointing out the glaringly obvious fact that this wasn't normal.

I pulled away from May, panting a little. “May, what the hell?” I asked. She just continued to stare at me.

Then she spoke, softly, as though she would to a lover; “Welcome back, Buttercup.” What? I knew Buttercup had been a close friend of May's, but she had never mentioned anything like this. “It's so nice to see you again,” May continued, oblivious. “I know working that double shift overnight must have been rough, but I wanted to make it up to you.”

By the Princesses! Something was definitely wrong with May. All the times I had seen her high before she had been quiet, motionless, and serene. This time she was moving, talking and- gah! May had somehow gotten around to my backside before I could process what was going on. Was she always that fast, or was I just not paying attention? It didn't matter; I couldn't let her do something like that, not when she was out of her senses.

I rounded on May, giving her as concerned a look as I could muster. “May, listen to me...” I planted my hooves on her shoulders, keeping myself aloft with my wings. “You need to focus on me May. It's Ditzy, not Buttercup.”

May continued to stare at me with that false serenity. “Oh? I thought you'd be tired after all that work, but if you want to go first, by all means.” She turned around, slipping out of my hooves and raising her nub of a tail.

Ignoring her presentation, I flew back around to May's front. “Listen to me May,” I said, flinching away from the words I was about to say. “Buttercup is dead. She died eighty years ago. You need to come back to me May, right now!” I felt my eyes begin to burn as tears formed

May looked at me plaintively, her expression seeming to waver. “...Ditzy...” Before I could respond, she began to wheeze wretchedly. “Where'd Buttercup go?” she demanded, panic crossing her face. She coughed violently, crashing from the drug alarmingly quickly. “She was right here and...”

May turned away from me, looking back to the still open door of her room. I could tell that her gaze had fallen to the remaining inhalers that she hadn't yet used. She began to gallop for the door, but I pounced on her. I held her firmly in place, and she wasn't strong enough to buck me off. She didn't need to be. Before I could stop her, her horn lit up, and the inhaler streaked off of the table in a field of magical levitation. I tried to grab it in my mouth to keep her from getting it, but it was already at her lips. She inhaled deeply and desperately.

Immediately she stopped rasping for breath, and the look of serenity returned to her face. She began to mutter quietly, apparently no longer aware I was there. Buttercup's name came up a few more times. I looked into her room at the last inhaler on the table. The tubing on it was a different colour than the ones I had seen her using before, as were the ones she had already used and discarded. I might have recognized that sooner if May's actions hadn't caught me by surprise. I immediately knew where and when she had gotten them, and my sadness quickly turned into anger...

***

The swinging doors to The Watering Hole nearly flew off their hinges as I burst through them. The tavern was rather rowdy, but half of its occupants still managed to notice my rather dynamic entry. One of them was just the ghoul I came in here to find. Flam was standing on a table, floating a mug of hard apple cider next to him. A greeting died on his lips as I slammed into him, knocking him to the floor and pinning him there. The magic holding his drink evaporated, sending the flagon and its contents clattering to the floor.

“My word Ditzy,” proclaimed Flam, looking utterly shocked. “What in Equestria are you doing?”

In response, I spat out the inhaler grasped in my mouth next to his head. I had taken it from May's room, hoping she didn't have more stashed anywhere. “What. Is. This?” I demanded, both my eyes fixed in a glare at him. I could hear worried murmurings from the crowd, and I thought I heard somepony run out the door. I didn't care.

Flam looked relieved for a moment; “Oh, that. Well, like I told you before, a travelling salespony does what he must. If there are ponies who desire chemical assistance, then I see no reason why I can't provide it for them. Your friend was more than willing to procure my entire stock of dash.”

My glare narrowed; “No,” I almost growled. “I've seen May on dash a hundred times before. This is something else. What did you give her?!”

Flam was visibly sweating; “Come now Ditzy, you can't expect every single batch of chems to be the same. Surely-”

I cut Flam off by pressing a hoof to his throat. Not hard enough to crush his windpipe, but enough to let him know I wasn't fooling around. “What. Did. You. Give. Her?” I punctuated each word by pressing more firmly against his throat.

Flam choked and coughed; “Alright!” he yelled hoarsely, “alright, just take your hoof off.” I did so, allowing him to breathe for a moment. He spoke more huskily than before now; “Many years ago my brother and I discovered that ghoul physiology prevented most drugs from having their full impact.”

Gears in my head started to turn. The reaction May had displayed just now was far more akin to what I had been told about substance abuse in that original MoM seminar all those years ago. Could it be that all the times before her reaction was subdued simply because she was a ghoul? I wondered why I had never considered that. Still, that left the question of what Flam had done with this particular batch to improve the experience for ghouls.

He was willing to provide an answer with just a scowl now; “When certain clients asked if there was a way around this lack of potency, my brother and I brewed up an enhanced batch that we called the Flim Flam Brothers Ultra-Dash. It made up for the difference in physiology, and then some. But...” Flam trailed off, probably because he figured what he was about to say would draw my ire.

“But what?” I demanded, raising a hoof again.

“But the effects of withdrawal were also far more pronounced,” he stammered.

I was sorely tempted to start strangling him again, but I kept myself reigned in. That wasn't going to help anypony, least of all May. “Can you fix her?!”

Flam winced away from me, telling me right away that the answer was 'no'. “My brother and I never dabbled with detox; we'd have been undercutting our own market. But,” he added, seeing the intense look in my eyes, “the Ministry of Morale! They were the ones who enacted the contraband laws! If there's any thing in the way of detox, it would be there!”

I got off of Flam just in time for Rottingtail to barge into the Watering Hole along with the ghoul who had run out earlier. He looked to Flam, then to me; “What happened?” He wasn't wearing his battle saddle, but had his revolver holstered at his shoulder.

I gestured pointedly at Flam; “This fucker gave May some kind of super potent dash, and now she's really messed up.”

Rottingtails expression quickly ranged from concern about my words, to anger directed at the squirming salespony. He wasn't the only one; upon hearing that May was messed up, at least half of the taverns occupants had rounded on Flam. Many of them owed their continued well being to her, and the idea that someone had done something so awful to her was not looked upon lightly. He scooted back across the floor until he collided with the wall, looking about to cry out in fear of what the other ghouls might do to him. I paid him no further heed as I departed from the Watering Hole. Rottingtail followed behind me and the two of us began galloping towards Trottingham's Ministry of Morale hub.

***

Most of Trottingham was still abandoned, and those of us living in the necropolis only really ventured there to scavenge. Rottingtail and I ran through the empty streets, not saying a word between us. Since departing from the Watering Hole, my rage had dulled, replaced with worry. Not only for May, but for myself. My anger at Flam had been more intense than any I had felt in a long time, which caused me worry because emotional instability could lead to feralism. As soon as May was better, I was going to seek treatment. For now, I focused on getting to the MoM hub and, hopefully, a way to get that awful drug out of her system.

Suddenly, I could hear music again. The same tinny, patriotic music that I had heard not half a day earlier coming from the sprite-bot that had led me to encounter Flam. Another flying radio identical to the one from before flew across our path on a street up ahead. It struck me as odd, not only because there hadn't been an active sprite-bot in Trottingham during out previous scavenging excursions, but because that was the second one I had come across that day. Did somepony throw a big switch somewhere and suddenly turn them all back on?

That was a mystery for later as Rottingtail and I slowed to a trot, having reached the Trottingham Theatre. This old playhouse had been built upon from the small show stage it had been before, becoming the roots of the MoM's hub here in Trottingham. The floors above it were not quite as monolithic as some Ministry Hubs, but still spanned ten storeys.

Rottingtail and I pushed through the door, undaunted by the prospect of entering a Ministry Hub. The ghouls of Trottingham had been scavenging in this building before. It had been occupied by a security system composed mainly of automated turrets and a few guard robots, as well as a small number of feral ghouls. The megaspell had impacted far enough away that not everypony in the Ministry buildings had been killed instantly, although their fates were decidedly more cruel. The scavenging parties had seen to putting them down and cremating them. The rest of the security had been dealt with by Clank, who had seen to shutting it down via a hacked terminal.

Rottingtail and I hurried through the lobby of the theatre, concerned with getting to the upper floors quickly. We had no idea where to look for a possible antidote or detoxification method, and would have to search floor by floor. Our previous visits here had been mainly spent looking for food, caps and other useful or valuable trade goods. The thought cross my mind that something like a detox formula or dash antidote might be locked in a safe or be merely a recipe stored on a terminal. I immediately regretted not stopping to find Clank and bring her along with us. We were already at the second floor when the thought came to me, but it fled immediately when we entered the floor proper and found something waiting for us.

***

Rottingtail and I stopped dead as we entered the second floor of Trottingham's MoM hub. Floating there in front of us was another sprite-bot, although this one was simply floating silently, no music channeling through the built in radio. It seemed obvious really; these things were employed by the Ministry of Morale, so finding one inside was no surprise. What really struck me was the fact that, after eighty years of being destroyed or disabled, I had come across three of them in one day. Had they really all just come back to life at the same time? If so, then why now? These questions were at the back of my mind though, as May was still my first priority.

Rottingtail and I moved to pass the sprite-bot, but it immediately reacted, flying back out in front of us. I took a cautious step back as a voice that sounded like a mechanical Pinkie Pie came from the bot; “You're not suppose to be here! Omega-Level Threat Protocols have been enacted; that means this office is off limits to all non-MoM employees. Theatre patrons are to depart immediately from the premises and seek shelter. Really sorry about this.”

We tried to get around the sprite-bot again, but it moved to intercept us as before. This time, its warning was more stern; “Unauthorized ponies will be prosecuted on the authority of the Ministry of Morale. Bad ponies better leave now before they get in trouble!” The grill on the sprite bot glowed an angry red.

Rottingtail reached for his revolver, but I raised a hoof to hold him off. I remembered the raider from earlier that day who had been blasted by a sprite-bot's magical energy weapon. If the concealed weapon was anything like what Gizmo's mechanical owl had been packing all those years ago, there was a chance we might end up as piles of ash. I was not about to let that happen, not when May was counting on me. Not that I had any desire to be turned into a pile of ash on any other circumstances, mind you.

I racked my brain, trying to find out how we could get past this obstacle. My mind fell on May once again, going back to the first time she had used dash. It had been at the hospital in Manehattan, which, oddly enough, had also been a Ministry Hub. May had been working as a spell researcher and medic for the Ministry of Peace, and we had been sent there to get supplies by the ponies of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences... that's it!

“Authorization Sparkle-Alpha-Dash, Two-Two-Seven,” I proclaimed to the sprite-bot. I watched intently, praying that I had remembered that correctly. If I had gotten it wrong, we might be in even worse trouble.

The angry red glow faded from the front of the sprite-bot. “Ministry of Peace authorization code recognized. Number of ponies in this facility requiring treatment: none. Ministry of Peace healer is advised to seek out the nearest MoP hub.”

Bingo! Now we're getting somewhere. Maybe it could tell me what I needed to know. “I have a... patient suffering from dash addiction. I came here looking for a way to help her.”

The sprite-bot was silent a moment. “Invalid query,” it finally stated to my dismay. It then proceeded to repeat its recommendation that I head to the MoP hub.

I flew up to the sprite-bot, grasping it with my forelegs. If there was a dash antidote, then I needed to get it to May as soon as I possibly could. Searching could take hours and I didn't know what kind of effect the withdrawal might have on May if I couldn't neutralize the drug.

I tried addressing the bot again; “Dash antitdote, dash detox, dash remedy, dash cure, dash healing.” I said anything I could think of that might yield a result, but the sprite-bot once again told me that it didn't understand, repeating its previous message. Tears of desperation ran down my face. There had to be some way to make it understand. “Please...” I muttered, not really addressing the robot this time.

The sprite-bot was once again stating the same message when a static pop cut it off mid sentence. An entirely different voice came out of the sprite-bot. It was still tinny and artificial, but it lacked both tone and inflection. “Fifth floor,” stated the new voice, “that's where they keep detox supplies. There might still be some dash purger in the safe. Sorry I can't be of more help. Good luck.”

Before I could address the new voice, which seemed as though it was talking directly to me, the sprite-bot burped static again, resuming its statement right where it had left off. I was utterly confused, but that took a back seat to the fact that I had just been told what I needed to know. Slowly, I moved around the sprite-bot. It was no longer saying anything, and did not move to stop me. It simply turned on the spot, watching me.

***

Proceeding up to the fifth floor was easy now. We met more sprite-bots, all of which started off with the same warnings as the first one, but May's Ministry of Peace authorization seemed enough to placate them. Like the one from the second floor, they all treated us as non-hostile, and seemed content to just watch us move through the building. It was creepy, but not as creepy as the posters of Pinkie Pie on every wall that claimed she was watching me 'FOREVER'. I had always disliked those posters; they painted the usually cheerful party pony in an unbecoming and sinister light.

Half of the floor was taken up by what was either a kitchen, a chemistry lab, or both. The other half seemed to be filled with broken terminals, research notes and independent desks that had all been charred or destroyed by the megaspell eighty years before. There were a few refrigerators on the kitchen side of the room, but they were all open and emptied. Of course they were; we had been here before. In my haste and worry, I kept missing things that should have been obvious.

This left me feeling frustrated; the voice on the sprite-bot had suggested looking in a safe on this floor, but we had never come across one. Rottingtail was scouring the desk drawers and filing cabinets, looking for anything we might have missed. I kicked the wall in irritation; I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I needed to vent somehow. A framed picture of Pinkie Pie fell to the floor, my kick having knocked it loose from the bent nail it had been hanging on.

My lazy eye rolled onto the picture, and I turned to look at it as well. The photograph was of Pinkie before the Ministry of Morale; when she had been going around to the troops to give her own morale boosting presentations. She was dressed in a showgirl's outfit, dancing on a stage. She looked so much more lively and happy than she did in the 'Pinkie Pie is Watching You' posters. Looking up, I saw that Rottingtail was looking at the picture to, or at least in the direction of it.

Rottingtail raised his good foreleg and pointed to a space on the wall that had been behind the picture. Moving myself to get a better view, and saw that the picture had been hung over a safe that was built into the wall. I facehoofed; how had we missed that before? Trotting over to the newly revealed safe and tried to open it. It was locked. Damnit.

My first reaction was to turn to Rottingtail, intending to ask him to try shooting the lock. The suggestion died on my lips as I saw him dangling a ring of keys he had found in his scavenging. Just as well; this wasn't a padlock that could be removed by breaking it, it was built into the safe. Rottingtail tossed the keys to me, catching them in my teeth. I tried them one after another, discovering that the last key on the ring was the one that opened this safe. I thought about how I could have gotten it open faster if I'd started turning the keyring the other way, but it didn't matter now.

I pulled the safe open, revealing the contents to be an inhaler and a sheet of paper. I took them both out, setting them on a nearby table to look them over. The inhaler was almost identical to the inhalers I had seen May using dash from before, but the mouthpiece was slightly different, and the colour of the tubing was also not the same. The sheet of paper looked like a recipe. It read: 'Dash Purger', followed by a list of chemical and herbal ingredients that I couldn't make sense of, as well as preparation instructions.

Curiously, I flipped the recipe over to see if there was more to it. Instead, I found a hastily scrawled note.

I'm not sure I like this method. The Helpinghoof Clinics, with help from Ministry of Peace subsidies, are already well on their way to a more effective and presumably less... forceful addiction treatment. I could see this stuff as a temporary means or a quick fix, but-

The rest of the note was scratched out. From the sound of it, taking this stuff was going to be rough on May. Still, the alternative was letting her waste away under the effects of (or withdrawal from) Flam's ultra-dash. As well as she had handled herself before, Flam's stuff had messed her up. It had only taken one use. I was worried for her even now; if she had more that I hadn't taken way, she had a risk of overdosing. I could worry about the consequences after removing the drug from her system.

After depositing the dash purger and recipe in my pack, I moved back towards the stairwell. I stopped short when I heard a 'thunk' behind me. Turning on the spot, I saw that Rottingtail had fallen to one knee. His bad leg had buckled underneath him. I winced; he had been running all over Trottingham to keep up with me. I had been so concerned about May that I had completely neglected his condition.

“Hang on,” I said, flying over to him. At a closer look, his leg was in bad shape; it had been strained to the point of the flesh tearing and bleeding. I wasn't even sure it was his knee that had bent.

“Ah'll be fine,” he muttered, trying to force himself up. He failed miserably. “May needs yer help a lot more than Ah do. Ah'll catch up.”

I shook my head vigorously; “No; I'm bringing you back with me. Once May is cured, she can fix your leg up again.”

“Yer as stubborn as any Apple family mare, y'know that?” Rottingtail nickered at me.

Ignoring him, I flew over to a nearby window and bucked it open. I wrapped my forehooves around Rottingtail's middle and hoisted him up, very glad that he wasn't carrying anything heavy. The sprite-bot in the room didn't seem to like my forcing the window open, and started approaching, its grill glowing an angry pink. Rottingtail whipped out his revolver and emptied it into the robot before it had a chance to fire. I quickly flew out the open window and back towards the necropolis before any more suddenly active sprite-bots noticed that we had taken one down.

***

Upon returning to the occupied part of the city, I found that Flam's wagon was no longer present in the town square. I would later learn that the rest of the town had forcibly evicted him after learning that his enhanced chems had poisoned May. I would be quite happy to never see his face again, and felt a long lost sympathy for the folks of Ponyville who had dealt with him and his brother all those years ago. So much for not carrying grudges.

I flew Rottingtail into May's clinic, setting him down on a bench. I propped his injured leg up on a table, not wanting to do any more for fear of making it worse. A violent retching sound from the floor above suggested that May did not have any more doses of ultra-dash, and was suffering from withdrawal. I flew up to the second floor and found her in her room, shuddering on the carpet and wheezing terribly. Her room was in disarray, having been apparently torn apart by May in a desperate bid to find the missing inhaler. Three empty ones that looked like normal dash indicated that she had attempted, and failed, to compensate for quality with quantity.

May took a few moments to notice that I had entered her room. “Ditzy,” she pleaded, her eyes wide. “I need...” She then clutched at her breast, giving a painful looking convulsion.

I pulled the purger inhaler from my pack and held it out to her. No sooner had she caught sight of it than it was ripped from my mouth with her magic, floating up to her own muzzle instinctively. “Please let this work,” I prayed softly as May breathed deeply from the inhaler.

The effect was immediate. May's eyes went wide and she looked at me, a mix of confusion and relief on her face. Then she threw up. A lot. I helped her reach the nearby bathroom and sat beside her, rubbing her back and holding her tattered strands of mane back as she violently emptied the contents of... her entire body so far as I could tell. It was immediately and painfully apparent what the note on the back of the recipe had meant by 'forceful'. May was crying wretchedly from the strain, but whatever that stuff had done, it wasn't going to let her stop until every last trace of dash had been evacuated from her system.

I don't know how long May and I actually spent in that bathroom, but it felt like hours. Once the ordeal was over, May was completely and utterly drained. She didn't even have the energy to move, so I picked her up and flew her back to her room. She passed out the moment I set her down on her bed. She looked ragged, even for a ghoul, and I didn't imagine she would be up and about for some time. I shut the blinds, turned out the light and left the room, closing the door behind me. I was going to make damn sure she wasn't disturbed by anything. I proceeded to occupy myself by cleaning the hall and bathroom of May's vomit. It would give me a chance to think about what I could say to her when she woke up.

***

May remained comatose for the better part of two days. The ghouls in town were all really worried about her, and the whole settlement seemed to wait on baited breath for her to recover. I never left the clinic the entire time, milling about and keeping the place tidy while May was out. Rottingtail's leg wasn't going to get better without proper treatment, but in the meantime he had used a medical brace to set it and make himself ambulatory again. He had other responsibilities that he needed to take care of. Thankfully, nopony else in town had a need of May's services during that time.

Late in the afternoon on the second day after May had taken the dash purger, my ears perked as I heard her calling out weakly from her room. I immediately flew up the stairs and into her room, slowing only to open the door. May was still laying on her back, but had managed to nudge the blanket I had pulled over her off. Before doing anything else, I checked the bucket I had placed beside her bed, but it seemed that she had mercifully avoided being sick again.

May looked up at me from the bed as I turned to face her. “How long was I out?” Her words came slowly, strained by weakness.

“A couple days,” I replied casually. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” she stated, both obviously and honestly. “Does anypony-”

“No,” I said, cutting her off, “we're all doing just fine, physically at least.”

She gave a weak but relieved smile. Her expression wavered as she asked: “What... did you do?”

I wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question, so instead I pulled out the recipe for the dash purging agent. She was able to muster enough focus to grasp it in her magic and float it in front of her to read. “I'm sorry,” I said, looking away from the bedridden mare, “but I didn't have time to look for another way. I was really worried about you.”

May finished looking over the recipe and set it down on the end table. “I see,” was all she said. The face she had made while reading the recipe was a mix of understanding and disgust. She turned her gaze back to me; “I've told you before that I envy you, right?”

I looked back to May, a bit confused by her statement. “Yes...” I answered cautiously. “You said you were jealous of my ability to cope with everything that happened.”

May nodded; “I was doing okay at first after the megaspells went off. I had found survivors, and I had hoped that my love might have survived as well. Seeing her corpse, and knowing that I was partly responsible for her being there when it happened, I couldn't bear it. I found that using dash was the only way I could see her again.” May was crying now. She made no motion to dry her eyes, her hooves laying limp at her sides.

I grabbed a nearby kerchief and dabbed at her eyes, wiping the tears away. “It's not your fault,” I said, trying to be comforting.

May now looked hurt; “I know why you did it Ditzy; you were worried about me, but-”

“Not just you,” I cut in. I didn't raise my voice, but there was an edge to my tone. “Me, Rottingtail, Apple Crumble, and and everypony else in this town were worried. Yes they were worried about your well being, but they were also worried about what would become of them without you. A lot of ghouls rely on you, and half the town wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I had thought long and hard about my next words. “You're a good pony May, but you've been selfish. Your dash usage didn't just hurt you, it hurt everypony who cares about you.”

May looked abashed, and shied away from my gaze. My lazy eye rolled to follow her as she turned over in the bed, staring at the window. “You don't understand,” she tried to protest.

“No, I don't,” I stated simply, “but you don't seem to either. You lost your lover yes, but everypony in the Equestrian Wasteland, especially us ghouls, has lost somepony. Friends, family, lovers, and everything in between. We've all lost the beautiful land we once called home, our Princesses, even the sky.” I flapped my wings gingerly for emphasis. “You and Buttercup joined the Ministry of Peace because you wanted to help ponies. Do you really think she would want you obsessing over her when you could be doing just that?”

May sat bolt upright, glaring at me with daggers in her eyes. She looked like she was about to scream at me for daring to mention her love like that. I met her gaze with soft, sympathetic eyes. Her anger seemed to melt away, replaced by deep sadness as she began to cry. I pulled her into a hug and let her sob into my shoulder. This much at least I could do for her, as her oldest friend.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderate

Ghoul Tip: Don't go to pieces. Ghouls may have a regenerative ability, but it's only good for flesh wounds and general wellness. If they lose a limb, it's gone for good, just like any other pony.

Chapter 10: Fractured Facets

Chapter 10: Fractured Facets

“I'm just another warrior doing her job.”

Weak.

For a number of days after the ultra-dash incident, May was left weak and nearly helpless. The process of purging the drug from her system had been physically and emotionally taxing, and the road to recovery would not be short. While she had been abed, I scoured every inch of her clinic, finding and disposing of every dose of dash she still possessed. I knew that May would object, and I couldn't blame her, considering the psychological effects the addiction had on her. Even so, I was determined to make sure she never touched the stuff again, for more than just her own sake.

I stayed close to May while she tried to regain her strength. Out of curiosity, I asked her about the dash purging agent, having not been able to figure out any of what the recipe meant. She had told me that, aside from the obvious forced ejection of the drug from the pony's system, there were a few zebra herbs mixed in that neutralized the... she used a big word that I didn't understand, restating it as 'active ingredient' of dash, blocking it from having any further effect unless more of the drug was inhaled. She seemed resentful over that, until I reminded her that dash itself came from the zebras. She said nothing more on the subject.

The entire population of Trottingham waited on bated breath to see May return to health. After almost a week, she was finally up and about again. The first thing she did was tend to Rottingtail's leg, which had been in its brace for a week. She puttered and tisked over it, but spared him a lecture when informed that he had damaged it in the process of helping me find the dash purger. Still, using the same methods as before, she was able to patch up his leg and remove the brace without difficulty.

“I never actually thanked you,” May said to me as she shooed Rottingtail out of her clinic.

“To be honest,” I replied, “I wasn't expecting you to.”

May looked ashamed; “Hindsight is always perfect,” she muttered. “I just needed a good friend to show me where I went wrong.”

I pulled May into a hug. “Nopony's perfect. That's why we have friends; to pick us up when we fall, to give us strength when we're weak, and to occasionally give us a kick in the ass when we need one.”

May snickered and hugged me back. She let out a sigh; “You were right though. About Buttercup, and everything else. She never would have wanted to see me destroying myself when I could have been helping other ponies.”

“You weren't destroying yourself,” I countered. “You just made a mistake. The only thing that really messed you up was Flam's 'enhanced' batch.”

May shook her head; “It only hit me so hard because I've been using the regular stuff for so long. If I'd never started in the first place, this never would have happened.”

“You could just as easily blame me for that though,” I claimed. “I had plenty of opportunities to try and help you before, but I never followed through because I didn't think you were that bad. I thought it would be wrong to deny you a small pleasure so long as you could handle it.”

“It may have taken longer than either of us knew was better,” said May, “but you still did the right thing. Thank you.”

“It's not like I don't have problems of my own though,” I groused, telling her about how I had flipped out and nearly strangled Flam.

She seemed to think otherwise. “It's not that shocking really, considering how strongly you felt. Frankly, I think it's good for you to get mad every once in a while. Trying to force yourself or others to be happy all the time would be insane.”

I was a little wary of that. Sure, happiness wasn't something that could be forced, but it's not like I felt better about getting angry. “Still, I don't like the thought that I could flip out on somepony like that. Even if he did deserve it.”

May patted me on the shoulder. “I really don't think you have anything to worry about. Your heart was in the right place and you were doing it to help me. So long as you're still trying to help other ponies, I think you'll be alright.”

“Speaking of helping other ponies,” I nickered, “you should be getting back to work.”

“My goodness, you're right,” May replied jut as wryly. “If I recall correctly, you've got some work to catch up on yourself.”

Oh! May was right. With everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten to unload my wares from the caravan. Looking out the window of May's clinic, I could see my wagon sitting across the street in front of the Trottingham Trading Post. I shot her a smirk and then scurried out of the clinic and over to my shop. After a quick check to make sure nothing had 'mysteriously' disappeared, I began to move the supplies into my shop. It wasn't that I didn't trust my fellow ghouls of course, it was just a merchant's instinct.

It took me most of the afternoon to unload and store the contents of my wagon. The last thing I had to unload was some ammunition I had procured for Rottingtail and the rest of the militia. I moved my wagon around to the rear of the building before picking up the ammo boxes and flying over to the Sheriff's Shanty. Once there, I decided to spend the rest of the day with Apple Crumble and Rottingtail. I had been neglecting them while I was tending to May, and wanted to spend some long overdue quality time with them relaxing. Looking back, I was glad I chose to enjoy that evening, because it was the last peaceful one I would have for some time.

***

I awoke early the following morning in Rottingtail's room on the second floor of the Sheriff's Shanty. The ever napping ghoul sheriff was not roused by my wakefulness, but I left him be for now. I proceeded downstairs, finding Apple Crumble asleep on Rottingtail's hammock. It must run in the family, I thought playfully. I patted the ghoul colt's head softly before leaving the room, closing the door behind me.

Trotting around Rottingtail's desk, I decided to amuse myself by turning on an old radio. I fiddled with it, trying to find DJ P0N-3's broadcast. I came across music, but it wasn't anything that I knew to be on the DJ's playlist. The song was an instrumental number that was heavy on tuba, accordion and harmonia, a strange mix, yet mildly uplifting. It was the same music that had poured from the two sprite-bots I had encountered that were not inside the MoM Trottingham hub. It struck me again as strange that they had appeared all of a sudden, seemingly at the same time, and now their music was everywhere too. Then there was that strange yet helpful voice that had told me where to find the dash purger for May. The wasteland is full of mysteries it seemed.

I continued fiddling with the radio until I found the MASEBS frequency, although it was never called that anymore, not after four generations of DJ P0N-3 bringing music and news to the wasteland. I came in on the tail end of one of Sweetie Belle's more upbeat songs. It came to an end and the voice of a very enthusiastic buck took its place. The P0N-3 mantle had changed hooves a couple more times in the past few decades, although I hadn't known any of their names since Remix.

“Good morning wastelanders! This is DJ P0N-3 and this news segment goes out to all you early birds listening at this Goddessless hour. Now, I know you all hate bad news, so I'm gonna get this one out of the way first. The last surviving member of the Stalliongrad Seven passed away recently. He was found two days ago, and the cause of death is believed to be alcohol poisoning.”

My ears drooped, not simply because a drug related death made my mind turn to dark places involving May. The last two DJ's had talked about the Stalliongrad Seven; they had been a group of young colts and fillies living in Stalliongrad when the Iron Mare saved the city from manticores. Inspired by her, they had set out together after they had grown up. They became a group of heroes, trying to save the wasteland like their idol had. Most of them had suffered unfortunate ends, and the last two survivors had retired years ago.

“May Celestia and Luna see the seven friends reunited after their long separation. The Stalliongrad Seven will be sorely missed, but so long as there are ponies out there willing to step up and fight the good fight, they will never be forgotten.

“On a less depressing, if a bit more mysterious note, I'm sure by now you've all heard the strange other radio broadcast that started drifting across the Equestrian Wasteland. As well, you've probably come across one of the old MoM flying radios, sprite-bots a source tells me they're called, pumping this stuff out all over the wasteland all of a sudden. First of all, I want to assure you that this is not my doing. If I was going to use a bunch of flying radios, I'd at least play some decent music, not this brassy, pseudo-patriotic stuff.

“Where did it come from then, I hear you asking. Well, your pal DJ P0N-3 managed to trace the signal through a series of relays back to the city of Fillydelphia. Apparently the broadcast is coming from an old MoM hub located in an amusement park. Apparently the Steel Rangers, that enigmatic group of ponies in old magical power armour, have been fiddling about in the Fillydelphia ruins, and seem to be the ones responsible for starting the old bots up again.”

I cocked an eyebrow curiously at the mention of the Steel Rangers. They mostly seemed to keep to themselves, collecting and hoarding technology. I had only heard about them a few times in passing since meeting Gizmo all those years ago. Given the injuries he had suffered from radiation exposure and the amount of time that had passed, I suspected he was no longer alive. That brought a touch of melancholy to my heart, swiftly replaced by a curiosity as to what had become of little Emerald.

“Speaking of the Steel Ranger, I've noticed that groups of them have been popping up outside of Fillydelphia recently. Most prominently, a group seems to have settled themselves into a long opened and emptied Stable at Bucklyn Cross. That place is a little closer to the detonation crater than most folks are comfortable with, but the Ranger's armour seems to be helping them keep their cool.

“Now, I may be getting optimistic here, but I can't help but wonder if, after years of collecting old technology, they might be spreading out in order to start putting it to good use. Wouldn't that be the damnedest thing? One of my predecessors was concerned about their excessive firepower, but could you imagine if they started using it to clear out monsters and raiders and other horrors? As much as that would be nice, let's just keep our eyes on 'em for the time being. I'll let you know more as soon as I can get some solid intel.”

The news segment cut out to more music; all songs that I had heard countless times before. I was a little unsure about the broadcast. The Steel Rangers had been willing to help Stable Dwellers before, but even in Gizmo's case, they had wanted something out of it. If I knew that somepony like Gizmo or Steelhooves was in charge, this might be something to look forward to. Instead, I just felt worried.

***

The door to the Sheriff's Shanty burst open, admitting a unicorn ghoul that I knew to be a member of Rottingtial's militia. He was panting, looking exhausted, like he had just run a marathon. He had, in fact, run in from one of the patrols that circled our little town. Along his side were a number of small wounds that looked like either shrapnel cuts or small bullet wounds. He was wearing leather armour, but it looked to be in tatters. He wasn't carrying a weapon or battle saddle, which worried me.

“Are you alright?” I demanded. Obviously he was not, but I asked instinctively.

“We got trouble,” replied the militia member frantically. “The Steel Rangers are coming!”

My face twisted into an expression of shock. This had to be a coincidence, right? Before asking anything else, I flew back upstairs to wake Rottingtail. As much as he loved sleeping, it was very easy to rouse him when told that one of his militia members came back looking like he had been attacked. Rottingtail quickly donned his armour and battle saddle before heading back downstairs. The speed at which he descended the staircase made me worry he was going to throw his bad leg out again.

“What happened?” barked the sheriff as soon as he was in front of the militia unicorn.

“Group four was out on patrol,” replied the unicorn, his voice carrying the accent I now associated with Trottingham natives. “We were a few miles out when a whole mess of those Steel Rangers showed up. Didn't even stop to explain themselves, just started shooting at us. I got lucky, and managed to get away, but the rest of the patrol is dead.”

Rottingtail scowled. “The hell do they think they're doin'?”

The milita unicorn spoke up again; “I was able to outrun them because that heavy armour of theirs slowed them down, but they'll be here any minute now.”

Rottingtail nodded his affirmation. “Right, get yourself over to May's and have her patch you up. Then start rounding up the rest of the militia who aren't currently on duty. Get them armed and ready; if this comes to a fight, we're gonna need everypony.”

“Right,” replied the ghoul buck. He hobbled out of the Sheriff's Shanty and began heading towards May's clinic.

I turned to Rottingtail, managing to keep both my eyes focused on him. “Why would the Steel Rangers be coming here?”

The sheriff shook his head; “Ah've no idea. Ah know they don't look too kindly on ghouls, but they've left us alone this long. Yer guess is as good as mine.”

I glanced back to the radio, then told him about the broadcast I had just heard from DJ P0N-3. “Maybe they're just looking to set up a contingent here.”

Rottingtail looked unconvinced; “We know they hate ghouls, and they slaughtered that patrol without even thinking. I highly doubt they're here for a friendly chitchat.”

“Maybe there's something here that they want,” I suggested, though I wasn't sure how well I believed that myself. “We should at least try talking to them first. If this turns into a battle, a lot of ponies are going to get hurt. There's too much of that in the wasteland already; I don't want to start a fight if we don't need to.”

Rottingtail snorted, but relented. “Alright, Ah'll try talkin' first, but if they take the first shot, Ah ain't holdin' anythin' back.” I nodded, then he shot me a smirk. “Yer a bit too nice fer yer own good sometimes.”

I chuckled, but that was really just to cover my worries. Trottingham was the one place in the wasteland that was truly a safe haven for ghouls, and had been so for more than forty years. I really hoped we could keep it that way without the need to stain our community with blood.

Before leaving the Sheriff's Shanty, I flew over to a gun cabinet off to the side of the room. Within was contained Stronghoof's rifle, as well as a few other weapons the militia made use of. I kept the gun here because I preferred to use the storage space of my own store for general trade goods and supplies. I slung the rifle over my back by its strap and lined my packs with a decent quantity of ammo for it. I didn't want to have to use the weapon, but if the Steel Rangers wouldn't listen to us, I wasn't going to let them destroy our town to satisfy their bigotry. I seriously hoped there was at least one of them who thought the way Gizmo did.

***

Departing quickly from the Sheriff's Shanty, Rottingtail and I dashed towards the main gate as quickly as we could. I could see other militia members converging on the wall, roused by the unicorn from the patrol. I was only slightly relived that there hadn't been any shooting yet; we still had time before the Steel Rangers arrived. Rottingtail grunted as he strained his bad leg to keep pace with me, but didn't say anything. Not wanting him to injure himself before a potential fight, I took to the air and wrapped my hooves around him. Lifting him while he was wearing his battle saddle was tricky, but I managed.

I reached the gate within a few minutes, setting Rottingtail down at the dead center of the walkway that crossed the wall behind it. On either side I could see the heavy chain guns manned by militia ghouls. They looked nervous, and Rottingtail walked around to them, trying to ease their nerves. The wall was defensible and the fields surrounding Trottingham gave little to no cover. I was counting on the Steel Rangers knowing that a direct assault against the gate would be foolish, which would give us room to talk first.

I slipped Stronghoof's rifle off my back and braced it against the upper edge of the wall. Pressing my good eye to the scope, I scouted the surrounding fields for the incoming Steel Rangers. I spotted them in the distance, marching forward as a single unit towards our town. Not all of the ones I could see were wearing the signature magical power armour of the Rangers, but they were hanging back to keep pace with the ones who were. At their current pace, they would be within optimal sniping range, and I wasn't the only one on the wall with a scoped rifle. However, we did not fire first; we weren't going to be the ones who started the fight.

As the group of Steel Rangers came within range of the wall, I was able to see their ranks more clearly. There were two dozen of them in all. Half of their number were wearing the fully enclosed suits of magical armour, and they all seemed to be equipped with some variety of ridiculously huge battle saddle or another. Nine more earth ponies stood amongst them, more lightly armoured and armed. The small herd was led by a trio of unicorns, one of whom stood at the head of the others.

I trained the scope of my rifle on the lead unicorn. It was a mare with a dirty green coat. She was dressed in a battle dress made of light armoured mesh. She was an ugly, stern looking mare with a ragged, short cropped mane of aged silver. Half of her face was scarred horribly, making me think a grenade had blown up near her head. That face seemed to be constantly locked in a glower. She looked in my direction, as though she could tell I was looking at her. The look on her face suggested that, unlike Gizmo at Stable Sixty-Seven, she was not looking to play the benevolent envoy.

The unicorn mare stepped forward, her horn igniting with magical light. She belted out, the magic amplification of her voice identical to the spell that May knew. “Attention Trottingham!” She sounded disgusted at the very idea of addressing ghouls directly. I kept the cross-hairs trained on her head, already feeling that my hopes might be a bust. “I am Emerald, High Scribe of the Sword and envoy of the Steel Rangers. The Stable beneath this city and much of what remains above is rightfully the property of the Ministry of Wartime Technology. We have come to reclaim it, and will allow you to keep your wretched lives if you surrender and depart from the city immediately.”

My jaw dropped in shock; it couldn't be. My mind immediately conjured the image of the small, soft green unicorn filly from Stable Sixty-Seven. The innocent little mare who was willing to believe that I was under the curse of an evil enchantress. The one that I had given a slice of prewar cake to in order to help keep her calm. Gizmo's adopted daughter. This mare couldn't be that sweet little Emerald... could she? Surely there were other mares with that name. And that colour of coat. Right?

I was snapped back to the present when my rifle slipped from the wall, as I had stopped bracing it. The strap caught on my neck, causing the weapon to swing back and strike me in the chest. Beside me, Rottingtail stood on a crate to give himself a better view of the encroaching group of Steel Rangers. I reached to bring my rifle back up, but found myself hesitating. If this really was the same Emerald I had saved all those years ago, I couldn't hurt her. It just wouldn't be right.

Rottingtail didn't know who Emerald was, and only hesitated a moment before calling out in response. “You got some nerve. You kill one of our patrols, march on our city, and then demand that we leave?! Where in the hell do you get off?”

I was conflicted and torn up inside. A part of me wanted to believe that this mare who called herself Emerald was not the same young filly I had rescued from that Stable in Fillydelphia. The idea that such a cute, sweet filly could say the things she was saying, and have that cold, steely look in her eyes, was preposterous. The rest of me wondered, if they were one and the same, what had happened to make her so twisted? It was like the beautiful, multi-faceted gem for which she was named had cracked and fractured; turning into something hard and broken.

“I do not need to explain myself to the likes of you,” snapped Emerald, a touch of malice in her magically amplified voice. “Depart from the city now, while we still let you.”

“Ah'm tellin' ya right now, that ain't how this is goin' down,” snapped Rottingtail. “Now then, Ah'm Sheriff Rottingtail, and Ah helped found this town. A third of our residents come outta that Stable yer talkin' about layin' claim to. From what Ah know of the folk round here versus what ya'll have shown me so far, they're much more deservin'.”

“You abominations deserve nothing more than death!” roared Emerald. “You are a mistake created by some fluke of wicked magic, and the only reason I gave you the chance to leave with your miserable lives is that I did not want to waste resources that are far more valuable than your rotten hides.”

Rottingtail raised his hoof, about to object further, but was cut off as Emerald's horn ignited with a fresh surge of magical energy. A blast of lightning tore through the air from her horn, striking Rottingtail squarely in the chest. He grunted in pain as the impact sent him reeling. He toppled from his box and slipped off the gate entirely, plummeting towards the ground. I reacted instinctively, diving off the wall after him and flying underneath him. I caught Rottingtail's stunned form on my back, slowing ever so slightly in the air before we hit the ground. I coughed violently as the wind was knocked out of me, Rottingtail's body sprawled over top of me.

I forced myself to my hooves, panting. Rottingtail was groaning from the injury he had sustained, but he was alive. Everything was quiet for a short while. Once I had my hooves under me, I focused on trying to make my wings work. I winced as I tried to flap them; the fall had sprained my right wing, maybe even broken it. I folded it back against my side and began to run, still carrying Rottingtail on my back, towards May's clinic.

As I ran away from the gate, I heard Emerald voice boom out once more; “This is your last opportunity; make yourselves scarce or you shall be struck down just as-”

Emerald's voice was drowned out as the chain guns on the wall began to open fire on the Steel Rangers. They were loud enough to drown out even the magically enhanced voice, as well as any other gunfire that might have come from the militia ghouls positioned on the wall. Not even death cries of any Rangers struck down by the barrage could be heard over the din. What could be heard was the massive amounts of explosive ordinance that was fired in return by the Steel Rangers. Even while running away, I could hear the thunder and see the edges of the flash as the gate was blown inwards with the fury of a full contingent of Steel Rangers. Trottingham was besieged.

***

I had galloped a good distance away from the gate when Rottingtail became coherent again. “What happened?” he asked warily.

“Emerald shot lightning at you,” I replied, still galloping forward. “I'm taking you to May's.”

I felt Rottingtail squirm around on my back. The sound of explosions and gunfire were permeating the air all around us. “There's no time! Those Steel Rangers are ridiculously tough, and we're gonna need some heavier ordinance to take them down. We need to get to the armoury back at the Sheriff's Shanty.”

“You're in no condition to be fighting anypony,” I protested, “especially a small army of power armoured Rangers.”

“No choice,” he barked; “if we don't fight back, we're gonna get slaughtered.”

Rottigntail rolled himself off my back, forcing me to stop and turn around. He struggled to get his hooves under him, but couldn't manage to work his front legs through the injury. He reached back into his packs, pulling out a healing potion that he swiftly guzzled. I watched at the searing wound from the lightning blast began to mend. Once the burn had faded, Rottingtail was able to stand, although his bad leg still looked uneasy. He began to trot as quickly as he could, heading towards the Sheriff's Shanty instead of May's clinic.

As much as I wanted to object, Rottingtail had a point. The Steel Rangers never had any intention of backing down or cooperating with us, and Emerald's words had made that painfully clear. The only real hope Trottingham had now was to drive them away. Reluctantly, I galloped after Rottingtail, catching up to him quickly because of his hobbled gait. The sounds of the battle followed closely behind us, with a painful emphasis on the explosive and high calibre ordinance of the Rangers. I looked back at my sprained wing and grimaced. Neither of us were very fleet of foot, and if I could fly we'd have gotten to the Shanty already.

Rottingtail was galloping as best he could, pushing his bad leg far more than he should have been. “When we get to the Shanty, I'll gather up our heavier gear and start bringing it to bear.” He looked across to me sternly. “Ditzy, I want you t' take Apple Crumble and start gatherin' up as many of the civilians as y'can. Take 'em into the sewer tunnels; I don't want nopony who isn't fightin' to get caught in the crossfire. At least, not more'n we can help.”

I nodded solemnly. “Should I come back up and help afterwards?”

Rottingtail shook his head; “No, stay down there and keep guard over them. If things go bad up here, start leadin' 'em away.”

“But-” I protested. Rottingtail cut me off.

“The odds are against us here,” he stated firmly. “Ah ain't about t'see a bunch of innocents slaughtered cuz of some bull-headed bigots with big guns. We gotta fight back, show 'em we ain't gonna just lay down and take it, but most of the ghouls here ain't fighters. Those that are are already fightin' and diein', and there's no need for those who aren't to suffer for it.”

Before I could respond further, the roar of a rocket launcher sounded behind us. Without stopping to think, I tackled Rottingtail to the ground, rolling over each other as we tumbled. I heard the rocket whoosh past us, and my lazy eye seemed to follow it. The rocket had missed us, but had flown right into the Sheriff's Shanty, which was dead ahead at the end of the street. The entire first floor of the building lit up with an explosion that tore apart its foundations. The rest simply collapsed in on itself.

Rottingtail and I were back on our hooves and running towards the building again, driven by the hope that there might still be something to salvage from the wreckage. It was only when we reached the demolished building when the truth hit me. Apple Crumble had still been inside. When all this madness started, neither of us had seen fit to wake him from his nap in Rottingtail's hammock. All thought of the battle raging behind us fled as we scrambled around to the rear of the building.

“Crumble!” shouted Rottingtail, sifting desperately through the rubble and scrap metal that his former home had been reduced to.

While sifting through another pile of rubble, I found the tangled remains of the hammock. Next to them was Apple Crumble, the lower half of his body pinned beneath a chunk of concrete. “Over here!” I called, drawing Rottingtail close with a wave of my hoof.

Without responding, he bounded over to me faster than I thought he would be able to manage. He looked at Crumble, then to me, and finally at the chunk of rubble pinning his nephew. The ghoul colt wasn't moving. Wordlessly, Rottingtail threw his packs off in front of him and pulled out a pair of items. One was a bottle of buck, while the other a complicated looking injector that I had never seen before. He quickly opened the bottle of pills and downed three of them without chewing. He waited a moment for the drug to take effect.

As soon as the buck kicked in, Rottingtail turned his backside to the slab of concrete. He rose up on his front legs, which I knew couldn't be good for his bad one, and braced both of his rear legs against the debris. With a strained grunt, he pushed back with his hind hooves, lifting the rubble with strength I knew he wouldn't have possessed without the buck in his system. He pushed it up and away from his pinned nephew, who I immediately pulled free.

I gasped in shock as soon as I could see the rest of Crumble's body. There wasn't much of it. Both of his hind legs were gone, and everything below his waist was scorched and torn apart. Bits of his entrails had burst out of his side under the pressure of the falling concrete. He had almost certainly been dead before the building collapsed on him. I had to look away, unable to stomach the sight of his mangled body. My gaze fell on Rottingtail.

Rottingtail stared at his nephew's corpse blankly for what felt like an eternity. Then, all of a sudden, his face twisted into a look of the most intense, righteous fury I had seen in a long time. Before I could stop him, he dove for the injector that he had pulled out alongside the bottle of buck. He deftly pulled the needle up and jabbed it into his left flank, pumping himself with the entire contents of... whatever that was. Moments later, he turned his gaze forward, the injector falling to the ground. His eyes went wide; he raised his head back and let out the single most terrifying, ear-splitting, inequine scream of rage that I had ever heard. I had to cover my ears to shield myself from the horror of the sound. When it stopped, I looked up to see Rottingtail running off into the fray, my call for him to wait drowned out by explosions, gunfire, and the death screams of too many innocent ghouls.

***

I was suddenly and excruciatingly aware of how one sided the battle raging before me was. Within the range of vision provided by my eyes glancing in different directions, I could see that at least half of the shanty town we ghouls had built was ablaze. I watched as a militia unicorn whose name I had forgotten opened fire point blank on an armoured Ranger with an assault carbine, only for the Ranger to step back, entirely unfazed, and kill her with a back mounted heavy machine-gun. I watched as Scatter fired both of her grenade rifles at another enemy, only for the armour to take the brunt of the damage, allowing the Ranger to return fire with a grenade machine-gun, forcing her to dive for cover, hoping to avoid being blown apart long enough to reload.

I watched as an entire group of militia ghouls were mowed down by a Ranger with two miniguns built into his armour. The Ranger did not stop shooting after they were dead, sweeping his arc of leaden death to a large group of civilians that the militia had been trying to protect while they fled. I could only watch in horror as they were reduced to rotten meat. Ahead of the minigunner, another Ranger equipped with twin flamethrowers was spraying the inside of every nearby building with fire, agonized death screams following in her wake. As a large group of civilians move to flee, the flamer turned her weapons on them, and began to give chase, laughing in sadistic pleasure.

I wanted to scream, to cry out, to move, to do anything. I couldn't; I was paralysed, transfixed on the carnage playing out before me. I fell to my haunches, unable to do anything. The flamer Ranger closed in on the group of innocent residents of what was once a safe haven for them. Soon their cries could join the cacophony of death that filled the city. My right eye rolled up, catching a pink and brown streak falling from the sky, its front edge laced with green and yellow. The blur collided with the flamethrower Ranger, who promptly exploded. The fuel tanks of the twin flamethrowers ignited instantly, washing the fleeing ghouls nearest the back with flame. The rest were given a chance to escape.

It took my mind several achingly long seconds to process what had happened. Something had attacked the Steel Ranger, and the massive jet of flames had caught the attention of the other three nearby. There was a dark shadow moving behind the pyre that the dead Ranger had become. The figure that had fallen from the sky stepped through the curtain of fire. She was a glorious sight; the griffon from Canterlot had returned. Aside from being singed, she looked surprisingly unharmed considering her proximity to the massive explosion. I wondered if that armour fused to her body had shielded her.

After stepping over the corpse of the exploded Ranger, the griffon reared up on her hind paws. She held her talons aloft, allowing me to see what had caused the explosion. The arcano-tech device melded to her claws was alive with magical sparks, wreathing them in fiery green plasma. I had to assume that it also prevented said plasma from melting her claws off. The griffon let out a shriek. It was not as terrifying as Rottingtail's earlier cry; instead, it was a welcome crow of the first real chance of victory we had since the fight began. It also pulled the attention of all three of the Rangers I could see towards her. They opened fire.

The griffon deftly threw herself into the air, completely avoiding the volley sent at her. The grenadier's assault tore up the ground where she had just been standing, eviscerating what was left of their former comrade. She tore threw the air at alarming speed, dropping straight down on top of the explosive specialist. The Ranger's body crumpled under the force of her pounce, his spine almost assuredly broken. Making certain of her kill, the griffon dug her plasma laced claws into the Ranger's shoulders. The magical flames coupled with the razor sharp talons cut through the heavy armour like a hot knife through butter. She tore the Ranger's front legs clean off at the shoulder, leaving him to slump to the ground in a heap.

“Is this the best you canned dweebs can do?” She squawked, rolling away from a stream of suppressive fire thrown in her direction from the two Rangers still standing. “I've met corpses with more fight!” Was she referring to herself, or was I missing the joke?

I was in awe of the Canterlot-ghoul. I didn't know much about the Talons, other than that they were mercenaries, but apparently being a ghoul didn't slow this one down. She was incredibly agile; able to weave in and out of sprays of bullets without stopping. I was tempted to cheer her on, but I worried that I might be a distraction. She wasn't fast enough to avoid all of the massive amount of ordinance being fired, possibly owing to the fact that her wings were decayed and featherless. However, that impressive armour she wore seemed more than capable of preventing any fatal hits.

“Seriously,” she called out tauntingly, “you fuckers think you're so big because you've got all the big guns and fancy armour.” She leapt into the air, diving towards the Ranger with the back mounted heavy machine-gun. “But really, all you've ever fought before are small fry. Did you think you would always be the biggest badasses out here?”

The griffon, whose named I still hadn't learned, landed with catlike tread in front of her intended prey. I made a mental note to at least ask her name when this was all over. The Ranger's weapon came to bear, but clicked on an empty chamber. I could see the griffon smirk; she had planned that. She jabbed into the armoured pony's breast with a talon, the plasma lined claw punching deep into his body. With a powerful shriek, she pulled the pony's heart clean out of his chest, the plasma roasting the organ even as she held it aloft like a prize. As the dead Ranger toppled over, she consumed the heart in a single gulp. I had to look away to avoid vomiting.

And then she was dead. The minigunner had reloaded while she was eating the pony's heart, and had fired on her, pinning her under a stream of heavy fire. While her armour proved as impressive as ever, the fact that she could not get out of the way of the constant fire led to her perforation. The minigunner did not stop firing until his guns were completely emptied into the griffon. Despite this, she was still mostly intact when she slumped to the ground, riddled with bullets.

On her own, the griffon had killed three of the power armoured Rangers. Two more, I would learn later, had been cut down at the gate by the chain gun sentries before the gate had been destroyed. It dawned on me that those wearing power armour were the crux of the Steel Ranger's advantage. If they could all be taken out, then we might have a chance to win after all. The cost had already been too great; we couldn't just give up and lose everything.

I brought the scope of my rifle up to my good eye, closing my bad one and bracing the rifle on a nearby chunk of debris. Through the scope, I watched as the Ranger trotted cautiously closer to the griffon's corpse, wanting to make sure he had killed her. I trained the cross-hairs on the Ranger's head, which I was currently looking at from the side. I tongued the trigger, my rifle letting out a resounding crack. A heartbeat later, the shot struck the Ranger with a heavy clang.

I could see the Ranger stagger sideways from the impact of the shot, but it had not punched through his helmet. The armour Applejack had created was meant to be virtually indestructible. I shuddered at what she might think if she knew what it was being used for now. The shot had stunned the Ranger momentarily, but it had also made him aware that I was here. I lined up another shot as I cocked the custom bolt of the rifle, bringing the next round into the chamber.

I heard a loud series of clicks as the Ranger's miniguns reloaded. If he started to fire, I would be reduced to pulp. I didn't plan on giving him that opportunity. I fired off my next shot, aimed at the visor of the armour's helmet. I hoped that it was thin enough for a rifle as powerful as this one to be able to punch through without armour-piercing ammunition. The shot struck the Ranger's helm just below the eye; my shot had slipped a quarter inch when the rubble I was bracing on shifted slightly.

However, my shot was not without merit. When it connected, the Ranger's helmet began to spark violently around the eyes and neck. The Ranger took a step backwards, his helmeted head looking about frantically. I must have damaged something, as the Ranger began to hoof at the helmet, looking like he was trying to remove it. I cocked the bolt of my rifle once more; as soon as his helmet came off, I was taking a shot right at his head. I didn't get the chance.

There was a sound I could only describe as 'unholy', and the griffon got back up. In spite of being shot full of holes (and dead moments earlier), she grabbed the chest of the minigunner with her talons, dragging him up to eye level with her. “Here, let me help you with that,” she snarled.

The griffon brought up her free talon, the arcano-tech device sparking to life and igniting a fresh wreath of plasma. Using a single claw, she cut a line across the face of the Ranger's helmet. Then, with brute strength alone, she bent the metal back and tossed the sundered helm aside, glaring directly into the eyes of the rather terrified looking Steel Ranger. In the process of removing the helmet, she had gouged out one of them. His miniguns fired a burst, but the bullets all flew over the griffon's head at that angle.

“Let me ask you something,” snarled the griffon, holding a flaming talon close enough to the Ranger's head to cake the blood that was streaming from his destroyed eye. “You guys came here thinking you were pretty hot shit. Did you ever stop to consider what would happen if you ran into someone who was better than you?”

“P-please,” stammered the Ranger, “I surrender!”

“Not an option,” snapped the griffon. “You start a fight, you got no right to bitch when someone else ends it. Now, getting back to my question; there will always be that one person that, no matter what you do, will always be better than you. What do you think you do when you pick a fight with that someone?”

The Steel Ranger had no response; he simply squirmed, trying to loose himself from the Griffon's grasp.

“Time's up,” she squawked. “The answer is: you die! Just like I did. You should be thanking me though; at least you won't have to live with the shame of being killed by me for the rest of your unlife.” With that, she tore the head of the Steel Ranger cleanly off, dropping the body in a pool of blood that widened as the headless corpse bled out.

***

Before moving off to fight elsewhere, the griffon began preening herself. She checked over her armour, occasionally plucking out a bullet lodged inside with her talons. I took the opportunity to gallop over to her. She tensed when she saw me coming, raising a talon, but lowered it upon recognizing me. She looked away from me, glancing down at the decapitated Ranger. She spat a wad of pinkish phlegm on the corpse. In spite of her previous attitude towards me, I was tempted to tackle her into a hug.

“Y'know,” she said, smirking at me, “I never would have expected a wall-eyed feather brain like you to be such a crack shot.”

“You saw that?” I asked, stopping short in surprise.

“Heard it,” she replied conversationally. A small part of me was annoyed that she was so quick to drop her combat seriousness, but I couldn't help but be curious. “Two shots, both connected with his head. Most ponies aren't good enough with that kind of firing bolt to pull that off. It's a griffon design.”

“I custom fitted the bolt to make it easier to fire,” I noted, looking down at my weapon. I had not known it was a griffon made weapon. However, I had a more pressing confusion; “How are you not dead?”

The griffon actually chuckled; “Canterlot ghouls are really hard to put down. That's necromancy for you.”

I nodded, not wanting to press the issue, considering it had been part of her rant at the now headless Ranger. “I never got your name before,” I noted, reminding myself of what I had told myself earlier.

“I never gave it,” she sneered in response; “...Gilda.”

Was that the name of the griffon that had once come to Ponyville? It would explain a lot, but it was so long ago that I couldn't remember clearly. Still, pleasantries aside, I needed to ask her; “How bad is it out there?”

She snorted, but responded anyways; “I did a flyby before jumping into the fray. Your gunners at the gate managed to drop two of the heavies before getting blown apart. With the four I took out, half of them are dead.” That was good, wasn't it? “Unfortunately, most of your militia is toast. Those left have been doing hit and run while trying to get the surviving civilians into the tunnels.”

It was interesting how the seriousness of Gilda's tone changed so drastically when she began talking about combat. Probably came with being a mercenary. “Do we have a chance at all?”

The griffon rolled her eyes, apparently thinking the question stupid. “Were you watching me? I'm gonna have to do most of the work, but all these guys have is fancy gear. Haven't seen one yet who has the ca-hones to match me in a straight fight. Although...” she noted, glancing at my rifle, “I wouldn't mind some cover.”

***

Before we had the chance to go find more Rangers to fight off, Gilda tensed again, turning away from me and facing down the smouldering street. Two more Steel Rangers were galloping towards us, bringing the fight right to us. One of them was Emerald, the other one of the unicorns that had stood with her at the head of their herd. She came to a stop several yards short of the two of us. She looked to me, then the griffon, then down at the Ranger she had decapitated. She slowly scanned the area around us, taking in the bodies of her fallen comrades.

Emerald turned her cold, stern gaze on the griffon. The unicorn next to her seemed shocked; “By the Goddesses, what is that thing?”

“Just another abomination, Scribe Cottage,” replied Emerald, not taking her gaze off Gilda. “Though it seems your suspicions about Paladin Torch were correct.”

Gilda sneered at the unicorns; “This abomination just wasted four of your paladins on her own. I'd watch what you say.”

Emerald seemed neither intimidated nor impressed; “The fact that they fell to you means they were simply undeserving of their titles and ranks. Scribe Cottage Cheese, please note that Paladins Torch, Geiger, Lead and Lily are all posthumously demoted.”

Gilda gaped at the Steel Ranger unicorns; “Wow, and I thought I was a bitch.” Emerald said nothing in response. “Still, you've seen what I can do. I recommend getting out of my way before I carve you into mincemeat. Might wanna take the rest of your so called 'paladins' with you before they get post-whatever demoted too.”

Emerald was unfazed; she actually too a step towards the griffon. “I shall be dealing with you myself. Scribe Cottage, see to it that the tags of the fallen are gathered for recording in the archives.” The smaller unicorn nodded fervently, but seemed unwilling to approach the fallen Rangers while Gilda stood in his way.

Gilda actually burst out laughing; “You? You're going to fight me?” A wide, yet ugly smirk grew across her beak. “You're a scribe; an egghead. What makes you think you have ANY business challenging a Talon with over a hundred years of combat experience?”

Emerald said nothing more, she simply lowered her head and kicked at the dirt. Gilda rolled her eyes; “You're kidding, right?”

Emerald was not kidding. She charged towards the griffon wordlessly, her head low and her body limber. Gilda took that as foolish, and pounced towards the unicorn, talons outstretched and once again wreathed in green flame. When the griffon was nearly on top of her, Emerald nimbly rolled onto her back, using her momentum to continued sliding underneath Gilda, who had now overshot her. She thrust a forehoof upwards into the griffon's breast with enough force to actually make her gag. I heard the crack of ribs breaking. Gilda crashed and skidded close enough to the scribe called Cottage to make him prance backwards a few paces. Emerald came out of her slide with another deft roll, righting herself and looking back towards the fallen griffon.

Gilda forced herself to her feet; groaning. She clutched at her breast with a talon, using the other one to steady herself. “Okay, not just an egghead then. Read a few zebra martial arts books have you?”

Emerald again said nothing, focusing completely on Gilda's movements. I was transfixed; I had seen Gilda fight, and it now seemed that Emerald was no slouch either. I was momentarily tempted to take a shot at the other scribe, but like me he seemed intently focused on the other two dueling in front of us. Neither one of us could hope to be a match for these two warriors.

Gilda pushed herself into the air, freeing up her talons. They sparked briefly as they were once again sheathed in plasma. Emerald did not move, her horn glowing instead. A cascade of glowing lights appeared around her, forming into arcane missiles, which she launched towards the griffon. Despite being caught by the surprise ranged attack, Gilda rolled nimbly through the air, avoiding the cascade of arcane death. Emerald launched another wave, only for the griffon to dive under them and charge through the air at her.

Emerald was blindingly fast; when Gilda was mere inches away from her, she turned on the spot in what looked like a ballet twirl, reared up and slammed both of her hind hooves into the griffon's face. There was a crack, and Gilda's neck twisted unnaturally far from the force of the blow. The flames on her talons died and the odd pink light behind her eyes faded as her neck was broken. Carried by momentum, she slammed into the ground and slid to a halt next to me. Emerald turned back around and observed Gilda's body, not showing any signs of contentment at her apparent victory.

After a few pregnant moments of quiet, that unholy sound came again, and Gilda stood up. Using her talons, she forcibly cracked her neck, pushing her head back into it's proper position. “Ow,” she groaned. Still, not even this seemed to faze Emerald, who simply observed the resurrection in silence.

“Are you alright?” I asked; concerned. The griffon had 'died' twice in a short time.

“Never better,” she grimaced.

I could tell she was lying. Between being pumped full of bullets and having her ribs broken, she had gotten slower. Emerald was presently unharmed, and had proven lethal at both close range and a distance. The only real advantage that Gilda had left was that she couldn't die. Emerald seemed to be taking stock of the Canterlot-ghoul, trying to find a way to make her stay down. I was really hoping there wasn't one. I had lost all perception of the battle consuming the rest of the town, as though the duel between these two would be the true decider of the entire conflict.

Gilda took to the air once more, unable to move as effectively on the ground. As soon as she took off, Emerald's horn lit up again. This time though, the magical energy that she summoned did not take the form of eldrich arrows. Instead, they formed into thin, crescent shaped magical blades that made a wicked whistling noise as they cut through the air. Gilda weaved around them, but slowed for a moment, clutching her injured breast. In that instant, one of the blades clipped her left wing, slicing half of it clean off. Gilda shrieked in pain and tumbled to the ground.

Even as the griffon fell, Emerald charged towards her. She hit the ground with a painful sounding thud, immediately struggling to get her legs back under her. Just as she was standing up, Emerald reached her, leaping over the griffon with a single bound. While travelling over her, Emerald stuck out with a hoof, hitting the griffon right where her neck met the base of her spine. She landed deftly and turned to face Gilda's hindquarters. The griffon did not move. She couldn't.

Emerald did not waste the opportunity she had created for herself. Summoning a single magical blade, she launched it over Gilda's back, the magic slicing cleanly through the griffon's exposed neck. She toppled over as her head rolled away. “And stay down this time,” growled Emerald.

***

Looking at the now headless Canterlot ghoul, I had a sinking feeling that words cannot describe. It was over; she wasn't getting back up after that. However, permeating my despair was a feeling of anger. So many innocent ghouls had died, and now the only one who might have given us a chance at winning back the city was gone too. After my long silence, I finally found my voice again.

“Emerald!” I screamed, pulling the unicorn's attention to me. Her expression remained as cold and neutral as it had been throughout her entire fight with Gilda. I knew she could kill me without any effort, but I still needed to confront her. “What the hell happened to you?”

Emerald spent several long seconds just looking at me. Then, her face broke into a cruel, malicious smile; “Well I'll be damned. Of all the places I could have met you again, Miss Ditzy Doo, to think it would be here.”

Well, at least she recognized me. That was a start. I tried to stare her down as best I could, despite knowing that this was likely going to get me killed. “Why?” I demanded.

She actually looked amused. “Why?” She smirked coldly. “I said this back at the gate; you ghouls are nothing but abominations who don't know they've died. Your existence is a blight on Equestria that we aim to end.”

“I saved your life,” I shot back. “This is what you decided to do with it?” I knew she wasn't telling me something. I'm not sure how I knew, but I was so certain of it. “What would Gizmo think?”

Emerald's cruel smirk faded instantly at the mention of her adopted father. “There is so much you do not know, and yet presume to understand, Ditzy Doo. What I stated was simply the way our current Elder likes to put it. But rather than explain my own reasons, perhaps I should show you.”

Before I could question what she meant, or even say anything other than 'bwah', Emerald charged towards me, her horn glowing. She was on me before I had time to move out of the way. She stopped just short of impaling my bad eye with her horn, which she instead pressed to my forehead. The world around me fell away with a strange flushing sensation.

<-=======ooO Ooo=======->

I had used a recollector before, and I had even had my own memories recorded a couple of times. This was similar, but not quite the same. Instead of reliving the memories in real time and exact detail, they played through my mind like a montage. I still absorbed all of the details of the memories, but in an extremely condensed form. What follows is the most important parts of what I saw in Emerald's memories.

The first experience was back while Emerald was still a foal. It was an odd feeling, suddenly being back in the body of a young filly, as well as being a unicorn. It can't have been long after I had rescued her from Stable Sixty-Seven. She (I? We? I wasn't sure if there was a proper way to address oneself inside somepony's else's memories) milled about the other survivors of the Stable. She was looking for her parents. When they were nowhere to be found, she approached Gizmo, asking if they could go back to the Stable and look for them. Gizmo shook his head and told her the truth. I could feel the tears streaming down her face as she wept; seemingly without end.

The memories sped forward, depositing me at a time further ahead. I was playing with Tulip, the yellow coated earth pony that had been her best friend, somewhere in Fillydelphia. We stopped as suddenly, a single shambling figure emerged from a nearby building. It was a ghoul pony. Tulip had gotten the same explanation as Emerald regarding ghouls from me, and trotted up to the ghoul merrily to introduce herself. This ghoul was feral, and it killed her. I watched in horror as the ghoul tore her apart, devouring chunks of her flesh. I ran away screaming for help, only able to get away because the ghoul was occupied with its meal.

Another flash forward deposited me in an audience among the Steel Rangers, looking up to a podium as Gizmo was appointed the new Elder. Emerald was now old enough to have her cutie mark, and I could feel the armoured scribe's robe draped over her body. Gizmo's first declaration as Elder was to say that the Steel Rangers should use what they have for the benefit of all the innocent ponies out there who were suffering. He took a group of Rangers, Emerald included, to a small settlement to try and treat with them. The settlers were paranoid and skittish, refusing to have anything to do with anypony outside their community. A sniper somewhere in their midst got spooked and took a shot; that single bullet tearing through Gizmo's visor and into his eye. As he slumped to the ground, Emerald ran to him, but he was already dead. The rest of the Steel Rangers, enraged by the loss of their Elder, assaulted the town. The destroyed everything, and left nopony alive.

Another skip, and we were at Gizmo's funeral. His successor addressed the Rangers, vowing that never again would one of their number be killed by primitive tribals, vile raiders or any other wasteland horror. They would devote themselves to being the strongest group in the wasteland, content to let the others fight and die while they waited to step up and claim their rightful place as vanguards of the Equestria that was. The new Elder also declared that two new sects of the Scribes would be created, the order of the Sword and of the Shield, to focus specifically on the knowledge of the past that fell beyond the reach of the earth ponies that founded the Rangers. Emerald stepped forward, the first to volunteer for the Order of the Sword.

The next memory was the first mission of the Order of the Sword Scribes. They, along with a contingent of Paladins and Knights, stormed an old library in Fillydelphia. The place was infested with raiders, but they fell swiftly and brutally to the onslaught of the well armed Rangers. Though most of the books were destroyed, I watched through Emerald's eyes as she accessed a secured terminal that held the entirety of the library's collected works. She downloaded the entire contents into a portable storage device.

One more memory completely skewed my perception. I was balancing on top of a pole on my head, upside-down. I had a strange feeling flowing through me that I assumed was Emerald using magic. There were a number of objects floating around me: two books, a pair of quills and numerous scrolls of paper. One of the books was about zebra martial arts, the other about magical combat. My eyes scanned both books rapidly, transcribing the words and diagrams from the badly damaged copies to fresh scroll. In the process, she took in every word, every motion and every spell, learning all of them in their entirety.

<-=======ooO Ooo=======->

I came out of Emerald's memories feeling like my heart had been torn in two. In a matter of minutes, I had experienced nearly every major loss she had suffered throughout her entire life. I couldn't stop myself from crying, the burning tears streaming down my face. I fell flat on my stomach, my legs unable to support my weight. It was too much too fast, and my own emotions were a mess from the experience. I vomited, the sight only making me look and feel even more wretched.

Emerald stood over me, leering down with contempt; “You see Miss Ditzy Doo, what I have just shown you is the quintessential truth of the wasteland that is Equestria. And I have you to thank for bringing me into it.”

The weight of Emerald's words hit me like a ton of bricks. She was right; everything that had happened to her came from my rescuing her from Stable Sixty-Seven. Tulip would never had tried to talk to that feral ghoul if she hadn't believed my story about being cursed. Gizmo might never have been killed if I hadn't convinced him to try and spread his positive influence. In turn, the new scribe orders would never have been created, and Emerald might never have come here to massacre Trottingham.

Emerald continued to speak, heedless of me; “The one great truth of the wasteland is this: the weak perish. The Equestrian Wasteland is a gauntlet of pain, suffering, hardships and death that only the strong can survive. My parents, Tulip, and even Gizmo were all too weak to make it in this blasted hellscape. This foul little necropolis of yours was weak too; its militia poorly trained and improperly armed. So I devoted myself to becoming strong; becoming a weapon that could stand against the wastes.” Her horn lit up, and I felt my heart wrench in my chest. It was as though it was caught in a vice. “And now you too shall perish. If you have anything left to say, do so now.”

I felt like I was drowning, which compounded with the pressure Emerald's spell was placing on my heart, leaving me feeling utterly crushed. My survival instincts panicked, trying desperately to find anything, anypony to hold onto in the tide of pain and despair. I was awash in a sea of regrets, pity, hatred and futility all at once. As soon as I went under, it would all be over. Somepony tossed me an obtrusively pink life preserver. I had no idea where it had come from, but I grabbed it, clutching tightly with all the strength I could muster.

Then, the life preserver became a sponge, sucking up the entire ocean's worth of negativity. As it inflated, it changed shape, becoming a face, then an entire pony. I knew this pony; she had been my friend. Hell, she had been everypony's friend. Pinkie Pie. Here was a pony who's sole goal in life, who's one true calling, had been bringing happiness and smiles to her friends. Even in Equestria's darkest hour, in the depth of a war that ended up destroying everything, she still took the time to remember every little foal's birthday and throw them a party. She devoted every last ounce of herself, her time, and even an entire government Ministry to trying to make everypony smile, even when it seemed that all hope was an illusion, waiting to be dispelled. She wouldn't let anypony tell her that there wasn't room for laughter in the world, no matter how dark things had gotten.

“You're... wrong,” I choked, barely able to speak. My heart struggled to beat; if these were going to be my last words, then I was going to make them count. “Equestria will prevail... so long as there are ponies out there... willing to fight against the darkness...”

The tightness in my chest evaporated. Suddenly I could breathe properly again. I opened my eyes, locking both of them on Emerald. She was still staring down at me, but her horn had stopped glowing. “You can't be that naive,” she scowled. “After everything you've been through. After everything I've shown you. After everything that this fucking wasteland has thrown at you, how can you still think otherwise?”

Emerald's words lashed at me like a whip, but I clung to that precious pink preserver. I rose to my hooves, speaking with all the resolve I could muster. “Because I have hope. I've met good ponies in my time; some of the best. No matter what happened, they never stopped believing they could make things right. Even after everything went so horribly wrong, there are still ponies who do everything they can to make things better.” The image of May, the real May, who had put her Ministry of Peace training to use on everypony she could, flashed in my mind. “No matter what, so long as those ponies exist, then Equestria will be restored. Even if it takes another hundred years, I guarantee that it will happen.”

Emerald's horn lit up again. She was going to kill me now. I gave her the best smile I could muster, even if it was just to make sure she knew she hadn't killed my hope. My lazy eye rolled away from her, landing on a nearby ponyhole cover. It was wrapped in the glow of magic from Emerald's horn. “You have an interestingly strong resolve,” said Emerald. Her face was still locked in a glower, but her words surprised me. “Stronger than even mine. Leave now, but remember my words. When that resolve of yours finally breaks, remember what I told you.”

“It won't,” I stated defiantly. I dove into the open sewer, leaving Emerald behind.

As I moved down the sewers away from the slaughter above, I heard Emerald's magically amplified voice calling out over the decimated town. “Brethren gather unto me. This day is won. Scribe Cottage Cheese, gather the tags of our fallen for recording in the archives. The rest of you gather up these fetid corpses so that we might burn them. I won't have them festering disease in what is to be our new citadel.”

***

Down in the sewers my resolve began to fade; the burning intensity of it dissolving into worry as I searched for survivors. I had hurt my wing further simply by using it to glide down into the sewers, and had been forced to walk. I trotted through the sewers, listening for any signs of life. The tunnels beneath Trottingham were vast; the city having shunned the more modern water recycling and purification systems that the rest of Equestria had adopted during the industrial revolution. I hoped that my inability to find anypony owed to the fact that they had gotten away safely.

After a few wrong turns and going around in a circle, I finally found them. A group of survivors had gathered in a pipe junction a half mile from the entrance to Stable Twelve. My heart ached at how few of them there were. Just this morning Trottingham had a population of around six hundred ghouls. There weren't even three dozen in front of me. I truly hoped that others had simply moved on; this couldn't be all there was left. They tensed when I came around the bend, but relaxed when they saw it was me.

Among the survivors I could see Blackhoof. The scorched forehoof that he had taken his name from was gone, severed crudely above the knee. He was laying in the polluted sewer water, letting the radiation in it soak into his stump, cauterizing the wound. The trickle of ichorous blood from the stump slowed before my eyes, eventually stopping. Standing next to him was Scatter, her right side torn up by a number of small shrapnel wounds. Her right side grenade rifle was totalled, but she had trained the other on me, presumably looking to protect those left from any Ranger who tried to come down here and finish them off.

Scatter approached me slowly. “Ditzy, thank the Goddesses you're alright.”

I nodded solemnly; “Are there any others?”

Scatter shook her head; “There's a couple scouting the tunnels further ahead, looking for a way out, but that's it.”

“Where are May and Rottingtail?” I asked, not sure I really wanted to hear the answer.

Scatter didn't respond, just looking away. I put a hoof around her neck, drawing her close but taking care not to agitate her wounds. Scatter looked about to burst into tears, but shucked me off when the sound of hoofsteps echoed from further down the tunnel. I turned to watch, ready to pull up my rifle if I needed to. I wanted it to be more survivors, but I wasn't going to let the number that there were drop either.

It was May. Her horn was aglow, a field of magical levitation wrapped around a form floating next to her. It was Rottingtail. As May drew closer, floating Rottingtail alongside her, I thought he was dead. He wasn't moving, but a closer look at his eyes showed them to still be alight with much of that same rage as before. As May drew closer, she looked at me, her face flushing with relief. She closed the rest of the distance quickly, Rottingtail's limp form following behind her. Rottingtail snarled and snapped, growling at us. My lazy eye rolled onto his bad leg; which was nearly as badly mangled as when I’d first met him. Large chunks of flesh were hanging loose and i could see part of the bone. He didn’t ever seem to notice.

“He hasn't gone feral has he?” I asked, pained by the thought.

May shook her head, allowing me to breath a sigh of relief. “Pumped himself full of stampede. I had to use an anaesthetic spell and drag him down here to keep him from getting himself killed. He did good though; distracted a group of them long enough for some civilians to get away. Even managed to kill a couple of the more lightly armed ones.”

May set Rottingtail's limp body down on the cold concrete of the tunnel. She looked past me to the small smattering of surviving ghouls. She looked around in all directions, as though doing so would allow her to find more who were hiding somewhere nearby. When she didn't, she began to cry. She threw her hooves over me and wept. I knew how much she was hurting; the ponies of Trottingham hadn't deserved this. We had lost our home, our one safe haven, and too many friends. I cried too, holding May down there in the sewers for a long time. Many of the other survivors joined in our tears as well.

***

“Children, I have some terrible news for you today. Remember that report I gave yesterday about the Steel Rangers? How I hoped they might be coming out to do some good in the wasteland? Looks like my hope was misplaced children. The Steel Rangers are nothing more than well armed, well organized raiders.

“I'm sure you've all heard of the necropolis of Trottingham at some point in your travels. It's a city full of ghouls just trying to live in peace away from the persecution they face in much of the rest of Equestria. More than that though, they were good folks. They were more than willing to trade with the rest of the wasteland, using a water talisman they got from somewhere to provide clean water to anypony who needed it. Or at least, they used to.

“Yesterday, the Steel Rangers set their sights on Trottingham with the intention of setting up shop. But these bastards weren't willing to share, and saw fit to slaughter the town's inhabitants. No word yet on any survivors, but one thing is perfectly clear: the Steel Rangers are not here to help. If you have something they want, they will take it from you, and your life is worth less than nothing to them.

“So, if you see these armoured goons, stay out of their way. That, my little ponies, is the truth of the matter.”

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Low

Ghoul Tip: Better Safe than Sorry – Do you feel hungry all the time? Do you think your mind is starting to slip? Don't be afraid to seek help; the earlier you look for help, the better the odds that the descent into feralism can be avoided.

Bonus Perk Added: Hope Survives – With a little luck and some help from a certain pink pony, you were able to say just the right thing to pull yourself out of a tight spot. During certain situations, unique dialogue options will become available that allow you to reduce or eliminate hostility. This perk is ineffective against raiders, feral ghouls and wild animals.

Chapter 11: Salvation

Chapter 11: Salvation

“We wish to escape the barbarity of the wasteland, especially the violence and bigotry of it's pony inhabitants.”

Loss.

Down in the sewers beneath Trottinaham, we were all feeling the true weight of the loss we had suffered. With May and Rottingtail, as well as the two ghouls who had been scouting the tunnels ahead, there were a total of thirty-seven of us who had survived the massacre up above. Less than a tenth of the city's population had been spared, and most of those were suffering from a variety of nasty injuries. I hoped we had the time to at least lick our wounds before we moved on.

Setting Rottingtail's limp body down next to me, May opened her saddlebags and pulled out what medical supplies she had. I was tempted to scream at how little there was, but cold understanding silenced me; I should be glad that she managed to get away with anything at all. Too many had not gotten away at all. May was going to do everything she could to make sure those that had gotten away alive stayed that way. At least the radiation levels down here were sufficient to aid in the healing process.

I felt a little ashamed that I was as unharmed as I was. My chest still ached from Emerald's spell (seriously, who in their right mind invented a heart attack spell?), but I wasn't in any mortal danger. The same could not be said for a few of the other ghouls, who May sought out first. She used the only healing potions she had to try and stabilize them. She had only three, and she had to administer only half of each to those that needed them in order to make sure everypony got some. It was just barely enough, even when coupled with May's own healing magic.

After doing what she could for those most gravely injured, May came back over to me and Rottingtail. She used the irradiated water and her mending spell to patch up his leg, and fitted it with the single medical brace she had managed to bring. Scatter was made to lay down as she plucked each piece of shrapnel stuck in her side out, bandaging each gash as she went. I remembered that treatment. There was nothing she could do for Blackhoof. If he still had his leg she might have been able to reattach it, but she couldn't just grow it back.

I sat next to the limp form of Rottingtail, watching May work as I waited for the effects of stampede (and her spell) to wear off. I already knew he must be feeling completely twisted up inside, and not just because he had lost his nephew (In fact, none of the 'younger' ghouls had survived the slaughter). He had been the Sheriff, Mayor and general hold-together-er of the Trottingham necropolis for most of a lifetime, and yet he had been unable to protect it or its inhabitants from the Steel Ranger's assault. Even the militia he trained had been decimated.

I watched as the effects of the stampede finally started to wear off on Rottingtail. His eyes no longer looked glossed over by rage, and instead began to pool with tears. May's spell had yet to wear off, so he was still immobile. “Just one thing...” he began to mutter, but stopped, his words hoarse and choked.

My ears perked up; “What thing?” I asked, motioning for him to go on. Maybe it would help him if her talked about it.

“Ah promised Braeburn'n muh sis just one thing when they left,” stated the sheriff, his voice strained. “They knew things were lookin' grim; that's why they left him with me. Thought he'd be safe out in Appleoosa, away from the cities, away from the danger, away from the war zones.”

“Apple Crumble,” I said, although it was plainly obvious that's what he was talking about.

Rottingtail nodded; “Braeburn and Silver Sand trusted me with his life, and Ah swore that Ah'd do right by them, no matter what happened to me. And now... now he's dead. Ah failed.”

I placed a hoof on Rottingtail's bad shoulder. I wasn't sure he could feel it right now, but I didn't have the strength to lift him up for a proper hug. “It's not your fault,” I said, trying to reassure the ghoul stallion. “Crumble lived a long, full life. He's probably back with his parents now.”

“How c'n you say that?” he snapped. “He'd been with me a lot longer'n either o' them. Hell, he's been with you longer'n his actual folks.”

Rottingtail's words hit me like a kick to my gut. Apple Crumble had called me his 'auntie' on more than one occasion, honorary or otherwise. In growing closer to Rottingtail, I had grown closer to the colt as well. The two of them had been the closest thing to a family of my own that I had ever experienced. In the wake of everything else that had been lost, that simple fact had eluded me. Now that Rottingtail made it clear, all I had were more tears. I laid my head down on his chest and took a turn at crying alongside him just as I had May. He however, had no tears to shed.

***

We couldn't stay put for very long. Although the battle was over, one of the Steel Rangers' main reasons for attacking us had been to take control of Stable Twelve. In the process of securing it, the chances of them scouring the nearby sewers for stragglers was too strong to be ignored. Even though we weren't really in any shape for a long trip, we had to go. As soon as Rottingtail became mobile again, we moved out. There would be time to grieve and rest once we were truly out of harm's way.

Blackhoof and Rottingtail brought up the rear of our group as we moved through the miles of sewer tunnels that ran beneath Trottingham. Both were hobbled by the injuries to their legs, although I think Blackhoof might have been envious that Rottingtail's leg was at least still attached. I rigged up a makeshift peg for him using the pieces of Scatter's broken grenade rifle and some wonderglue. It was crude and uncomfortable, but it allowed him to trot a little bit faster for the time being. Scatter and I led the group, being the only ones aside from Rottingtail who still had usable weapons. May slid in and out of the throng, checking on ponies and giving support to those who she had been unable to patch up completely.

I remained silent for much of the trip; there wasn't really anything to talk about. I already knew exactly what was on everypony's mind. I could hear May behind me, making small talk and taking names. Nopony seemed to be in the mood for much of the former though. Scatter lit up a cigarette and began to puff on it, presumably just to keep herself occupied briefly. The air down here was already stale and stuffy, so there really wasn't any reason for concern. The tunnels were dimly lit, and the light from her horn as she floated the smoke to and from her mouth provided a better illumination of what lay in front of us. Most of the time it was just more endless sewer tunnels.

I stopped as, for the third time since we had departed, the sounds of movement took me by surprise. And for the third time, a smattering of radroaches skittered past us. I groaned, wishing I had something like May's EFS to let me know where these things were a head of time. Of course, I couldn't ask May to come up here and keep watch; she had her own priorities and I wasn't going to keep her from them. Oddly enough, the roaches never seemed to bother us, either because we outnumbered them or because they didn't like carrion.

Before we started moving again, I saw Scatter's ears perk up. “You hear that?” she asked curiously.

A moment later, I did hear it. It was a distant sound, carried on echoes from what could have been miles of tunnel away. However, as soon as I did hear it, I recognized it immediately. “Music. A sprite-bot, I think.”

“You mean like that flying radio you saw near where we found Flam?” asked the unicorn, looking for confirmation.

“Yes,” I groused, not wanting to be reminded of that right now.

The tinny music was coming from further up ahead, although there had to be a bend somewhere, since we couldn't see the end of the passage we were in. The idea of a sprite-bot being in a sewer struck me as implausible, unless it had fallen through a ponyhole cover when it had gone down before. That led me to think there might be an opening or exit somewhere that we could use to get out. If we were truly fortunate, it would be far enough away from Trottingham that we could make a clean getaway. Running my thoughts by Scatter, she agreed, although with a bit of skepticism.

Cautiously, we began moving again, guided by the sound of the sprite-bot's music. As we drew closer, the music grew loud enough that everypony could hear it clearly. I could also hear whispers among the ghouls behind me, ranging from hope to worry about what we might find at the end of the tunnel. Of her own volition, May joined Scatter and I at the front, kicking on her EFS and watching for signs of movement other than radroaches and ourselves. Thanks to her, we were actually able to pick up the pace, since we would know about any other potential threats before they were on top of us.

As we rounded one last bend, the dim light of late evening flooded over us. We had reached the end of the tunnel, and it opened up into a wide open area of wasteland in front of us. I could see the sprite-bot now; it was hovering dutifully in front of the tunnel opening, almost as though it had stayed there specifically to guide us here. I thought of the strange voice that had helped me back in the MoM facility, but the sprite-bot, apparently having noticed us, decided to move on right then and there. Was somepony out there watching us?

Moving up to the edge of the tunnel, which was thankfully clear of anything else, I looked out into the region of wasteland the sewer exited onto. We were standing at the edge of a lake, the rancid water of the Trottingham sewers and beyond drizzling out of the pipe into the waters of the lake. On the far side of the small lake, I could see what I presumed to be a water treatment plant. There wasn't anything else left standing in my field of vision.

“So, we gonna go for a swim then?” nickered Scatter.

May raised a curious eyebrow; “Actually, a dip in concentrated radioactive water might help with some of the lighter injuries.”

I hadn't gone swimming since before the apocalypse. I had never been very good at it anyways. “Where do we go from here?” I asked, hoping May might have a better plan than 'wander around until we find something'. My lazy eye rolled back to the water treatment plant. I directed May's attention to it. “That building might be a good place to rest, and Goddesses know we need it.”

“How are we going to get there though?” May asked incredulously.

Looking over the edge of the pipe, I could see what she meant. The tunnel we were in was poking out of a hillside at least thirty feet down into a rocky rivulet that carried the sewer water to the lake. “I might be able to fl-”

Before I could finish, we were all blinded by an explosion in our midst.

***

Everypony screamed. Really, considering the brilliant flash of light and loud popping noise, it was hard to blame them. However, that which burst into our midst was not an explosion. Many ghouls fled down the tunnel we had just come from, while most simply stood and stared in awe. Not having anywhere to flee to, I was among the latter. The brilliance of the flash did not diminish after the sound ended, and I had been forced to shield my eyes. As it adjusted to the new intense source of light, my lazy eye rolled up over my shielding hoof and fell upon the source of the illumination. I gasped in shock.

The luminescent being that stood in our midst was a pony. Moreover, it was a ghoul pony! In spite of the brilliance of the light coming off of her (I think it was a her anyways, the light made it hard to be sure), I could still see the decayed flesh and lack of hair that our kind all possessed. The corona of light bleeding off of this ghoul was pure, unfettered radiation, and it was not just May's Pipbuck screaming that told me this. From the moment she had appeared I had suddenly felt invigorated and energetic, and the ache in my chest had dulled considerably. Even my sprained wing felt mended. My lazy eye wandered, showing me that the rest of those who had not fled were feeling a similar effect.

“Oh dear,” said the glowing ghoul, turning to look down the tunnel at those who fled. Her voice carried an otherworldly echo that was not caused by the tunnel walls around her. “Had I known my sudden appearance would cause such alarm, I would have teleported in further away and approached on hoof.”

May and I simply gaped at her; unsure of what to think. This was unlike anything we had ever experienced before. May was the first to get over her initial shock; “What... are you?”

I would have asked 'who' are you, but May's inquisitive nature drove her to try and understand the phenomenon we were witnessing. The glowing ghoul did not turn to address her right away, instead calling out to the ghouls who had fled. “Fear not my fellow forsaken brethren, I mean you no harm. Please, come back; I have news that concerns you all.”

For reasons I wasn't entirely sure of, the glowing ghoul's voice had a reassuring quality to it. I felt at ease when she spoke, even though I knew nothing about her. Was that caused by the radiation she was shedding, or was she just that charismatic? The effect was felt by the others ghouls as well, who slowly but steadily returned to the herd. Curious whispers ran through the crowd.

May seemed to have been momentarily caught up in staring at the glowing ghoul's flanks, but she shook her head and asked her question once again; “Who are you?” Perhaps she figured asking differently would get the response she wanted.

It did, but not until the rest of the Trottingham survivors had returned. “Greetings to all of you,” stated the glowing one, her voice still echoing. She turned around on the spot as she spoke, addressing all of us. “My name is Bright Light (seriously?), and I have come here with wonderful news. I have been travelling around Equestria to find other children of the megaspells so that I might deliver unto them tidings of our salvation.”

I just stared at Bright. A ghoul who is literally glowing with radiation pops in on us out of nowhere with a message of some sort of 'salvation'? There were so many questions that raised. It was Rottingtail who asked them; “What the hell are you on about?”

The glowing one looked to Rottingtail; I couldn't tell what the look on her face was, but she was at least trying to sound compassionate. “Forgive me if my cryptic speech was difficult to decipher. I merely meant to say that-”

“That ain't what Ah asked,” snapped the ghoul sheriff, his rage peaking again. “Ah wanna know how in the hell some random ghoul we ain't never seen before, who's lit up like a fuckin' balefire bomb, magically knew we were all here. You been spyin' on us or somthin'?”

I wasn't sure somepony as conspicuous as this ghoul could spy on anypony without being noticed. “Most assuredly not,” claimed Bright. “Your presence here was foretold to me.”

Rottingtail only sounded madder; “Foretold? Like, seein' th' future?”

“After a fashion;” the enlightened ghoul did not seem to comprehend Rottingtail's mounting fury. “My precognition-”

That was it; Rottintail exploded. I heard his battle saddle reload as he stomped forward, inches from Bright. “You mean t'tell me, that yer lookin' to HELP other ghouls, can see into the future, and have enough radiation bleedin' off o' ya to kill anythin' what's not already dead. WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU THIS MORNING?!”

“Lone Star!” I bellowed, glaring daggers at Rottingtail. I knew he was upset, but so were all the rest of us. He had no right to take it out on this ghoul, whoever she was. “That. Is. Enough.”

Rottingtail rounded on me, apparently no longer caring who he vented his rage at; “Don't call me that! That pony is DEAD! He died with his nephew. Ah'm-”

Rottingtail was cut off as a flash of light behind me sent a small mote of magical energy flying at him, causing him to keel over the second it hit him. May walked up next to me, the glow from her horn fading; “Somepony needs to cool off,” she stated. This was the same spell, I realized, that she had used when he was hyped on stampede earlier. “You're not the only one who lost somepony today. You-”

I placed a hoof on May's shoulder and shook my head; Rottingtail needed to be left alone for now. Saying anything to him might aggravate him further, and I wasn't about to lose another friend because he couldn't keep his anger in check. I spoke to Bright; “I'm very sorry; today has not been... today has been difficult for all of us. We lost our home, and so many friends. He has not taken it well.”

Bright Light rounded to face me, looking abashed (at least, I think she was; the glow of radiation surrounding her made it difficult to look at her straight). “No,” she stated, sounding forlorn, “it is I who should apologize to all of you. My premonitions have always guided me to save my fellow children of the megaspells. Would that I had received this one sooner. As well, I have never been the most adept at sensing the frustrations of others. I beg your forgiveness, and his as well.”

Rottingtail simply snorted in response, unable to do much more. May however, found her curiosity rearing itself again; “These premonitions you keep mentioning, can you tell me more about them?”

Bright nodded; “As you can undoubtedly see, I am quite different from other chil- ghouls. In my many years of travel, I have never encountered another like me. At first I thought it a curse, but then the whispers of things yet to come began to slip into my dreams. I believe them to be a blessing from the Goddess; a way of making up for the wretched fate that befell our world.”

Scatter spoke up, her own curiosity abound; “The Goddess? Do you mean Celestia or Luna?”

Bright gave a shrug; “It is difficult for me to tell sometimes whether the whispers come from Celestia, Luna, or both, but they do come from the Goddesses, of that much I am sure.”

Before any of us could ask any more questions, the glow around Bright momentarily intensified. In that moment, her voice grew louder, the echo increased tenfold. “When the sanctuary of the forsaken is crushed beneath the hoof of steel, the time of salvation will be upon you. Seek she whose eyes look past what they see, for she holds the key to the lands beyond.”

May and I exchanged odd glances; I had no idea what to make of that, although it did sound eerily similar to what had transpired. “What does that mean exactly?” asked May.

The glow around Bright dimmed back to the level it had been at before. “I was repeating the words that came to me not two days ago in my meditation. I am saddened that I only learned after the destruction of Trottingham what the first part meant.”

“How did you learn about that exactly?” I asked.

“The herald on the radio,” said Bright. DJ P0N-3. He had always sympathized with the plight of ghouls. Of course he would know. “Once I heard, I came to this area, hoping that there were still those who could be saved.”

“You've said that a few times now,” I noted. “What is this salvation you're talking about?”

Bright turned to face me directly, causing me to look away. My lazy eye rolled back towards her, drawn to the radiation like a magnet. Before answering, she glanced to my sides. Was she looking at my wings? I couldn't really blame her; a pegasus ghoul was probably as rare a sight as... whatever she was. She looked back to my eyes, her own widening. “Of course!” she exclaimed, catching me off guard. “Of course she would be a pegasus.” Now I was just confused.

“What are you talking about?” May asked, clearly as perplexed as I was.

Bright kept her eyes on me when she answered; “You are the key that my premonition foretold!”

What? “I think you're mistaken,” I said flatly. “I'm not any-”

“How many of you are there?” demanded Bright, cutting me off.

“Thirty-Seven,” May answered quickly, “but why do you-”

Bright had forsaken her previous cryptic mannerisms for sheer excitement. “It will be easier for me to explain if I can show you. One moment!”

With a flash, she was gone, leaving a burning after image on my eyes that refused to go away. She could teleport; I had seen Twilight Sparkle use that same magical ability a few times in the past. I heard murmurs sounding from throughout the throng of ghouls, most of them sounding just as confused as I felt. I really hoped we would get some kind of explanation when Bright returned.

There was another brilliant flash and a pop as Bright returned to our midst ten minutes later. She was a sight to behold, or would have been if any of us could look at her. She was glowing even more brightly than she had been before, and might have blinded those who dared to look at her for more than a few seconds. Magical energy bled off her, making the air itself taste and feel charged with power. As well, if May's Pipbuck was any indication, she was shedding even more radiation as well. Before I could ask what possible purpose this served, her horn lit up with magic, further intensifying her glow. Then, we were all gone.

***

I had never travelled by teleportation before, so it was safe to say that I had a bit of a panic attack. When we rematerialized, I immediately started hyperventilating, confused by the sudden change in our surroundings. May placed a comforting hoof on my shoulder as I heaved. I was quite certain I never wanted to do that again. It took a few minutes for the panic to subside, after which I took the opportunity to observe our new surroundings.

As far as I could tell, we were miles and miles from where we had been. May's Pipbuck map confirmed this, stating that we were now a few miles outside Stalliongrad; a trip that would have taken most of a week on hoof. Looking around, the extent of the feat that Bright had pulled off became evident. She had, on her own, transported every single one of the Trottingham survivors, as well as herself, to this new location. Looking to Bright, I could see that the glow of radiation around her had diminished significantly. Had she used the excess energy to fuel that mass teleport spell?

Bright swayed a bit, apparently drained by the efforts. May ran over to her and propped her up on one side. “Thank you,” she said, smiling weakly.

May nodded; “How did you do that?”

“We children of the megaspells do not simply heal in the bask of the energies that created us,” Bright explained. “Enough exposure can change us and strengthen us. I found that I can use that raw magical energy to empower my own spells.”

I was tempted to snicker as May floated her journal out of her saddlebags and began taking notes. “And where exactly did you get that kind of radiation exposure so quickly?”

“The Splendid Valley crater,” stated Bright, shying away from May as she attempted to carry her own weight again.

Before answering any more questions, Bright motioned for us to start moving again, following her lead. At first I thought she would be leading us towards Stalliongrad, but instead she directed us away from the city, where I could see what looked like a twisted mass of black metal about half a mile's trot distant. As we began to move towards the structure, Bright held back. Her horn lit up, wrapping Rottingtail's still limp form in the glow of levitation. She did so without any difficulty, unlike May who seemed to strain herself when trying to lift an entire pony. The power of radiation at work again.

As we walked, Bright became a lot more talkative now that we were heading towards the source of her 'salvation'. “I became like this back at Splendid Valley,” she claimed, answering May's question about her origins. “I used to work for the Ministry of Arcane Sciences, and was working out of the Maripony facility at the time of the megaspells.”

May nodded; “Bunch of gem mines, right?”

Bright shook her head; “Originally yes, but we were using it for storage and some other new projects by that time. Not that it really matters this long after. I was in the housing complex attached to the facility, outside the safe rooms when the megaspell detonated. The very fact that I survived at all was nothing short of miraculous, especially when I was the only one who did.”

“What about the ponies in the safe rooms?” I asked tentatively; “Wouldn't they have survived?”

“Alas, I never found out,” Bright said, looking a bit ashamed. “From the moment the flash of the megaspell ended, I was aglow with radiation. I knew that, even if there were survivors other than myself, my very presence would be lethal to them. Instead, I chose to depart, hoping that somepony else would come along to save them where I could not. Twilight Sparkle was on the facility that day as well, so perhaps she managed to get them out. She was always the best at magic short of Princesses Celestia and Luna.”

The mention of Twilight Sparkle struck a melancholy chord in my heart. Like the other Ministry Mares, I had known her from her time in Ponyville. I found myself wondering what had happened to them all in the end. “I still go back to the crater to bask in the radiation and meditate when I need to,” concluded Bright. “I find that the voice of the Goddesses is always strongest there.”

***

Now that we were drawing closer to the mass of black metal, I could see that it was much less of a wreck than I thought it was. It was a large structure, and most of the clutter I saw was akin to a shanty town that had been built around it. As we approached, a number of ghouls wielding magical energy weapons trained them on us, as well as a pair of automated turrets, presumably of the magical variety as well. Upon seeing Bright leading us, the ghouls lowered their weapons and disabled the turrets.

I could hear Rottingtail grumbling something from Bright's telekinetic grasp. I imagine he was frustrated; the magical energy weapons these ghouls were packing would have been more more effective against the Steel Rangers than our own conventional munitions. Bright looked abashed, and this time I was able to make out her expression more clearly because the glow around her had faded since the mass teleport. Yet, she was still shedding enough radiation to make me feel pleasantly warm.

Turning around to face the rest of the survivors from Trottingham, Bright had an announcement. “Now my fellow children, it is time for you to learn the truth of our salvation. Here it lies, right in front of you.” She gestured towards the black metal structure behind her.

“What are we looking at exactly?” I asked. It was Scatter, who had formerly been in the Equestrian Armed Forces, who answered me.

The unicorn ghoul let out an impressed whistle; “That's a Raptor, isn't it?” She asked, looking to Bright.

I looked at her, confused. Bright nodded at her, smiling. “It is indeed. This was and is a former Equestrian Military Raptor-Class flying battleship. It was flying near here when the megaspell that hit Stalliongrad knocked it out of the sky. My premonitions from the Goddess guided me and my followers to it, so that we might use it. I have been shown visions of a land beyond Equestria, wiped free of life in the great cataclysm. There will be there none there to persecute us, hate us or fear us. We will be able to live freely and safely for as long as we choose. This old machine of war will be our ticket to that peace.”

Wow. That was absurdly ambitious. However, the idea of a land free from the hardships that ghouls faced here in Equestria was incredibly appealing. I wondered just how many 'children of the megaspells' she had following her. Considering the size of the flying battleship, there could easily be several hundred ghouls inside. However, the very fact that it was an eighty year old flying battleship cast a serious shadow over the possibility of it being used.

“This was originally a pegasus ship, right?” I asked, suspecting as much. “How do you plan to fly it?”

Bright looked understanding, but also undeterred. “Ever since first discovering this ship, my followers and I have scoured the Equestrian Wasteland to find the means with which to make her fly again. Pegasus vehicles like this often relied on clouds as part of their inner workings, and finding a way to circumvent this was the most difficult task we ever had. However, thanks to guidance from my premonitions and the tireless effort of my followers, we have nearly finished.”

I could hear some impressed sounds coming from the crowd behind me. Even I was enthralled by the idea. “You said something earlier about a 'key', then you looked at me funny,” I noted, recalling that she had gotten rather excited upon seeing me.

Bright smiled broadly, showing me that even her gums were aglow with the radiation her body generated. “Indeed. For, at the apex of this machine, there lies a hardened room that was spared even the fury of the megaspell that destroyed the rest of the ship and killed its crew. That room is sealed by the last piece of cloud-made technology in the ship, which only a pegasus can touch. I believe that the Goddess led me to you so that you might open this door for us.”

“What's behind it?” I asked. My voice had a mix of excitement and worry in it. It would be wonderful to be able to help these ghouls, but what if I couldn't?

“The command deck,” replied Bright. “We know this from schematics we have found elsewhere in the ship. Said schematics are also what allowed us to make the extensive repairs we have already. Once we can get in and repair the controls, we will be ready to make our journey.”

***

The prospect of having a new home where they would be safe from the sorts of persecution that led to the destruction of Trottingham was amazingly beneficial to the morale of the survivors or Trottingham. It was the first time since the battle had ended that any of us had anything more than despair looming over us. This was a new hope, a chance to start over. I could see why so many of our number jumped at the opportunity almost immediately. Even for those more skeptical, the armoured battleship would be a perfect place to get rest and take some much needed time to lick our wounds.

Our group was welcomed graciously by Bright's followers, who had all heard about what happened to Trottingham from DJ P0N-3's broadcast. I could hear a radio somewhere playing his music. The ghouls living in the raptor were wonderfully sympathetic, offering to share anything we needed. As well, the ghouls all seemed to give a deference to Bright as we approached the ship. Between her natural charisma and the radiation she was shedding, it wasn't hard to see why. Most of our group simply wanted a place to rest and mourn, and were led away by a few of Bright's followers.

As Bright led those of us that remained with her inside the ship, I could see that the tireless efforts she spoke of were still ongoing. All around us the innards of the ship were on display as various ghouls tinkered with them. I could see a number of them feeding wires, changing spark batteries and welding pieces of panelling into place. I couldn't help but be impressed; the prospect of this old war machine flying again was looking very real.

“Excuse me miss Bright,” May cut in, after taking a few moments to marvel at the ship itself, “but is the medical bay of this ship operational? The radiation exposure from you has done wonders, but a few of the Trottingham survivors still need proper treatment.”

Bright nodded warmly; “Of course. The medical center is on the third level, just outside the lift over there.” The glowing unicorn pointed to an elevator that looked like it had only recently been rebuilt.

May nodded graciously and moved towards the lift. As she went, she took the still limp form of Rottingtail from Bright's telekinetic grasp. All but one of the ghouls who had come inside with us followed her. The one that remained was Clank, who started ambling about the ghouls working on the ship. She began to ask them about the various parts they were working on, and if there was anything she could do to help. She had always been in her element around machines.

I was tempted to follow May to the medical bay to keeping Rottingtail and the others company, but Bright placed a hoof on my shoulder. “I do not mean to keep you from your friends, but I wish to ask for your aid. I promise it won't take long.”

I nodded, remembering Bright's mention of a cloud-made terminal. “It's okay, I can take care of it for you now and then get back to my friends.”

“It will still be several days before the ship is fully operational, even once we have access to the command center,” Bright explained. “You and the others from Trottingham will be more than welcome to stay in our care for that time. Once the raptor is ready, we can all make the great journey together.”

I had to make an effort to keep my expression neutral. While the prospect of Bright's salvation was not without appeal, I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. Equestria was my home, and had been for over a hundred years now. On the other hoof, with the destruction of Trottingham, I had now lost three homes here in Equestria, and oh so many friends. Perhaps the opportunity to start over in a new home with new friends where the fear of losing them was absent wouldn't be so bad. I would have to talk to May and Rottingtail about it at the very least.

***

Bright led me deeper into the ship, which was mostly more of the same. Most of the ghouls stopped to greet Bright as we passed, and a few even cast curious glances at me, presumably having never seen a pegasus ghoul before. When whispers began to spread amongst those working nearby, the glowing ghoul told her followers to keep her last premonition in mind. However, she asked them to remain quiet until after I had tried my hoof at the command center. She was pleased to give her followers hope, but didn't want to jump the gun on such an important step forward in their journey.

Bright eventually led me to an elevator that looked like it had been operational for longer than the one May had taken. She raised a hoof and pressed the call button for the lift. “I just want you to know,” she said, turning to face me, “that I am truly sorry about what happened to you and your fellows in Trottingham. I wish I could have done more to help.”

I shook my head, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “It's not your fault. You've been kind enough to take us in after that tragedy.” I smiled as warmly as I could manage; “Honestly, I'm barely holding together myself.” A few tears leaked from my eyes; “I'm very thankful for your kindness; we all are. I'm happy to try and do what I can in return.”

It was Bright's turn to shake her head; “You should not see this as a repayment of hospitality or kindness. You should see this for what it truly is: an opportunity.” Bright was interrupted by the arrival of the elevator, which she guided me onto. She resumed speaking after we were inside, heading up through towards the apex of the ship. “I did not come to find your group simply to use you to our advantage. I wanted to bring as many of my fellow children of the megaspells to salvation as I could. That you are the key to that salvation is merely icing on the cake, as it were.” She smiled broadly.

I nodded, letting out a sigh of gratitude. “This means a lot. To all of us. Thank you.”

When the lift reached the top of its ascent, the doors opened to reveal a short, crowded hallway. Much like the other parts of the ship, the hallway leading to the command deck was in a state of reassembly. However, the one key difference was at the end of the hallway, where I could see the soft, silvery form of a cloud construct. Standing next to it was a ghoul armed with two magical energy rifles built into a battle saddle. From the scorch marks I could see at the edge of the door, it looked like they had tried and failed to force their way into the fortified room. It made sense that they had failed; this little area had weathered a megaspell, a crash landing and eighty years of time.

I trotted up to the cloud terminal slowly, aware that the eyes of all the other ghouls in that hall were now on me. They looked to Bright, the expressions of hope at my approach unmistakable. I really hoped I could actually pull this off. I raised a hoof and tapped at the console, which hummed to life before my eyes. It felt a little weird; I hadn't actually touched a cloud in a long time. I watched as text flowed down the screen as the terminal booted itself up. It finally came to a stop after a few moments. It asked me for a password. Fuck.

I could feel my heart breaking; after everything that had happened today, all of the hopes of Bright and her followers would be shattered because the terminal that only I could touch was locked. I turned to face Bright, the expression of melancholy on my face blatantly evident. “It needs a password...”

To my surprise, Bright started to laugh. Empowered by the unnatural echoing of her voice, it was a rich, almost mystical sound. It took her a few minutes to stop laughing, and she actually had to clutch at her aching sides with a hoof. “Oh by the mercy of the Goddess,” she said, still chortling. I cocked an eyebrow and gave her a look. She finally stopped laughing long enough to explain; “I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend, but by the look you were giving me made me think the problem was something we wouldn't be able to solve.”

“But I don't know what the password is,” I retorted. “And I'm not good enough with arcano-technology to-”

Bright smiled warmly and placed a reassuring hoof on my shoulder. “You don't need to be. I am more than proficient enough with the arcane sciences to guide you through. Now, just do exactly as I say...”

At Bright instruction, I typed a seemingly random sequence of characters into the terminal. I went slowly, not wanting my own lack of experience to botch this attempt. After entering the sequence, the terminal spewed a bunch of lines of technical jargon that I couldn't parse for the life of me. Eventually the screen filled with rows and rows of lines of text, buried within which were a number of actual words. According to Bright, one of these would be the password. I did not envy anypony who did this on a regular basis; even acting as a proxy in the process was making my head hurt.

After a dozen attempts and several instances of having to back out due to my own clumsiness with terminals, I finally managed to get the password. For those who care to know, it was 'shadowbolts'. Once I entered the password, the terminal bleeped happily and bared its contents to me. Most of what it contained were logs of which crew members were on duty. I left all of those alone except for the last one, which revealed that those who had been working on the command deck at the time of the crash were Colonel Strafe, Lieutenant Highwind and Admiral Spitfire.

Beneath the list of entire was a command to open the door. I pressed it, then stepped back to watch. The door gave a groan protest from years of disuse, but slid open with a hiss. I was about to step into the command deck, but stopped after a quick look around revealed three forms, standing almost stock still inside. They were all enclosed completely in the black, insectoid magical armour that I had previously seen worn by Enclave pegasi. They were all staring at the newly opened door. I would have thought them dead on their hooves if I couldn't hear soft breathing coming from them. The question was, were they ghouls, or zombies.

A loud snarling growl from the lead armoured pegasus quickly made that clear. I flew upwards as the three of them charged me, only to be reminded that they could fly too. There wasn't much room to manoeuvre in the enclosed room, so it was all I could do to drop back down quickly while I tried to get my rifle off my back. The lead pegasus zombie collided with the wall above the door and fell to the floor. The other two turned around in mid flight and came at me again. I was very thankful that they weren't lucid enough to use their weapons; the magical energy battle saddles built into their armour did not look pleasant.

After a few moments of ducking and diving, I managed to unsling Stronghoof's rifle and brought it up to my mouth. I didn't have to to line up a proper shot as one of the pegasi charged me. I tongued the trigger, and was thrown back through the air by the kick of the unbraced weapon. My shot tore into the armoured wing of the pegasus zombie, causing it to crash roughly. I dropped back to the floor to avoid the other one and approached the one I had grounded. Two shots through the back of its helmet was enough to kill it. Evidently this armour was not as strong as the stuff worn by Steel Rangers. Considering that pegasus ponies prided themselves on speed and agility, light more mobile armour made sense.

Now that I was on the ground, I was able to properly brace my rifle and line up a shot on the remaining pegasus zombie. As it dove towards me, I brought the compound eye visor into my cross-hairs and unloaded my remaining two shots. The pegasus crashed hard and skidded to a halt beside me. As I turned my attention to the one who had collided with the door earlier, I saw that the ghoul with the magical energy rifles had taken care of it; melting through its helmet and most of its head. Judging by the gold filigree on that one's armour, I suspected it might have been the admiral.

Bright, allowed to pass by the armed ghoul once he deemed it all clear, ran over to me. “Are you alright? I thought that all of the crew had perished between the blast and the crash.”

I looked back at the now dead pegasus zombies. “Considering this was the most fortified part of the ship, I guess they survived. Almost.” I felt my heart sinking; after all the ghouls that had been killed this morning, I had just done in three more. Even though they were feral, it still felt terrible.

“We shall give them the same treatment as the rest of the ship's crew,” said Bright, bowing her head to each of the dead zombies in turn. “A funeral pyre shall be made for them before we begin our work here.”

***

This had been one of the most exhausting and emotionally wrenching days of my life. All I really wanted to do was find a bed and sleep for a good couple of days. However, before I could do that, I needed to talk with my friends once more. Leaving Bright and her followers to tend to the dead commanding officers and start looking over the command deck, I made my way back to the lift. I pressed the button and descended to the third level of this ship, where Bright had said the medical bay was.

On the third level it wasn't difficult to find my way to the medical center; Bright's followers were more than happy to point me in the right direction. Upon reaching it, I stopped before opening the door. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to steel myself in case Rottingtail was still being aggressive. I stepped forward, and the door opened automatically with a hiss. Inside, I could see a number of medical beds, most of which were occupied by the ghouls May had brought here for treatment. Most of them were either asleep or sedated, and I could see May trotting around the beds, checking on her patients.

Rottingtail was laying on the bed nearest the entrance. As soon as I entered the medical bay, he raised his head to look at me, looking rather dejected himself. That he was moving at all told me that May's spell had worn off since I'd left them. His bad hoof was stretched out in front of him in a sling, and was wrapped shoulder to hoof in bandages. He looked away from me as I tried to lock eyes with him. My lazy eye rolled to follow his downturned gaze.

I trotted slowly up to Rottingtail's bed, stopping next to his good shoulder. He didn't want to look at me. “Listen, Lone Star...” I began, raising a hoof to his shoulder.

He nudged my hoof away with his. “Ah know what yer gonna say Ditzy,” he said without turning his head to look at me. “An' yer right. Ah haven't been right at all today, but that's no excuse.”

I had originally been expecting that I would have to confront Rottingtail about his earlier behaviour. My feelings melted into sympathy as I place my hoof back on his shoulder. “It's been hard for all of us.”

“Ah know, but Ah want ya t'understand;” said Rottingtail, still not looking at me. “Apple Crumble was th' only kin Ah had left after the holocaust. Ah promised muhself Ah'd never let anythin' happen to him. Not jus' fer me, but fer Braeburn, Silver Sand, and all th' other's Ah'd lost. Not only that, but all of Trottingham was muh responsibility. Ah failed to protect the city and its ponies, Ah failed to protect Crumble, and Ah failed to protect you even after all that. Ah'm a failure, plain'n simple.”

“It's not your fault,” I said. “I'm the one who wanted to try and talk. I could have been setting up an evacuation or-”

Rottingtail pressed his good hoof to my muzzle to quiet me. He finally turned his head to look at me. “Don't talk like that. Ya'll were only tryin' to keep things from goin' t'hell. Ah'm the one who shoulda done more. Trottingham was muh responsibility, and now Ah'm the one who's gotta take the responsibility. Ah won't have the mare Ah care about takin' none o' the blame fer muh mistakes.”

Under any other circumstances I might have flushed at that comment, but I was too exhausted to do anything other than press on with what I had to say. “I know it hurts, and I know it feels like you have a lot to make up for, but it's not your fault. When I spoke to Emerald it became quite clear that she had no intention of backing down no matter what.” I started to cry for her, in spite of my words. “There's not much we can do in the face of that kind of hatred.”

Rottingtail looked at me wearily. “Well then, Ah guess Ah'd better apologize to miss Bright. Maybe Ah couldn't do anythin' fer Trottingham, but maybe I c'n do somethin' fer these ghouls.”

I nodded thankfully, not really having the energy left to do much else. The medical bed next to Rottingtail's was empty, so I climbed onto it. It was comfortable, if a bit smaller than I might have liked. I laid down, very glad for the opportunity to rest. At some point, I fell asleep.

***

I spent the entire day following the Trottingham massacre asleep. From what I heard from Bright later on, most of the rest of the survivors did as well. Even May took some sleep after she had mended the rest of her patients. Between the radiation from Bright, May's magic and the supplies stocked in the Raptor's medical bay, all except Rottingtail and Blackhoof made full recoveries. Rottingtail was fine, considering he had lived with that same bad leg for eighty years. Blackhoof on the other hoof was able to benefit from a proper prosthetic hoof to make up for the one he lost.

The days that followed were some of the busiest I'd had in a long time. While the ghouls following Bright had developed means of circumventing the cloud based components, doing so had taken them years to accomplish, and attempting to do the same on the command deck could have taken ages. If they didn't have a pegasus ghoul helping them that is. I was able to fly up to the bottom of the cloud layer and bring back small pieces of cloud for use in the ship, but had to be coached in their installation and shaping. Just like with the terminal, my own lack of proficiency with such advanced arcano-technology made things more difficult, but not insurmountable.

Flying up to the cloud ceiling reminded me of the one time I had crossed above it before. Considering how they had reacted to me coming up there with a small wagon and a few passengers, I dreaded to think what they would do if a pre-war battleship suddenly appeared in their midst. My concerns were abated by Bright's chief mechanic, who along with Clank had determined that without its cloud components, the ship wouldn't be able to get more than fifty feet of altitude. It was both a relief and a bit of a disappointment, considering how impressive the changes made to allow for flight without clouds had been.

During the time I spent helping repair the command deck of the old ship, Rottingtail and May undertook their own projects helping Bright and her followers. Rottingtail spent his time assisting Bright's followers in getting the raptor's magical energy cannons working again. He argued that, in spite of Bright's premonition that the land they were intending to travel to was free of equine life, there might still be other threats there that they would need to be able to defend themselves against. To be honest, I think part of it was him trying to overcompensate for what he perceived as his failures in protecting Trottingham.

For the same reason, May went on scavenging mission with Bright's followers to retrieve as many medical supplies as they could find. At the same time, Bright travelled around Equestria, each time coming back with small groups of ghouls who had decided to join her and her followers in their journey to 'salvation'. She was working to bring as many as she could fit into the raptor. May almost always headed to the same place as Bright. Considering her inherent curiosity, I imagined she spent as much time studying Bright's condition as she did scavenging.

After almost a week, the work finally drew to a close. The last few panels were welded back into place, all the previously unused generators were activated, and the shanty town that had grown around the crashed warship was dismantled as the ghouls living there moved their belongings into their lodgings on board the ship. In all, there were going to be over three hundred ghouls making the journey along with Bright, including May, Rottingtail and I.

Over the days since the Trottingham massacre, the ghouls following Bright had been a great support to all of us. After many discussions with Bright's followers, we found that many of those who had chosen to come along with her had done so because they felt the land of Equestria had little left for them, and savoured the chance to start over in a new land with new friends and, in a few cases, family. With the loss of Trottingham, the three of us had all lost the last vestige of a home we had in Equestria. There wasn't a single ghoul who had survived Trottingham that chose to stay behind.

Night was falling on the day before the journey, and all of the ghouls were outside the ship, save for a few who were making last minute adjustments and running tests on the ship before it took off. All the rest were gathered in a single, large crowd before a scrap metal stage upon which Bright now stood. May, Rottingtail and I stood together at the head of the Trottingham refugees, awaiting the glowing ghoul's address.

“My fellow children of the megaspells,” Bright called out over the crowd, the magical echo of her voice making her sound almost regal. “The time for which we have all laboured and struggled is finally upon us. Soon we shall depart for a new land, one free of those who would persecute, fear or even pity us. I give my thanks to the Goddesses, who have blessed me with the visions of this land, and their guidance that led me to be able to share it with all of you.”

There was a thunderous roar of hooves stamping in applause. Bright waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing. “Let us look forward to this new land with a sense of hope, but let us also not forget that which we are leaving behind. Though the land of Equestria no longer nurtures us as it once did, it still gave us life in the times before war and darkness. Though we now leave to make our own new home, let us not forget the one in which we were raised.

“Lastly, let us not forget those who could not join us on this journey of salvation.” The crowd fell into a hush at the solemn tone struck by the glowing one. “The citizens of Trottingham, who only wanted to live in peace, were torn from their home and killed unjustly for something beyond their control. Many of those among us come from similar tragedies, borne of ignorance and fear. And still there are also those who could not evade the cruel fate of succumbing to their feral urges. Let us bear their memory forward to our new home, that we might not let such tragedy occur again.

“And so, in the honour of our homes and friends, both old and new, and those who could not be with us today, I hereby declare that our journey shall begin on the morrow, and thusly dub our vessel.”

Bright turned away from the crowd, facing the now flight worthy raptor. Her horn lit up with an intense glow and a stream of concentrated magical energy burst forth. The beam struck a larger sheet of metal that had been welded to the hull. The glowing ghoul moved her horn, using the magical energies to burn a name into that sheet. When she was finished, her glow had dimmed, having used the radiation to permanently sear the ship's new name onto its side. Renewal.

Bright turned to face the crowd once more; “Now, I bid all of my fellow children to come aboard the Renewal, and rest this night. Though we may not need it as we once did, it shall still be a boon to us before our journey. As you rest, I shall be restoring my reserves of energy in preparation for the journey so that you might all share in the blessing of the glow that was bestowed upon me.”

***

I awoke from my rest with a jolt. Within the small quarters I had been assigned along with a few other ghouls, Rottingtail included, I could see that all of them had awoken suddenly as well. Rottingtail, who I had slept with the night before, was notably absent. Through the walls of the Renewal's interior I could hear the engines of the former warship grinding and roaring to life. At first I thought I had overslept, but a glance at the clock on the wall told me that it was still nearly two hours before Bright had told us we would be departing on the journey.

Had something gone wrong? Or was this perhaps just a last minute test of the engines, making sure the ship could properly fly with all its passengers aboard. A quick glance at the others told me they were none the wiser, and the lot of us quickly got out of our beds. We scrambled out into the hallway, looking around at other ghouls who had done the same. There were mutterings both frantic and confused as everypony tried to figure out what was going on.

From the end of the hall, May's magically amplified voice boomed. “Everypony, please remain calm.” The scurrying stopped and the hall fell silent as everypony turned to look at May. Two of Bright's magical energy weapon carrying followers flanked her. With everypony's attention focused on her, she cut off her spell. “Somepony has broken into the command deck and commandeered the Renewal. We are currently trying to discern the details of who and for what reason.”

Hushed whispers of worry ran through the crowd. My lazy eye rolled back into the room I had just come from, landing on the bed Rottingtail and I had shared. I trotted back into the room, checking the footlocker at the end of the bed. Rottingtail's battle saddle, hat and armoured barding were all absent. A wave of panic hit me; surely he hadn't...

There was a crackle of static over the Renewal's internal speaker system that only served to confirm my fears. “Sorry about the turbulence folks,” came the voice of the ghoul sheriff, “but Ah ain't exactly experienced at flyin' this fancy kerjigger. Don't none o' ya'll fret now, Ah ain't fixin' to do anythin' t'get in the way of our little 'salvation' trip, but Ah felt there was a necessary detour we had to take first.”

I felt myself pressed towards the floor lightly as the ship began to ascend. Without stopping to think, I threw myself into the air, thankful that there was enough clearance for me to actually fly inside. I guess I had the fact that it was a pegasus ship to thank for that. I dashed out of the hall and over the crowd, with more than enough room to soar cleanly over top of them. I could hear May shouting for me, but I passed her by along with the others, heading straight for the lift to the command deck.

I slowed down as I felt a tingling sensation wrap around my body. I stopped in midair, turning around to see May galloping up behind me, her horn glowing. The two ghoul guards that had been with her ran up behind her moments later. “What... is going... on?” She asked, panting between words.

Strangely, I found that I knew the answer. Or at least, could make a reasonable guess. “Rottingtail was gone when I woke up. I think he's heading towards Trottingham.”

“What?” barked May, sounding more hoarse that usual. “Why would he-”

“We're in a flying battleship,” I replied before May could finish asking. I wanted to keep moving and get to Rottingtail before something bad happened to him, or anypony else for that matter. “What else would he do with it?”

I heard May gulp audibly as I turned away from her and flew through the corridors of the Renewal. I could hear the galloping hoofsteps of May and her escorts as they tried to follow me, but other crowds of ghouls milling about in the confusion slowed them down. As I sped through the bowels of the ship, my mind was strangely blank. I wanted everything to be okay, I wanted nothing bad to have happened to anypony. I knew it was naive to think so, but I really hoped otherwise. At the very least, I wanted to be the first one to reach the command deck so I could at least try talking to Rottingtail. When I reached the lift to the command deck, there was nopony else around. That was either very good, or very bad.

The lift seemed to take forever to come down to my level, and an eternity going back up. I would have flown up the shaft if I thought it would get me there faster. My mind was trying to put pieces into place during the ride up. Rottingtail had seemed to be getting better over the week as he worked with Bright's followers. Had it all been an act so he could try and get his revenge against the Steel Rangers? Had he been planning this the entire time?

The door opened onto the narrow hallway leading to the command deck, and I was met with the sight of two of Bright's armed followers, both hunched over on their knees. They were alive, but seemed to be struggling to breathe. I galloped to them and helped them get to their hooves. Both of them were sporting multiple, heavy bruises on their chests. My lazy eye rolled to the floor, catching a glimpse of expended rubber bullets. I instantly swelled with a small bit of relief that Rottingtail hadn't killed any of the other ghouls.

Before I could say anything to question to two, there was a brilliant flash behind me. I turned to find Bright standing before me. It surprised me that she appeared to be worried rather than infuriated. She looked at me, speaking calmly but firmly. “Ditzy Doo, can you explain this?”

I had to shake my head; “I don't know what brought this on. He was with me last night and he seemed to be doing better lately and-”

Bright raised a hoof to my muzzle, quieting me. She stepped past me to the guards, the radiation shedding off of her causing their bruises to fade incredibly quickly. “What happened here?”

The ghoul to my left, a unicorn mare, answered her. “We were keeping watch over the entrance to the command deck when he came up through the lift. At first we were wary because he was armed, but he just started talking.”

The other ghoul, this one an earth pony stallion, continued; “He was fast. He was in the middle of a sentence when he fired at us. Three rubber rounds each into the chest before we could react. He stepped over us and sealed the door.”

Bright nodded her understanding; “The room is sealed and warded; that explains why I was not able to simply transport myself inside.” She turned to face me; “Ditzy, you are closest to him, and I know you would not wish to see any harm come to him. Nor do I wish to cause it to my fellow ghoul. Do you think you can talk him out of this fool's errand?”

“I'll try,” I said, hoping that I could. I turned away from Bright and trotted up to the cloud terminal. As I suspected, it was untouched, and still unlocked. I told the terminal to open the door, and stepped inside.

***

Rottingtail was easy to find inside the now pristine looking command center. He stood silent and still, looking out the window as the ship began to move forward. The ship was not really all that fast, and even at its top speed, it would probably have taken a few days to reach Trottingham. He turned around as I entered, not seeming surprised in the slightest. He turned away and kept looking out the window, his gaze fixed on where Trottingham lay beyond the horizon.

I took to the air, flying through the bridge and landing a short distance behind him. He didn't move, keeping his gaze locked forward. “You know...” I said, trying to come up with something to say. I drew a blank.

“This ain't revenge,” the ghoul sheriff said calmly, evenly. “It's justice.”

“What?” was all I could manage to say. I looked behind me, but Bright remained behind the open doorway, holding her guards back. She was going to let me handle this, thankfully.

“Justice in the wasteland comes in a bit o' a different flavour from when Ah was just a small town sheriff in Appleoosa,” he claimed, still refusing to look at me. “But Ah still know what it is and what it isn't.”

“This isn't right,” I protested. “After everything Bright and her followers did for us, to do this is-”

Rottingtail shook his head; “Ah got every bit o' appreciation fer what she and her folk did fer us, but that ain't the point. The Steel Rangers came in and slaughtered more'n five hundred innocent ghouls. If anypony else in the wasteland did somethin' like that, somepony would surely step up and put a stop to it. Th' only thing stoppin' anypony from givin' the Rangers their just deserts is that there ain't nopony with proper ordinance what c'n stop'em. Why do y'think Ah was so insistent on gettin' this ship ready fer a fight?”

“This wouldn't be a fight,” I countered, “it would be a slaughter.”

“It's no more'n they deserve,” spat Rottingtail, his composure slipping.

“And what about you?” I asked earnestly. “Slaughtering them would make you no better than they are if you're not trying to protect anypony.”

“Ah know,” claimed Rottingtail to my surprise. He seemed to be trying hard to steel his resolve. “Which is why Ah acted alone. Ah was responsible fer Trottingham, and now Ah'm gonna make sure they get what's comin' to 'em with nopony else takin' the fall fer me again. Them Steel Rangers gotta be shown, even if Equestria is twisted and blackened, that bullshit like what they pulled will not stand. Even if it's just fer show at this point, it still needs to be done.”

“Will it be enough for you?” I demanded. A part of me really wanted to be mad at Rottingtail for what he was pulling, but I knew that he was as torn up about everything as I was. If I could just get him to step down... “Will killing the Steel Rangers who destroyed our home be enough for you?”

“No,” he said flatly. “If it were up to me, Ah'd take this thing all 'round and scorch every last one of them Ranger bastards off the face of Equestria. But that ain't muh responsibility; just Trottingham.”

Nothing I was saying seemed to be swaying Rottingtail. There had to be some way to make him see that this was a mistake. “What about... Applejack?”

Rottingtail stiffened noticably. He actually turned to face me, his face looking on the verge of bursting into any number of emotions. “Or for that matter, any of the Apple Family?” I pressed. “Would Silver Sand, Braeburn, Applejack or Apple Crumble want this?”

Rottingtail snapped; “What the hell do you think you know?!”

That stung, but I shook my head and sighed; “I don't know. They were your family. I only knew Apple Crumble for half as long as you did, so I'm counting on you to know what he, or any of them really, would want.”

Rottingtail's face contorted, seeming to twist through a plethora of emotions all at once. His lower lip trembled and, finally, he broke into wretched sobs. He hadn't cried since the massacre at Trottingham, and all of that pent up sadness flowed out all at once. He collapsed to the floor, his bad leg shaking so hard that it couldn't support him. I laid down next to him, folding a wing over him and pulling his head into my breast. He just lay there, crying. He went on for almost a full half hour before stopping, and I laid there, holding him the entire time.

***

By the time he had finally stopped crying, May had arrived, and she, Bright, and the two guards had entered the command deck. As the four of them approached as, I helped Rottingtail stand up. He looked up at Bright and her guards, then down to the floor. He didn't have anything to say. May looked like she was torn between anger and sympathy towards our friend, and in the end, sympathy won out. She trotted over to us and pulled both of us into a hug.

After the hug was released, Bright stepped forward towards Rottingtail. He didn't look up, unwilling to face her. “Sheriff Rottingtail, what have you to say for yourself?”

“Ain't nothin' to say,” he replied, his voice hoarser than usual. “Ah dun made one mistake too many, and Ah got no right t' try'n evade the consequences now.”

Bright shook her head, her echoing voice sad more than anything; “I will do no harm upon you, but this act cannot go without reprimand. You have shown yourself to aggressive, vengeful and forceful, traits that I do not wish to come with us to the land of salvation. Thusly, I cannot permit you to take the journey with us. You will remain here in Equestria for the rest of your days.”

Rottingtail said nothing, apparently more than willing to accept this. Frankly I was a little surprised that Bright was so lenient. Then again, considering her beliefs, denying him the 'salvation' may well have been, in her mind at least, a sentence worse than any other. I stepped forward; “I'm staying too.”

Bright looked at me, her expression changing to shock; “But Miss Ditzy Doo, without you the journey to salvation would not even be possible. If anything, you are the one who deserves this gift from the Goddesses the most.”

I shook my head; “I'm really nothing that special. Besides, I've already given you all the help I can. He needs me now more than you do.”

Bright let out a sigh, but seemed to accept this. “If that is your wish, then I shall not begrudge it to you.” She turned to look at May; “Will you be staying as well?”

May didn't hesitate; “Of course. I'm not about to abandon my oldest friends. Besides, there's still lots of other ghouls here that need my talents.”

Bright nodded; “Very well. I shall tell the other children what transpired here. Hopefully they will not see it as a desertion or betrayal. If you've no objections, I can send you back to Stalliongrad. They may or may not be willing to accept you there, but from my previous interactions with them, I know that at least they will not shun you indiscriminately.”

I looked to May and Rottingtail, and the three of us nodded in unison. Bright stepped forward, her horn glowing with magical light fuelled by the radiation in her body. The glow wrapped around the three of us, and with another brilliant flash, we were gone.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul; Mildly Irradiated.
Lucidity: Moderately-Low

Ghoul Tip: Don't forget their faces – Hold on to the memories of your friends and family as long as you can. Even if they're no longer with you, their spirits may help you find solace in the blasted ruins of Equestria.

Chapter 12: Windows and Mirrors

Chapter 12: Windows and Mirrors

“But the two things I did know: souls had a living power, and a soul was a hard thing to kill.”

Heroes.

The one thing the Equestrian Wasteland really needs more of, and there never seems to be any around. Heroes suffer in the wastes, but this much is common knowledge. The sheer amount of darkness, fear and evil that has seeped into the heart of the land was enough to drown, suffocate or crush anypony who tried to stand up against it. Yet, there were still those that did it. Those that became heroes because they knew it was what Equestria needed. Most times, it's hard to be sure if the cost is worth it for them. Even less clear is whether or not these heroes will ever truly make a difference. Is there some measure of magnitude that a hero must achieve before they falter in order to generate progress? Or are they simply rallying in vain against an unstoppable force.

How do you measure the magnitude of a hero anyways? By how many bad guys they kill? How many ponies they save? How many disasters they avert? Heroism is a hard thing to quantify. At what point does somepony become a hero? What is the truest essence of one, and can it be created? Could we narrow it down and start making heroes until such time as one comes along that's enough of a hero to fix everything? Would it be worth the price?

***

The brilliant flash around Rottingtail, May and I fell away as the three of us were deposited back on solid ground. It was still fairly early in the morning, enough that the clouds on the horizon shone a brilliant orange. It was still possible to see the Renewal flying off in the distance; it hadn't gotten all that far. I found myself wondering how well Rottingtail had really thought that through, considering how long the slow moving ship would have taken to reach Trottingham. I didn't bring this up though; he had hurt enough already.

Turning away from the flying vessel, the three of us could see Stalliongrad about a half-mile away. This city had been both the birthplace and final resting place for heroes more than once. The three of us, having nowhere better to turn at the moment, started heading towards the old city. As we got closer, it became increasingly apparent that the launch of the Renewal had not gone unnoticed by the town near which it had previously been anchored. I could make out a few ponies running around the city's perimeter wall, trying to get a glimpse of the ship.

My lazy eye rolled away from the Stalliongrad wall, landing on a pony that was running towards us. I turned to face her, gesturing for May and Rottingtail so they would notice her to. She was a white coated unicorn with an almost white, pale pink, short cropped mane. Her eyes were also bright red, making me wonder momentarily if she was an albino. She wasn't armed, and was carrying only a pair of saddlebags. Behind her I could see that the gates into the city were open, indicating she had just come from within.

She trotted up to us, stopping for a moment to catch her breath. My lazy eye caught a glimpse of her cutie mark, which was a microphone. When she had caught her breath, she looked up to the three of us curiously; “Hey there,” she said casually. Then she began to talk at an incredibly brisk pace; “So, I heard the commotion going on this morning and when I came out, I saw that big ship thingy flying by and was all like 'whoa'! Then, while I'm trying to get myself in a position for a better look, I see this huge flash of green on the far side of the wall, and I think to myself 'what if there's a connection'? So I ran out here to check it out and I find three ghouls who-”

May held up a hoof to the obviously excited albino mare; “I'm sorry, but could you slow down just a bit.” The mare stopped cold, looking a little sheepish. “Now then, might I ask who you are?”

“Oh,” exclaimed the mare. “Sorry, got excited there. Name's Bonus Track; I work as a correspondent for DJ P0N-3. He's got eyes everywhere, but doesn't always get all the details, so that's where I come in.”

“Ah,” stated May. “I take it then that you are looking for information regarding that ship?”

“You got it!” Bonus Track's horn lit up, opening her saddlebags and floating out a pencil and a pad of paper. She paused for a moment, looking up at the three of us; “You guys do know something about that ship don't you? All I know from before is that there were a bunch of ghouls living there, and since you guys are ghouls I just made the assumption that you would know. Some ponies thought is was a herd of ferals, but obviously that's not the case.”

My head reeled a little; with what had happened with Rottingtail this morning, I was having a hard time keeping up with this rather energetic mare. Thankfully, May seemed at least able to parse her mile-a-minute speech. “We do know the story with that ship, but I'm not sure this is the best time or place. My friends have had a rather emotionally trying morning and I think-”

The albino mare managed to look abashed; “Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that. Here I come running up demanding answers without even considering what might be going on with you. Tell you what, I've got a room in town. I'll put your friends up and you can tell me what you know in a more proper setting.”

May looked to Rottingtail and I, and both of us simply nodded. Bonus Track seemed thrilled at the prospect of getting information for DJ P0N-3, and turned back towards Stalliongrad, leading the three of us along behind her. May looked at me apologetically, but I wasn't mad about this turn of events. I was actually pleased that we would be able to get into the city and even have a private place to talk without any hassle.

As we moved towards the city, Bonus prattled on almost incessantly. I wished I could share her enthusiasm, but neither Rottingtail nor I were in any mood. Even May only seemed able to give the mare part of her attention, although that might have been due to the volume of words she was spouting rather than a lack of interest. As we walked, May returned my belongings to me, including my saddlebags and rifle. She would later explain that she had returned to grab them for me before heading up to the command deck.

***

During our trip through the streets of Stalliongrad, we were met with strange looks. A few mothers pulled their foals closer and eyed us warily. However, like Bright had stated, none of them were openly hostile. It probably also helped that we were in the company of somepony they knew. The pre-war city had been built upon much like we ghouls had back in Trottingham, with scrap metal shanties interspersed around the older surviving buildings. The building that Bonus Track led us to was a prewar apartment building that had been converted into a hotel. It was simply called 'Stalliongrad Suites'.

The main entrance to the building was a set of double doors that would have been moderately fancy if the glass hadn't been melted and crudely patched over with sheet metal. The counter inside was made of oak, and would have also been nice if it weren't scorched black. Bonus trotted right up and stuck a service bell. My lazy eye rolled over the counter, where I saw an elderly earth pony mare in a wheelchair talking to another customer. The fact that she managed to live long enough to have grey in her mane while crippled was surprising given the wasteland's normal cruelty. Said customer was wearing a travel cloak, but I could see a beak poking out of the hood. As well, the customer handed a small satchel of bottlecaps over with a talon. The rifle strapped to the griffon's back made me wonder if he was a Talon mercenary like Gilda had been.

The griffon seemed to notice that my gaze had fallen on him, and he quickly turned and departed from the hotel. The mare behind the counter snorted, then turned her chair and wheeled over to where Bonus Track was standing. She looked the mare over, then glanced at us three ghouls. I couldn't really read her expression.

“Friends of yours?” asked the mare, addressing the albino DJ's assistant.

“You betcha Peaches,” she beamed. “They have info for me regarding that big ship thingy. I'm going to be interviewing this one,” she said, gesturing to May, “but these two need some 'alone time'.” The way she emphasized 'alone time' drew a questioning look from the hotel matron. I said nothing, feeling a bit embarrassed. I knew that wasn't the reason we needed the room, but trying to deny it at this point would just seem sketchy.

“So long as they got the caps to pay for a room,” Peaches said, shrugging.

Bonus Track shook her head; “Oh no, they're just going to borrow mine for a bit while I do the interview.” Another odd look. “You mind if I use the private parlour so I can record without interruptions?”

“I'll just put it on your tab,” muttered Peaches. She then turned around and rolled her chair to a board of keys on pegs, one of which she plucked off the wall before turning back around and wheeling herself back to the counter. She set the key down, allowing me to pick it up in my teeth. I tried to smile, but the mare just shrugged; “I've have all sorts through here before, don't worry yourself about it.”

I was unable to keep my cheeks from flushing, and quickly turned away from the mare to try and cool my head. I saw Bonus Track chatting with May as the two of them walked away through another part of the lobby. Rottingtail and I headed towards the stairs and up to her room to talk.

***

Bonus Track's room was on the second floor. Like the rest of the building, it was reasonably constructed, but damaged by the megaspell that hit the city and the eighty years of time that followed. Rottingtail and I closed the door behind us, trotting over to a sitting area and seating ourselves on a couple of chairs. There room filled with a pregnant silence as we just sat there looking at each other, not really knowing what to say. I let out a sigh and tried to start.

“Listen, Lone Star-”

Rottingtail held up a hoof; “Ah'm sorry, Ditzy, but could you please not call me that anymore? Lone Star is who Ah was back when Ah was a responsible sheriff and caretaker. It was who ah was back when Ah had a family. Ah ain't that pony anymore. Ah'm just another ghoul now.” He hung his head, looking about to cry. “Ah already told ya, that pony died with the last of muh family.”

I raised a hoof of my own, placing it on Rottingtail's good shoulder. “You still have me. You and Apple Crumble were the closest thing I ever had to family. I know it hurts, and it might not get better for a long time, but you're not alone.” Tears started to pool in my eyes. “Nopony should have to be alone,” I insisted; “May's here too, and you'll always have your fond memories of them.”

Rottingtail raised his head, looking at least a little appreciative. “You've been handlin' this a lot better than Ah have Ditzy. Yer makin' me feel right foolish.”

I shook my head, tears falling; “I've just been distracting myself really. The whole thing with Bright's group was just me trying to get away from everything that happened. I felt like helping them might help me too, but really it was just a diversion. I know you feel responsible for what happened in Trottingham, but really I'm at fault as much as you are.”

“Well,” said Rottingtail, placing his hoof contemplatively on his chin, “Ah reckon at least those that survived are gonna get to a better place now...” he trailed off, looking away from me. “An' Ah went'n cost ya'll that chance.”

I shook my head; “I don't blame you for that. I chose to stay behind with you.” I smiled, albeit a bit halfheartedly; “Besides, Equestria is still my home. We'll find a way to make this work.”

I pulled Rottingtail into a hug, which he returned with his good hoof. We just stayed there for a while, holding each other. Back then, I really thought things might actually work out for us. I had really hoped they would.

***

After a while, Rottingtail and I headed back downstairs we passed by the front desk, where Peaches looked at us curiously. I returned the room key to her in silence, hoping she would take Bonus Track's earlier comment with a cube of salt. She directed us to the parlour in which Bonus Track was interviewing May and we moved on, following the hallway on the other side of the lobby. This parlour seemed to be in better condition than most of the rest of the building, although I suspected that was due to more recent renovations, judging by the lack of scorch marks.

We found May and Bonus sitting in a booth at the far end of the room. The albino unicorn took a moment to flag us down with her hoof before turning her attention back to the interview she was giving May. I noticed that she had a Pipbuck of her own attached to that foreleg. As Rottingtail and I trotted up, May was at the tail end of explaining about Bright's group and the Renewal. We seated ourselves and waited for her to finish. As May spoke, Bonus held her PipBuck up to my friend, where a peripheral that I assumed was a recording device of some kind was plainly visible.

“Wow,” said Bonus Track, looking as astonished as she sounded. “That's quite the story. I would be tempted to call horseapples, but...” she waved her Pipbuck over the three of us, eliciting the soft clicking of a radiation detector. Apparently there was some left over from when Bright had teleported us. “Between the radiation, the flash of light and the ship flying away, I don't think you're yankin' my chain.”

May's horn lit up, and a packet of RadAway floated out of her saddlebags towards Bonus Track; “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly; “I've been around other ghouls for so long that I stopped paying attention to the radiation detector.”

“No biggie,” said Bonus, taking the packet from May in a field of her own magic. “A few rads is worth it for that kind of story. I've had worse anyways.” In spite of her remarks, the albino unicorn downed the RadAway potion swiftly. She made a mock gagging face and then snickered at us. “Even more so because I finally got the scoop on Trottingham. After a week of nothing, DJ was convinced there hadn't been any survivors at all. Actually, it should be close to news time about now.”

Bonus Track paused for a moment, then brought up the radio on her PipBuck, setting it to DJ P0N-3's station. It was about midway through a song by Sapphire Shores, the end of which brought the voice of the DJ to the airwaves.

“Good afternoon Equestria, this is your host with the most, DJ P0N-3! It's that time again, for the news that is. Been gettin' a lot of talk about some strange flying black... thing out near Stalliongrad. Well, that thing is some kind of pre-war airship, and somepony saw fit to fix it up. Other than that, I got nothin'. It flew past the city earlier this morning, and has since moved on. It's passed by a couple of settlements along the way, but thus far has done nothin' but keep moving. Thankfully, I got somepony in Stalliongrad actin' as my eyes on sight, so this mystery should be cleared up shortly.”

Bonus beamed visibly at the mention of her, despite its implicit nature. However, the radio personality apparently wasn't done yet.

“Speaking of Stalliongrad, there's still no new news regarding the recent mysterious abductions that have plagued the town. I'd advise anypony livin' there to keep their doors locked and windows barred at night, and never go out without a buddy. I'm sure this mess'll be cleaned up soon enough, but for now here's some Sweetie Belle for you.”

Bonus Track shut off the radio as the song began to play. I looked at her curiously; “Abductions?” I thought I remembered hearing something like that mentioned on the radio before, but the last week was a bit of a haze.

Bonus Track returned my gaze; “You didn't know?” I shook my head. “Welp, guess it's my turn to tell a story. It started a couple months ago when Haypenny of the former Stalliongrad Seven went missing.”

I nodded, remembering that. She, along with the one who had apparently drank himself to death a little over a week ago, had been the two surviving members of the group who had retired. “DJ said she'd gone missing,” I observed; “but didn't know more than that.”

“Well, Stalliongrad's ruins are just as dangerous as any other city,” noted Bonus. “At first, they figured she just got herself lost or killed while out doing something. Strider started binge drinking after she disappeared, but nopony thought anything more of it.” Strider had been the other retiree. I shuddered, realizing that the disappearance of his friend and his alcohol related death were probably connected.

“But,” continued Bonus Track, “a week later somepony else went missing. Stolen right out of her home I was told. After that, it was like clockwork. Once a week, somepony would turn up missing. Bars and locks didn't seem to be a deterrent either. Whole town started getting paranoid, but nopony seemed able to predict who would go missing or how the pony doing the abductions got in and out. Always happened without a trace. It's actually the reason why DJ asked me to come out here in the first place.”

“When was the last one?” asked May, looking nervous.

“About a week ago,” replied Bonus Track. She said this without any hint of worry or concern, which confused me. “I'm actually hoping to help them catch the culprit tonight!” She sounded strangely optimistic for somepony dealing with a rash of mysterious disappearances. The she looked at the three of us, her expression changing quickly to something more contemplative; “You ghouls don't need to sleep, right?”

The three of us all shook our heads. “Not normally, no,” replied May. I figured out where this was going a moment before she said it; “Why, do you think we can help?”

Bonus Track smiled broadly at us; “Absolutely!” She opened her saddlebags again, this time floating out a small arcano-tech peripheral that looked like the one slotted into her PipBuck. She floated it over to May, who raised her own PipBuck, into which Bonus inserted the device. “That's a broadcaster,” she explained; “With that and the tag for my PipBuck, you can send me a message easy peasy, and the range should be good enough to cover any of the occupied parts of the town.” May's Pipbuck bleeped as Bonus gave her the aforementioned tag. “Nopony else in this town even has a Pipbuck, so I hadn't been able to try this yet.”

May nodded firmly, then began fiddling with the new peripheral. I looked to the albino unicorn curiously; “Does the abductor always come at the same time?” I asked.

Bonus shrugged; “Dunno; most of the time whoever goes missing isn't found out about until the morning after. However, it always happens overnight, that much I'm sure of. In the meantime, you guys want some lunch? Peaches has her own little garden out back; freshest salad you'll find anywhere. That I know of at least.” She paused, looking at us contemplatively; “Ghouls eat, right?”

***

Peaches' salad was actually the tastiest thing I'd eaten in a long time, even though I had no real need to eat anything at all. After that, the three of us discussed Bonus's plan. She was going to stay in her room here at the hotel with her broadcaster tuned into the tag of May's Pipbuck. May would be outside with us patrolling the city. Thanks to her EFS, she would have the best chance of spotting anypony that wasn't among the city's guards or residents. Rottingtail would be with her, and would fire off his battle saddle to signal everypony if they spotted anything. May would let Bonus know through the broadcaster, and she would use her own EFS to coordinate with May so that they could box in whoever the assailant was. Even if neither of them saw anything, they would check in with each other every half hour or so.

In the meantime, I would be flying overhead and keeping my eyes out for anything unusual. My eyes didn't exactly make for the best scouting, but I was the only pony around who could get a bird's eye view. I could have used the scope of my rifle in place of binoculars or the like, but it would narrow my field of vision too much. Bonus wanted our area of observation to be as wide as possible at all times. It certainly wasn't helping that the wind was picking up. It would probably start to storm before the night was over.

It was around halfway through the night and I was flying over the town. I had yet to see anything that I would consider out of the ordinary, although I hadn't really seen much of anything aside from the others on patrol. My lazy eye rolled downwards, landing on May and Rottingtail, who were walking the street beneath me. May was turning from side to side as she trotted, watching unseen markers on her EFS. Rottingtail kept his back to her, covering her with his battle saddle.

Flapping down gently to meet them I waved them over to me. “Seen anything yet?” Considering that there had been no signal of any kind, I figured I already knew the answer. Still, I wanted to take a break from my lone scouting and have a bit of conversation.

May shook her head in response; “There hasn't been anything of any kind anywhere. Still, that kind of worries me, considering all the previous instances happened without any kind of signs before hoof.”

Rottingtail turned to face me; “May's got a point; even with her'n Bonus Track's fancy PipBuck-o-vision, there's no guarantee we'll actually spot anythin'.”

I was a bit disappointed to hear my friends' pessimistic outlooks, even if they were warranted. “What about Bonus?” I asked; “Has she had any luck?”

May looked contemplative. “Actually, I think she fell asleep. I tried to check in with her a few minutes ago, as we have been, but there was no response.”

My ears shot up in alarm; “You don't think she-”

May raised a hoof to cut me off, alleviating my concerns. “I have been keeping an eye on the Stalliongrad Suites more than any other building, just in case. There hasn't been any hostile activity over there. Besides, there would have been some kind of struggle for us to overhear.” May added some medical knowledge for extra affirmation; “Albinos are notorious for having a weaker constitution than most, and she's not a ghoul like us. I can't really blame her for needing to rest.”

I let out a brief sigh of relief, by my lazy eye insisted on rolling towards the hotel. “Perhaps I should check in on her then,” I mused. “I'm not having any luck scouting from above-” I gestured to my bad eye for emphasis “-so maybe I could keep an eye on her broadcaster while she's asleep.”

My looked at me curiously; “You wouldn't be able to use the EFS though; that only works when the PipBuck is worn.”

May once again had a point, but really that wasn't the reason I wanted to go. If Bonus Track had fallen asleep and had a weak constitution, I wanted to make sure she was properly in bed, as opposed to just laying at a table or desk. I admitted as much to Rottingtail and May, both of whom chuckled in response. Apparently that was very 'like me', whatever that meant. They bid me follow through on my desire, but asked that I return to helping them scout once I made sure Bonus was in bed.

***

I landed quietly just out front of the Stalliongrad Suites. After spending the vast majority of the last forty odd years in the company of ghouls, I wasn't used to there being almost nopony up and around all hours of the night. The front doors of the hotel were not locked, but the lights in the lobby were all off. I slipped inside slowly and quietly, not wanting to wake anypony by accident. It was a little put off by how quiet it was, but did my best to move quietly myself.

I took to the air when moving past the first floor room that belonged to Peaches, not wanting to wake the ageing, crippled proprietress with my hooffalls. I continued flying right up the stairs to the second floor, only touching down when I reached Bonus' room. I raised a hoof to tap on the door, but stopped short. If she was asleep, I didn't want to wake her up. Instead, I slowly pressed down on the latch with my hoof. The door opened with a click that seemed much louder than it actually was.

The door was, thankfully, not creaky as I swung it open, owing I presumed to recent maintenance. Without bothering to shut it behind me, I stepped through the entrance and into the room. There was nopony here. Looking around revealed that the main room of the suite was entirely empty. I could clearly see the table on which Bonus had set up a terminal to use with her PipBuck, but Bonus herself was absent.

Walking over to the bedroom, the door of which was open a crack, I thought of May's observations. If Bonus had gone to sleep on her own, my coming here would have been for nothing. I cracked a smile, finding a small amusement in that. I pushed the door open a bit and looked inside, expecting to see Bonus Track asleep on the bed. She wasn't. Pushing the door open all the way, I saw that the bed was still fully made, and hadn't been slept in at all.

Bonus Track was gone. Panic raced through me as I quickly checked every nook and cranny of the hotel room. She was nowhere to be found. Back in the main room, I paced back and forth past Bonus' terminal, wondering how she could have disappeared without anypony noticing. Stopping to look at the terminal revealed nothing; it was just entries of what May had reported to her at each half hour interval up to the last one, which was blank. Each one of them had some variant of 'nothing' written beside it.

My mind reeled, the gears of my brain spinning fruitlessly trying to figure out how she could have disappeared without anypony noticing. The silence and my thoughts were shattered as a strong gust of wind blew the window on the far side of the main room. Frustrated, but having nothing to vent it on, I flew over to the window and slammed it shut. It was blown open again moments later, forcing me to turn around and shut it again. I placed my hoof on the latch to lock it shut.

The latch was broken... no, wait. I strained my bad eye, forcing it to focus on the window in front of me. The latch on the window wasn't broken; the bolt itself had been cut clean through. The window had been locked, and whoever had come in had somehow cut the bolt. My mind tried to ponder how that could have been done, then came to a screeching halt. Why the hell was I wondering about this now? Bonus was almost certainly in danger! However, she hadn't been gone more than half an hour, and May had the tag for her PipBuck. So long as she was still wearing it, I presumed we could track her down. I flew out the now open window, and up the street.

***

I found Rottingtail and May not far from where they had been when I left them minutes earlier. I landed clumsily and skidded to a stop in front of them. “Bonus is gone!” I declared with all the urgency I could.

“What?” cried May. “How could that be possible, I was-”

“We can worry about that later,” I said, cutting her off before she started thinking about it like I had tried to. “You can track her PipBuck right?”

May nodded, holding her Pipbuck up and scrolling over to the map. With a few taps of her hoof, a marker appeared. May seemed shocked and more than a little ashamed that she had completely missed what had happened. Bonus' tag was moving deeper into the city, but not very quickly. We could still catch up. At the same time, Rottingtail reared up, firing his rifles into the air. My lazy eye rolled up to a nearby rooftop, where one of the three guards that was patrolling the town that night stopped, looking down to us. I heard shouting in the distance, indicating that the other two had heard the signal as well.

“Go,” I urged May, “start following her. I'll tell the guards what I found, then catch up. Keep your horn lit up and I'll find you.”

It took a few minutes for the guards to gather together, allowing May and Rottingtail to get a head start chasing after Bonus' signal. I relayed the information to them as quickly as I could, wanting to catch up to my friends before they got too far ahead. The guards were surprised to learn about the cut window bolt, having not seen any other signs of forced entry in the previous abductions. The lead guardpony instructed one of the others to go and check the homes of Haypenny and the other victims for this oversight of theirs.

I turned towards the older parts of Stalliongrad, waving a hoof for the guards to follow. Frustratingly, they refused. “That part of the city is crawling with zombies,” claimed the leader. “Ain't goin' anywhere near there without a full squad.”

I facehoofed; “You're well armed guard ponies, but you're afraid of a few ferals?”

The other guard shook his head; “You'n your friends might be fine, since you're zo- ghouls too, but any normal pony what goes that way is just asking to get eaten alive.”

I really wanted to knock some sense into these guards, but time was of the essence. I turned and flew off in the direction I had seen May and Rottingtail running in. I promised myself that when I came back (with Bonus) that they would be in for an earful. Not only that, but we would be putting an end to these abductions once and for all. If the pony who had taken Bonus made it back to wherever he had been coming from, then we would be able to take care of him, and maybe even find out what had happened to the others that had been kidnapped in the preceding weeks.

May was not difficult to find; the light from her horn acting as a clear beacon. They had not gotten all that far into the city, achingly slowed by Rottingtail's bad leg. I flew in beside them and landed deftly, breaking into a trot alongside my friends. “Guard's tell me there are ferals around,” I told them without breaking stride. “Jerk was too scared to follow.”

May scoffed while Rottingtail nickered in dry amusement; “Never could could count on the living in a pinch; too soft.”

May and I both immediately gave him disparaging looks; “We are doing this to save a 'living' pony, remember?” He had the decency to look abashed. I turned to May; “Do you think the other victims might still be there?”

May looked away from me, apparently not sure she wanted to answer honestly. “If they are still there, we'll save them and Bonus alike. If not, we'll make sure they're laid to rest.”

I nodded, willing to accept that for now. A small, nagging part of me insisted that we would be out of luck, but I did my best to ignore it. We were doing this to save Bonus Track. If the other were still alive, then it would be all the better. As the three of us trotted through the ruins of Stalliongrad into the uninhabited areas, it began to rain. Hard.

***

After about an hour of running through Stalliongrad, May brought us to an abrupt halt. We had kept pace with the mysterious abductor, according to the location of Bonus' tag relative to us on May's map. Sadly, Rottingtail's bad leg had kept us from moving fast enough to catch up, and I wasn't about to leave either of them behind when facing off against an unknown and possibly dangerous assailant. Hell, for all we knew there was more than one culprit. We had come to a stop when Bonus' tag had stopping moving. If May's map was accurate, it was inside an office building that apparently used to belong to a publishing company that operated mainly out of Fillydelphia.

“Why did we stop?” I asked, taking a glance at May's Pipbuck. We were a few block away from Bonus' tag.

May held a hoof up to her muzzle, answering me quietly; “Lotsa red lights on my EFS. Damn thing can't tell a radroach from a manticore though, so I wanna move cautiously.

I understood May's desire for our safety, but doing so might be risking Bonus' in exchange. I look at the map on May's Pipbuck. She had it zoomed in to the local area, with our location and Bonus' tag being at the edges of the range. I could make out a few narrow alleys that a pony could fit through, but they wouldn't be wide enough for Rottingtail's battle saddle. He still had his revolver, but I wasn't sure I could ask him to take off his best armaments after May's warning.

For the time being, we moved ahead slowly. We could occasionally hear the low moaning sounds that feral ghouls produced, and tried our best to avoid them. The skittering of radroaches we ignored, knowing that they tended to ignore us as well. That seemed to be the extent of the threats the city held, so it wasn't as bad as we might have feared. Moving as quickly as we dared while still remaining quiet, we stuck close to buildings. It wasn't hard to sneak around with the howl of the wind and the pounding of the heavy rainfall.

As we drew nearer the building in which Bonus was being held, a flash of lightning struck nearby, illuminating the city around us in a stark contrast. In that brief flash, my lazy eye rolled aside. If it hadn't, we might have been killed. My eye caught the edge of a fluttering cloak in the flash, my body naturally turning towards the sight. My ears perked up as I heard the cocking of a gun, and as I stopped turning, I found myself staring down the business end of an SMG.

That SMG was clutched in the talon of a griffon wearing a full body cloak, with the strap of a rifle holder across his breast. A sudden gust of wind blew the rain slicked hood of that cloak back, revealing the griffon's face. Although I didn't know much about griffon physiology, it was evident that this was not a young one. His face was marred with the lines of age, and the crest of plumage atop his head was grey. He was gripping the SMG tightly in a talon, glaring down its sight at me. My lazy eye rolled away, evidently not concerned about the gun in my face.

My eye landed on May and Rottingtail, both of whom had turned to face the griffon as well. Rottingtail kicked his battle saddle, which let out loading 'click' noises that I could barely hear over the storm. For a while, all of us stood stark still as the thunder that followed the lightning boomed overhead. No one moved save for Rottingtail, angling his guns for the best possible shot at the griffon. I did not doubt the speed of his firing, but I feared that if the griffon shot first, I wouldn't live to see the return volley.

“Wait,” muttered the griffon, his eyes moving off the weapon's sights and on to my friends and I. His voice was gruff and unpleasant, yet somehow forceful. “I saw you in the hotel earlier.” His grip on the gun eased ever so slightly. “You ain't zombies, least not yet.” He lowered the SMG, but didn't put it away.

Rottingtail kept his rifles on the griffon. “Ah seen you too. What would a griffon mercenary be doing out here at this time o'night?” Wait, did he think...

The griffon scoffed loudly; “I could ask you the same, cadaver.”

Rottingtail glared at the griffon; “Ah think we might've found our culprit. Seen him payin' off the hotel owner, an' a griffon's talons are sharp as steel.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.

“Peaches wouldn't help with something like that,” protested May, “she's-”

The griffon cut her off; “You some kinda numbskull? A Talon's gotta pay fer his rooms, same as anyone. The fuck you mean 'culprit' anyways?”

“Don't play dumb,” sneered Rottingtail. “Yer the one what's behind the abductions, ain't ya?”

The griffon looked dumbfounded. He turned to me; “Is yer friend alright in the head? I just got here this morning. Those abductions have been goin' on fer weeks, according to that radio buck. Hell, a few folks in town even warned me about it while I was lookin' fer intel and resupply.”

May stepped in front of Rottingtail, blocking his line of fire; “You know about them?”

“Yeah, but that ain't why I'm here,” retorted the griffon. “Got me a different contract. I was only 'bout to shoot you cuz I thought you was zombies.”

Rottingtail still seemed suspicious; “If it ain't you, then what are ya'll doin' out here?”

“Fulfilling a contract, like I said,” snorted the griffon. He slid his SMG into a holster under his shoulder, apparently looking to avoid undue trouble.

I turned to Rottingtail, motioning for him to lower his rifles. He did so, but only reluctantly. “What did you come out here for?” I asked, trying to ease the tension; “Maybe we can help each other out.”

The griffon snorted, seeming to take that as either offensive or foolish. Still, he relented a little; “Some crazy old hermit sent me on a fetch quest. Some kinda weird collector; wants me to find a little statue for him.” The griffon scoffed at the notion; “I'd have turned him down but for the huge reward he offered. Freak wouldn't even meet me in person; kept sending me messages through those flyin' radios.”

My mental gears spun, going back to the Trottingham MoM hub. I thought of the sprite-bot that had suddenly told me how to find the dash purging agent for May. Was it the same pony? That seemed ridiculously unlikely, given the distance between Stalliongrad and Trottingham, not to mention the fact that the griffon had certainly gotten the transmission somewhere else before coming here. More likely, hacking into the broadcasters of sprite-bots must have been simple, considering the openness of their broadcasting frequency. It was a rather strange way of communicating if you ask me.

The griffon continued; “The ball and chain has been beggin' me to retire for a while now, but that ain't easy out here in the wastes. So I took the job, figuring it would be simple, and the reward would be enough to settle down. Problem is, I had to follow a massive trail of terminal entries all over Equestria to find the damn thing. Didn't help that Ministry of Image hubs don't advertise as much as the others.” I was rather surprised with how open this griffon was about his mission. Despite his age, he still had a lot of size and power over a pony. He probably figured we weren't a threat.

“Is it somewhere in this city?” I asked.

“Maybe;” replied the griffon. “According to the last bit of info I found; the MI's top magician came here at some point after the megaspells. He had the thing on him, so hopefully he died here and I can get it and be done with this venture.”

May stepped forward, raising her Pipbuck to the griffon; “I don't suppose this building was that hub, was it?”

The griffon cast his glance at the map. He actually smirked; “Well, how about that. Looks like we might be headin' the same way after all.” The griffon scratched his beak with a talon; “Tell you what; you use that fancy little map of yours to help me find what I'm looking fer quicker, and I'll see if I can help ya deal with this whole kidnapping thing.”

The griffon offered May a talon, and she shook it with her PipBuck foreleg. “I'm May Cure,” she said, then gestured to Rottingtail and I. “These are my companions, Ditzy Doo and Sheriff Rottingtail.”

The griffon smirked; “Gnarl Grimfeathers.”

***

Although Rottingtail still seemed to be unconvinced that Gnarl was friendly, I was glad to have another ally. Having witnessed the combat prowess of a Talon first hoof, I felt much more confident about what we were going up against, despite not knowing who or what it was. He also turned out to be adept at sneaking through the urban environment, allowing us to reach a secluded alley across the street from the publishing office. Unfortunately for us, the entrance was blocked. A small herd of feral ghouls shuffled around the front doors of the building, looking almost like guard dogs. There were seven of them in all.

My lazy eye rolled up, catching a glimpse of the building where Bonus was being held. I really hoped we were still in time to prevent something from happening to her. Unfortunately, none of the windows looked big enough for us to fit through, especially with how much bigger our new griffon companion was. It was just as well; the wind sheer and rain from the storm would make flying unencumbered difficult, and next to impossible if carrying one of my friends. That left us with just the one way in.

I slipped Stronghoof's rifle off my back and brought it up to my mouth. Before I could get my eye to the scope, Gnarl grabbed the barrel of the rifle and wrenched it out of my mouth. “You some kinda moron?” he whispered forcibly. “You fire a gun like that and the whole damn town'll hear it.”

As much as I was put off by the ache in my muzzle from the griffon's forceful grabbing, he had a point. My rifle was exceptionally loud, even when accounting for the roaring wind and heavy rain. I let the strap fall over my neck, where I could pull it up quickly if I needed to. As I watched, Gnarl slipped his own rifle off his back. His was a powerful looking rifle all on its own; I wondered how it compared in to mine in stopping power. His however, was semi-automatic instead of a bolt action, and fitted with a suppressor. He brought the scope up to his eye, the edge of the barrel poking out of the alley we were currently hiding in.

Pfft.

The griffon's rifle made barely a noise as he flicked the trigger with a talon. I could barely hear it this close, so the sound would have been entirely lost to the storm across the street. Judging by the odd grip he had around the weapon's bit, I could tell that it was a pony made weapon. The irony of him using that while I had a rifle that was originally a griffon design was not lost on me. I was a bit envious; the semi-automatic action made the bolt of my rifle painfully slow by comparison.

I watched the zombie ponies across the street as Gnarl fired at them. His first shot punched clean through the head of one of them, who flopped over like a rag doll. Between it being night, storming, and the shot being effectively silent, the other ghouls took absolutely no notice. They simply kept on shambling. Gnarl fired off four more shots, each expertly dropping one of the ghouls. It was only after five of them were down that the remaining two seemed to finally notice.

His rifle empty and not wanting to waste time reloading, Gnarl slung it back over his back. He latched his claws on the buildings on either side of the alley, using them to throw himself into the air. As I watched, he briefly unfurled his wings from beneath the cloak he wore, showing off their impressive span. He glided across the street, then pulled in his wings, dropping like a rock.

Gnarl landed atop one of the remaining ghouls, crushing its soft, fleshy body under his weight. Before the other one could react, the griffon's talons flashed, tearing half of its face off. It collapsed in a gurgling heap. “You coming?” asked Gnarl, smirking at us from across the street. He pulled off his rifle and reloaded it while we trotted over to join him.

***

The door to the old publishing office was unlocked, and we were able to slip inside easily. The inside was a mess of scorched papers, toppled shelves, dilapidated cubicles and pony skeletons. I watched as Gnarl trotted over to a nearby cubicle, but snorted derisively as he saw the terminal sitting upon it was completely fried. He walked back over to us, saying nothing.

Meanwhile May was turning on the spot, using her EFS to scout the building. “I can see Bonus' tag,” she said, “and she's on my EFS along with one hostile. I just don't know what floor she's on.”

I felt pleased by this news, but also saddened. Bonus was still alright, but the lack of other indicators implied that the others who had been abducted were no longer alive. Still, we would save Bonus, of that I was certain. Mercifully, the building only had six floors for us to search. Growing anxious, I looked around, hoping to find stairs up to the next floor quickly. May found them first; guided by the auto-map of her PipBuck.

We proceeded quickly up the flight of stairs to the second floor, but the entrance to that floor had collapsed, preventing us from getting in for a proper search. We pushed through up to the third storey, this time able to access the floor itself. It was filled with more of the same of what we had seen on the first floor; shelves, cubicles, broken terminals and the skeletons of ponies eighty years dead. We searched the floor quickly, only stopping to pull open a medical box in the employee bathroom. It yielded a couple rolls of bandages, a syringe of painkillers and two healing potions. I was thankful for these, as May had left most of her healing supplies back on the Renewal with Bright, only taking a sparse amount for ourselves.

Leaving the third floor behind us, we moved up to the fourth. This time, we saw something completely different. All of the cubicles had been either dismantled or destroyed, the remaining bits and pieces of them piled on the floor near the walls. The floor itself, the parts of it that I could see, were covered in barely legible chalk writing that was comprised of unintelligible squiggles and glyphs that I could make absolutely no sense of. However, what caught out attention most of all, were t he bodies.

There were eight bodies that we could see, laid against the side of the wall to our left. I felt deeply disturbed, knowing almost instinctively that these were the other ponies who had been kidnapped. They seemed to progress in the range of their decay; with the one closest to us being the most decomposed, while the one near the door at the opposite end of the room could have almost been still alive. I felt tears forming; it was almost as though the victims had been put on display. Whoever was responsible for this needed to be stopped, and we were going to make sure Bonus didn't suffer the same fate.

The disturbing nature of the corpses grew even before May began to magically examine them for the cause of death. It was difficult to tell with the first one, being that much more decomposed than the others, but the kidnapping victims all had something in common. Each and every one of them was a unicorn, a mare, and, perhaps most bizarrely, they all had white coats. Their manes were different colours, but it was evident that whoever was responsible had some kind of obsession. They also had matching scars on their breasts, right next to where their hearts would be.

May was examining each of the mares in turn with her magic. She had a pained look on her face, and seemed on the verge of throwing up. “This is unreal,” she proclaimed. “Every single one of them was stabbed in the exact same place, but there's no bloodstains anywhere on their coats, despite the proximity to their hearts. It's almost as though the wounds were cauterized from the inside.”

I only understood half of what May had said, but it still made me feel sick. However, I restrained myself, not wanting to desecrate the victims by vomiting here. May reached the last body, eyeing it oddly. Her horn lit up as she tried to examine it, then she let out a shriek as it began to move. The body of the victim from the week before began to move, almost as though May's magic had animated it. She backed away, her face going pale, which was not an easy thing for a ghoul.

The body rolled over onto its stomach, then proceeded to get it- her hooves under her, pushing herself into a standing position. Even from the other side of the room here I could see her dull, lifeless eyes. I might have thought her a zombie if she hadn't still had her mane, tail and coat. The unicorn mare's body cantered awkwardly towards May, who couldn't even seem to form a scream in her throat. Then I heard the 'pfft' of Gnarl's rifle, seeing the bullet pass through the mare's head, her body dropping to the floor, once again a lifeless corpse.

Without putting his rifle away, Gnarl trotted over to the mare's body, prodding it with a talon to make sure that it was going to stay dead. At the same time, I flew over to May and pulled her into a hug. She didn't cry, but she definitely looked hurt. She hugged me back briefly, but then pushed me away, standing up and turning on the spot, scanning the other bodies with her EFS. She appeared briefly relieved. Gnarl, having decided that the mare was indeed dead, slipped his rifle back over his back.

“That was the hostile mark,” claimed May, after having looked around in a full circle. “Bonus' tag is through there,” she noted, pointing at the door opposite the one we had come in through. “There's nopony else here.”

That struck me as odd; if the corpse was somehow the hostile entity, then who was the kidnapper? Had we gotten lucky and arrived while the culprit was out. Considering the previous instances, it wouldn't surprise me that whoever was responsible seemed to think he could get away without being followed. “Alright then,” I declared. “Look for a key to that door, then we'll-”

Before I could finish, I heard a click coming from the door. Turning on the spot, I saw Gnarl standing next to it, a screwdriver clutched in one talon and a bobby pin in the other. “What?” He said at our gawking; “You never seen someone pick a lock before?”

I facehoofed; that possibility had indeed never occurred to me before. “Alright then, let's go in and get Bonus. After we make sure she's safe, we can wait for the culprit to come back and take care of him once and for all.”

May, Rottingtail and I trotted up to the door behind Gnarl. With a a wave of my hoof, I motioned for him to open it. He did so, swinging it as wide as it would go.

***

For a moment, I thought that I was looking into a deep, dark abyss through that door. After taking a moment for my eyes to adjust, I could begin to see that was not the case. The room beyond the door was dark, with no windows letting light in, and only a few small specs of light coming from inside. Even with the door wide open, the light did not seem to want to enter the chamber, almost as if it was afraid of whatever darkness lay beyond. I gulped, then took a step inside.

Upon stepping inside, I felt my skin begin to crawl, almost as though there was lightning in the air. A cold shiver went down my spine for reasons I'm still not sure of. However, stepping inside also seemed to forcibly adjust my eyes, giving me a better view of the room. It was still pitch dark, but somehow I could see better from the inside. The floor was adorned with a bizarre magical array covered with glyphs and squiggles that resembled the ones chalked on the floor outside. Except that these ones had apparently been drawn in blood. Every so often, I could see a small glowing gemstone or candle within the array, providing the small points of light that I had seen from outside.

At the exact center of the array was Bonus Track. She was not bound in any way, and instead had her limbs sprawled to match the points of a six pointed star that was part of the mysterious array. Her eyes had a glazed look that I knew all too well as a symptom of dash inhalation; I reasoned that her assailant had drugged her. However, that was a secondary concern to the large sword floating in the air over her breast, suspended in a field of magical levitation. The sword itself seemed somehow sinister; made of a shimmering blue metal that I could not identify. It almost seemed that just looking at it chilled me to the bone. It was painfully obvious what was about to happen.

I was suddenly aware that the room was not silent. Ever since I had entered there had been a soft chanting going on that I hadn't full perceived until just now. It was quiet and foreign, but somehow I knew that it was bad. I looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the magic holding the sword over Bonus. I couldn't see anything, so I swivelled my ears, trying to find the muffled voice. Strangely, it seemed as though it was coming from throughout the entire room. I was deeply disturbed by the whole scene, but kept it suppressed out of concern for Bonus Track.

Then, the soft, incomprehensible chanting was suddenly replaced by speech that I could understand. It was still muffled, but I strained my ears, hoping to find its source. “Yes Mistress, I am sure that this time will be a success.”

There was no response, but it seemed as though there was still a part of the conversation I was missing. “I know that she is weak in body Mistress, but that was the mistake we made on all the others before.” The one speaking seemed completely oblivious to

Another brief moment of silence followed as the unseen and unheard second party apparently spoke again, before the voice I could hear spoke yet again. “Her body may be weak, but her soul is strong. I even used your mirror to examine it myself. As well, I have perfected the grafting method after the last one. I am entirely certain that this will work.”

My lazy eye rolled to the side, catching Gnarl moving forward and reaching into his cloak. I held a hoof out to stop him; one wrong move would get Bonus skewered. I just needed to pinpoint where that voice was. “You always said I was the best at cutting things, but now I need to put something back together. I know it hurts you to know that the others perished, but without Snails, I didn't have a proper guide. I had to learn how to do the rest myself. It may have taken a few attempts, but this time it will work. Just watch Mistress, you'll see.”

It was now or never. I stepped forward and called into the room; “Show yourself!”

***

There was a moment of pregnant silence as my voice seemed to echo inside the small, dark chamber. Then, something shimmered in the air in front of me. The hood of a cloak fell away from a head that almost looked like it was floating disembodied in the air. The shimmering progressed down the length of the cloak, which suddenly became visible. The head, the only part I could see clearly, belonged to a unicorn ghoul stallion. The clasp of his cloak bore a gem that much have been enchanted; the cloak could make him invisible! It was suddenly very clear how he had gone unnoticed for two months. Beside me, I could see May was visibly shocked at the appearance of the other ghoul; it would seem that the cloak also hid him from her EFS. The glow around his horn matched the magic surrounding the blade that was pointed at Bonus' chest.

“I'm terribly sorry,” he said. His voice was husky, even for a ghoul, but he spoke with the mannerisms of a gentlecolt. “I am in the middle of something of dire importance at the moment. I don't suppose your business can wait.” With the hood of the magical cloak down, his voice was no longer muffled. Strangely though, I found I couldn't smell him.

This ghoul was not feral, but probably a different kind of insane entirely. Unless there was another invisible pony somewhere in the room, he had been talking to himself. I felt conflicted; I wanted to stop him, but I couldn't act rashly, otherwise Bonus would be killed. Maybe if I could keep him talking, one of my companions could think of something. “Who were you talking to?”

“Why, my Mistress of course,” replied the ghoul. His voice seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn't place it. “I have been working for her even after our deaths. But soon, everything will be put right.” His ears perked as though he was hearing somepony talk to him. He turned his head and replied into his cloak; “No Mistress, I don't know who they are. Perhaps they have come to bear witness to your return.”

“Who is this Mistress of yours?” I asked, casting furtive glances to my companions. Unfortunately, they all seemed as uncertain as I was.

The ghoul stallion looked perplexed; “How can you not know my Mistress? She was the Mare of the Ministry of Image; everypony from before knew who she was.”

“Wait,” I stammered, “you mean Rarity?”

The ghoul stallion nodded, giving me a discomforting smile; “Indeed!” The glow around his horn flickered, and something wrapped in a field of magic floated out of his cloak. It was a pristine statuette of a gorgeous white unicorn with a purple mane and tail, with three gemstones for her cutie mark. The base of the statuette was engraved with the words 'Be Unwavering!'. My lazy eye again fell on Gnarl, and his expression told me that this was the very same statue he had been sent in search of.

“Where did you get that?” asked Gnarl, eyeing the statuette. I could see that he was thinking about how he could acquire it for himself.

“I found it after the megaspells,” replied the ghoul. I was glad for his talkativeness, but we still weren't making any progress. “I helped the Mistress create them, so perhaps I had some kind of connection. After the Mistress died in Canterlot, the fragment within this vessel called out to me. It took me so long to find her, but once I did, she told me what I must do.”

Wait, this pony thought that the statuette was Rarity? Wait, no; he kept saying that she had died. Then what exactly was he planning on doing with a statuette? I knew that Bonus' life was in danger, but I felt compelled to understand what had happened for the sake of the victims; “What did she tell you?”

“Look around you,” replied the ghoul, gesturing with a hoof. “Equestria has died along with my Mistress. What it needs more than anything is a beacon of hope; a shining light in the darkness. Somepony that can restore it to its former beauty. What better beacon than that of one of the greatest heroines of all pony kind? What better pony to restore beauty than the one who understood it best?”

Wait, he couldn't possibly mean... “Do you mean... bringing Rarity back from the dead?” I shuddered at the very notion of such a thing. Yet somehow, given the ritual array around me, it seemed like exactly what he was trying to accomplish. Bonus and the other mares were sacrifices for this unholy ritual. I was shook to my very core by the foulness of the idea. I was so sickened that I couldn't even empty my stomach.

I was only half right. “Mistress Rarity may be dead, but fragments of her soul linger, undying, contained within the vessels. I am partly responsible for her being in such a state, so it seems only fitting that I should be the one to try and correct it.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “The Mistress has survived on such a small fragment before, so all I needed was a suitable host for it.”

Before I could ask anything else (not that I was sure I wanted to), Gnarl snarled next to me; “Enough of this shit.” His talon disappeared into his cloak, drawing out his SMG. He quickly had it pointed at the ghoul stallion and opened fire.

As Gnarl drew out his weapon, the ghouls' horn flared with magic. He did not move, but the sword he had been holding over Bonus flew between the two of them with blinding speed. Just as Gnarl pulled the trigger, the sword began to spin in the air, moving so fast that it blurred into a solid disc. I ducked and threw my hooves over my head, fearing the ricochet. I heard the bullets clang against the whirling blade, but the sound was not followed by a ricochet. Rather, the sound to a number of small objects falling to the floor was all I heard. Only when Gnarl stopped firing did I dare to look.

With my gaze on the floor, I could see the bullets from the griffon's SMG. They had all been flattened, like they had run into a wall. My lazy eye rolled over to Gnarl, who looked dumbfounded. “...the hell?”

The ghoul unicorn held the sword out in front of him. “Remarkable, isn't it?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he glanced at the sword in front of him, apparently not concerned that he had just been shot at. “Mistress needed me to prove that I was strong enough to save her, so I did to myself what I did to her. I used this sword for the vessel; made it myself from the finest of metals. Appropriate for somepony who's special talent is cutting things, no?”

This ghoul was totally cracked, but now his sword was no longer floating over Bonus Track. Now we could deal with him without her being in immediate danger. As one might expect, everything went to hell right then and there.

***

May acted before I could even finish my thought process. Her horn flared up with magical light as a similar field enveloped the ghoul stallion's sword. Her blanket of telekinesis wrapped around his, presumably with the intent of disarming the ghoul. Then she started screaming. Her magic evaporated and she fell to the floor, clutching her head in obvious pain. I had no idea what to make of it other than to lay down next to her and lay a hoof across her shoulders. She shoved me away, tears streaming down her face as she screamed. I felt hurt and confused, having no knowledge of magic to fall back on. Rottingtail and Gnarl both looked furious.

The ghoul stallion's expression changed; “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I need to be able to concentrate on this undertaking and your friend's screaming is frustrating. Mistress Rarity would be appalled.”

However, we weren't about to leave, not a chance. Gnarl moved first, tossing aside his SMG and pulling out another small weapon. When he fired it, thin lines of red magical energy shot out, streaking through the air with a zorching sound. The ghoul didn't move at all, his sword instead flipping around in the air, into the path of each shot. As each shot struck the odd blue blade, it began to glow as the energy blasts heated the metal. If Gnarl kept that up, the sword would melt, and the ghoul would no longer be a threat.

Gnarl emptied the magical energy pistol, with the ghoul stallion blocking each shot deftly with his levitated blade. When it stopped moving, I could see that it was glowing red hot, the air around it sizzling with hear. However, the blade did not melt. The glow faded all too quickly, almost like the sword was consuming the magical energy. I was worried now; this sword was something else, and the way the ghoul wielded it was insane. I felt powerless, just like I had against Emerald and the Steel Rangers. Once again, my inability to help in a fight was going to get my friends killed.

Before Gnarl could do anything, the ghoul lashed out with the blade, bringing its impossibly sharp edge to bear on the Talon. The elder griffon had no room to manoeuvre in the small room, and was only able to stagger to the side. The blade missed piercing Gnarl's chest, instead running through his cloak along his side. The blade cut cleanly through the cloth, the combat armour underneath, and straight through his wing. The griffon howled in pain, falling to the side, clutching the stump where his wing had been severed. My lazy eye rolled over the griffon, but his severed wing wasn't bleeding, not even an ounce. The gash had been burned shut even as the sword passed through the flesh.

The sword hovered near the griffon's head, aiming to chop it clean off. The image of Gilda's head rolling away passed through my mind. Not this time! I kicked up Stronghoof's rifle, catching the rifle's bit in my mouth. Just as I was bringing the scope to my good eye, the blue steel of the strange sword passed in front of my sight. For the second time that night the gun was ripped from my mouth, this time as the ghoul's sword cut clean through the rifle and the strap at the same time. The two halves of the rifles clattered to the floor in a heap, the shot in the chamber spilling out of the tube onto the floor.

Before I could do anything else, I found myself staring down the blade of that strange, frightening sword, the tip less than an inch from my lazy eye. I was shaking, unable to process much of anything right now. My heart felt tight in my chest, even though it wasn't being attacked magically. A shot rang out from my left side; the familiar bang of Rottingtail's rifles. I yelped as the blade sliced through the air in front of me, the clang of the blade deflecting the shot resounding through the room.

I turned my head to look at Rottingtail, the barrel of his rifle still smoking. He clamped down hard on the bit of his battle saddle, firing off shot after shot in rapid succession. Despite the speed of his firing, the ghoul unicorn's blade moved far too quickly and fluidly. Each and every shot struck the blade, falling to the floor dead just like the round from Gnarl's SMG. Eventually, both of Rottingtail's rifles clicked on empty chambers. He hung his head, knowing that the speed of the ghoul's blade would cut him down before he could reload.

Rottingtail's head jerked up with remarkable speed; faster than I had ever seen him move before. His revolver was clutched in his teeth. The speed of his movement seemed to shock even the other ghoul stallion. Six shots rang out from Rottingtail's revolver almost fast enough to be perceived as simultaneous. Startled, the ghoul took a step back, his sword swinging into the path of the bullets as before. I only heard five clangs. The sixth sound was a sickening crack, followed by a 'thunk' as the sword fell, embedding itself in the floor.

Turning my gaze back to the unicorn ghoul stallion, I saw that the crack was from his horn. Rottingtail's last shot had struck home, shattering the appendage and embedding itself in the unicorns forehead. Without his horn, the unicorn's magic had imploded, dropping his sword. The ghoul staggered back a few paces, then fell over onto his side. Blood began to pool around his head, flowing steadily from the wound. As he fell, something small and round rolled out of his cloak, coming to a stop at my hooves. It was a mirror.

I stepped over the small mirror, approaching the dying ghoul. His breathing was shallow and vapid. “Why?” He asked, looking up at me. “This world needs somepony like Mistress Rarity.” He began to cry, his tears flowing into the ichorous pool of blood beneath his head. “Why couldn't I save her?”

Finally, things slowed down and the gears in my head clicked. This ghoul was somepony I had known, albeit only in passing. I remembered his name, and the name of the friend he had mentioned earlier. Snips and Snails; two young colts from Ponyville, close enough to have been brothers. At least, they had been. Once again, the war had twisted such wonderful ponies into shadows of their former selves. As so many times before, the cost had been dire.

“This is wrong Snips,” I said calmly, shaking my head. “Rarity wouldn't want this.”

“But,” protested Snips, “Rarity gave so much...” He began to go pale as he bled out; “She gave everything to try and save Equestria. She deserved the chance to try again. She could have made everything right...”

I shook my head again, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “It's okay Snips; I'm sure Rarity is waiting for you. Snails should be there too.” A small smile appeared on his muzzle, then his eyes glassed over, dead.

***

After closing Snips' eyes, I turned and looked at what had be come of my friends. Rottingtail was unharmed, and I could hear his battle saddle reloading from here. May had stopped screaming the moment Rottingtail had shot Snips, and had pulled herself up while I spoke to the dying unicorn ghoul. Her horn was glowing, a similar light around Gnarl's severed wing. She had out every single healing supply we had, and was trying to reattach it. She seemed to forget about what had happened to her when someone else was in dire shape, but I told myself I would ask her what had happened when she touched that bizarre sword with her magic. I never did get an answer.

I began to walk forward, and felt a cold shock as I stepped on something. Looking down, I saw the small, round mirror that Snips had been carrying. I withdrew my hoof, looking at my reflection. Only, it wasn't my reflection. I could see myself in the mirror, but I wasn't looking at myself as I was now. The me looking back from the mirror was me from nearly a hundred years prior, back when I still had skin... and hair. I had no idea what to make of the strange image, yet felt compelled to keep watching it.

As I looked into the mirror, the younger version of myself smiled broadly back at me. Then, somehow, she (I?) produced a sheet of bubble-wrap and began playfully popping the bubbles. For whatever reason, I was able to hear them in my head, along with the laughter of my former self. I looked back at my flank, marred by my decayed skin and lack of a coat. I found myself remembering the time when I got my cutie-mark, even though I had effectively lost it to my mutation. The memory made me smile, but when I turned back to look at the mirror again, the image of the younger me had faded. I was left with the reflection of my ghoulish self. Was I still the same pony as the one I had just seen, or was this the real me now? It was a strange sensation, but I turned away from the mirror, looking over at Bonus Track.

The albino mare was still spaced out on dash, reminding me that the drug lasted a lot longer on normal ponies than on ghouls. I started to trot towards her, looking to make sure she hadn't been harmed otherwise. Before I could reach her, I heard thunderous hoofsteps coming up the stairs. Stepping out of the strangely dark room, I saw a group of Stalliongrad guards, led by the captain from earlier. Apparently he had indeed felt comfortable coming in after us after he had a half dozen others with him.

The guard captain looked around at the corpses, then to me. “What happened here?”

***

After relaying the story of what had happened to the guards, My friends and I had spent the following two days recovering. May had managed to reattach Gnarl's wing, but there was some severe damage to the muscles and tendons. It would be some time before he could fly again, and even then he wouldn't be anywhere near as adept as he should have been. Rottingtail had helped the town guards bring back the bodies of the other victims Snips had claimed so they could be properly buried. I never found out for sure what he had been trying to do, but then again, I knew nothing of magic to begin with. Rottingtail buried him on his own, along with the sword, cloak, and mirror that had been his. As per our agreement, the statuette of Rarity was given to Gnarl so that he could complete his contract.

At present, all of us were sitting in the parlour of Stalliongrad Suites, Bonus Track once again telling us what had happened to her. “It was crazy! I was just about to check in when my window bursts open. I turn around but there's nopony there. I thought I just forgot to lock 'em, but then I see this funky glow and a dash inhaler appears in front of my face. I was so startled that I gasped, but that just sucked the stuff in before I could think about it and then I started tripping.”

I was pleased to see that her experiences had not dampened Bonus' enthusiasm. I'm not sure I would have held up as well in her place. As well, I could tell that my friends were not faring so well either. May hadn't told me anything about what had happened to her, aside from the sensation of touching Snips' sword with her magic being 'vile'. I suppose I couldn't understand it better than that anyways, knowing nothing of magic. Rottingtail had barely said a word since shooting the other ghoul stallion. I couldn't blame him; not even two days earlier he had been on a vendetta to avenge the death of a number of ghouls, and was suddenly put back in the position of having to kill an insane one. My friends and I really needed a break; these past two weeks had been more harrowing than the previous two decades.

“But anyways, I wanted to thank you guys again for coming to help me,” Bonus continued, oblivious to the more solemn moods of my friends and I. “Not only did you save my tail, but you put this whole abduction thing to rest. I'm gonna head back to Tenpony Tower soon and tell DJ P0N-3 about all you did, plus all the stuff about Trottingham and that flying ship thingy.” I managed to give her a smile; her mood was a little infectious.

We were interrupted by the arrival of Peaches. She wheeled her chair up next to our table, followed by a unicorn stallion that was in her employ. He was floating four plates of her (relatively) fresh salad, which he set down in front of each of us. Gnarl had passed when offered earlier; he had a preference for meat. “On the house,” Peaches claimed, waving the waiter away. She gave a sarcastic smirk; “Bonus still owes me for the room and food for the past couple days. Can't pay me if she's dead.”

Bonus actually looked mildly offended at that; “C'mon Peaches, these ghouls are heroes! They saved me and stopped that crazy kidnapper. Not to mention all the stuff they've been doin' to help other ghouls.”

Peaches scoffed; “Heroes huh? Want my advice?” I raised an eyebrow. “Retire while you have the chance. Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.”

It was May who spoke up next; “How can you say that?” she asked, looking at Peaches. “You used to be a heroine yourself.”

She did? I racked my brain, trying to remember if I had heard about her before. My lazy eye rolled down to her wheelchair, and it clicked. ...the pony you refer to as the 'Iron Mare' (Her name is Peaches by the way)... paralysed from the waist back for the rest of her life.

Peaches looked at May with an expression of weariness. “Yeah, I used to be the Iron Mare. It seemed like a good idea at the time, then this happened;” she gestured to her wheelchair. “Not only did I get myself messed up, but I inspired a whole bunch of kids to go out and get themselves killed. Gardenia, Ruby, Dandy Apple, Card Trick, Mashed Potatoes.” The Stalliongrad Seven, or at least, five of them. “Now Haypenny and Strider are gone too. Yet somehow, I'm still here.” Peaches voice was filled with regret.

“But,” I protested, chiming in, “the Stalliongrad Seven did a lot of good. They gave their lives trying to save good, innocent ponies.”

“Tell me then,” said Peaches wearily, addressing us ghouls. “You've been around since before Equestria was a wasteland; have things gotten any better?” I didn't have an answer. Peaches took my silence as the response she was looking for; “The wasteland chews heroes up and spits out their carcasses. Do some good and quit while you're ahead. Maybe you'll at least get some happiness out of it.”

With that, Peaches rolled her way out of the parlour, leaving us to eat in silence. Only Bonus Track seemed to have any hint of an appetite after that.

***

The following day, Gnarl got the okay from May to fly again. She had removed the bandages and brace from his wing, revealing a gruesome scar where it had been severed. Gnarl claimed it felt itchy, but otherwise fine. “Looks like one of us will be retiring,” claimed the ageing Talon, eyeing the scar. “Still, got the wife and three hatchlings to go back to, so it won't be too bad.”

“You really should rest longer,” May claimed, admonishing the griffon. “A wound like that-”

Gnarl cut her off; “Yeah yeah, severe trauma and all that. I've been a merc for over fifty years, I've had worse.” Obviously he was lying, but he seemed confident enough. “Besides, I'll be walking around town until I can find one of those radio robots to tell my contact I got what he was lookin' for.”

May nodded, seeming to begrudgingly accept that. “Just don't overdo it.”

Gnarl smirked and turned to depart from Stalliongrad Suites. Before he did however, he slung the silenced sniper rifle off his back. He turned back to me and laid the rifle at my hooves. “Almost forgot,” he said. He also fished around in his cloak for a case of ammo, which he set next to the gun. “You lost yours keepin' me from losing my head, so I figure I owe ya for it.”

I nodded slowly, taking a moment to process the gift. It hadn't occurred to me at the time, due to the other things going on, but the loss of Stronghoof's rifle had been a blow. I had been using that gun for a little over forty years, and it had been like another friend. Not only that, but I had felt the rifle carried a bit of Stronghoof's spirit with it. He had wanted to be a hero, like Big Macintosh, but had failed because of circumstances beyond his control. The fact that I kept using his rifle to help other ponies had been, in my mind at least, a way for him to rest easier in spite of his shortcomings. While the offering of a replacement was practical, I wondered if it wouldn't be a betrayal somehow.

I picked the rifle up in my teeth anyways, testing it. It was remarkably light, which would mean a lot softer kick than Stronghoof's old rifle. It was in good condition, and was, except perhaps in raw power, ultimately superior to my rifle. “Alright,” I said after setting the rifle back down, “but do you think you could do one thing for me?”

I told the griffon my request and he shrugged, picking up the rifle. He pulled out his magical energy pistol, firing a single shot at the shoulder brace of the sniper rifle, heating the metal. He slipped the pistol away and raised a single talon, carving two words into the stock of the gun. 'Stronghoof's Legacy'. He set the newly renamed rifle at my hooves again, then turned to depart from the hotel. I smiled, thankful for the favour. This way I could keep Stronghoof's desire to do good in the new rifle as well.

I picked up the rifle, dropping it quickly because it was still warm. After waiting a minute, I picked it up again and slung it over my back. Despite what Peaches said about heroes, I still had some determination left. I remembered seeing the image of my younger self smiling in Snips' mirror. Even if I could no longer go back to being that pony, I could certainly try my damnedest to make sure that others might have a chance at that kind of carefree life again. I didn't want to be a hero, I just wanted to do some good for as many ponies as I could.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul
Lucidity: Moderately-High

Ghoul Tip: Legacies and tragedies – Getting caught up in your past is a sure way to drive yourself crazy. Don't get hung up on the past, or you'll find your mind gets stuck there, leaving you with nothing for the present.

Interlude 3: The Growing Rift

Interlude 3: The Growing Rift

Lost.

Starting on the day of the apocalypse, everypony everywhere lost something. Their lives, their homes, their friends, family and even their hope. I lost almost all of that, in a way. I lost the life I had known before, becoming a rotten shadow of the pony I had been. I had lost the two cities I once called home, Cloudsdale and Ponyville. As for family and friends, I didn't really have any of the former, but the latter I had lost in droves. I could name them all, but the only ones you readers might know of are the Ministry Mares. Even though I was never within their inner circle, I counted them as friends, particularly Fluttershy. However, I had the offsetting benefit of gaining a few new friends in the time that followed.

May was now my oldest and dearest friend, with us having known each other since the day after the megaspells. We had spent more than a lifetime together, travelling through the wasteland that was once Equestria, trying to make a difference. We had both lost friends, and in her case a lover, but we tried to do what we could for what was left. However, she was gradually losing her hope. The destruction of Trottingham was the loss of her best hope at treating and possibly even curing the ghoul condition, and I couldn't begin to imagine the impact that had on her psyche.

Rottingtail, whom May and I had met in Trottingham, and who had been closer to me than May in a very different way. He had also suffered a great many losses. First it was his sister and brother-in-law, who he lost in the chaos that followed the megaspells. Then he had lost Apple Crumble, the nephew who had been left in his charge, that he had sworn and failed to protect. Lastly, he too lost the city of Trottingham, and all those who resided there. He had been among those who helped turn the city into the haven for ghouls that it had once been, and seeing it destroyed changed him, causing him to lose a part of himself, and his faith in other ponies.

There were others; many, many others. Blinkie Pie, who had lost her entire family to the war, and then was lost herself by the unforgiving march of time. Stronghoof, who had lost his wife, his son, and his hopes of creating a place of peace in the wasteland. Gizmo, who had lost his life, and with it the chance to turn a powerful force in the wasteland into something greater. Emerald, who had lost her parents, her home, her best friend and her innocence to the barbarism of the wasteland, and was forever scarred by it, transformed into a twisted, dark reflection of herself. Snips, who had lost his beloved mistress Rarity, and then his mind attempting to regain that which can never be brought back. So many others. At least Bright and her followers seem to have made it safely to their destination, as I never did hear of them again.

Then, there's me. What have I lost? I had no family left by the time the war started, so I had nopony to lose there. I had several friends who were alive during the war, who, in all likelihood, perished on the day of the megaspell holocaust. However, it had been over a hundred years since that day, and the pain of that lost had long since been resolved. I had two homes, Ponyville and Cloudsdale. The latter I lost in the very first megaspell attack, narrowly avoiding the loss of my very life. The former I had lost in the years since to the wasteland itself. Again though, those losses had been many years ago, and the hurt had since diminished.

However, there was one thing I had lost that I was feeling more than any other; the lack of it becoming a constant companion. My very equinity. Like any other ghoul, my coat, my skin, my mane, my voice and my cutie mark had all been lost to the necrosis brought about by the extreme radiation exposure. At times I felt like a monster; I certainly look like one. I didn't age, I didn't need to eat, sleep or drink, and, though the prospect had always been sparse anyways, I could never have a child.

Now, you might think that all of that is physical, and that the true nature of my equinity was my mind. So long as I still have that, I'm just another pony right? Sadly, even that was lost to me, in a certain respect. I would have never claimed to be innocent, not with a war going on. I had managed to avoid getting any blood on my hooves at least, with the war going on largely on foreign turf. However, the wasteland forced me into a struggle in the land I call home, and... how many have I killed now? I can't say, which is sadly the reason why I feel that small part of myself is also lost.

What did I have left? Well, there's a small part of me that hopes for my soul. I hadn't really thought about it a lot in the past, but ever since my encounter with Snips, I had it on my mind. He had spoken of souls as some part of his mad experiment, and then there had been my reflection in that mirror of his. The old me, unchanged from when I was younger, smiling, laughing, playing with bubblewrap. A part of me I really want to believe is still in there somewhere, safe from the ravages the Wasteland has subjected the rest of me to.

As bad as all of this sounds, it is only the beginning of my losses. They say time heals all wounds, and I thought that the losses I had thusly suffered would eventually be left behind me as I pressed forward. In short order, I would come to know how much more there was still left for me to lose.

Chapter 13: The Undying

Chapter 13: The Undying

“The Future. Survival anywhere. We surpass the norm.”

Manehattan.

I still remember the first time May and I came to the big city, only about a week or so after the megaspells had destroyed Equestria. Back then, the only thing standing had been the former hub of the Ministry of Arcane Science. That name had been lost to time, and I had since learned that the building had come to be known as 'Tenpony Tower'. Now, like back then, ghouls were disallowed from entering the tower. Whether this was based on a long standing safety protocol or just a dislike of our kind I wasn't sure. I tended to suspect the latter, considering that the place seemed to have become the new home of hoity-toity-ness in the Equestrian Wasteland.

Still, it wasn't all bad. In the more than a century since the apocalypse, the radiation had faded enough to allow ponies to start living in the city again. The exception was the areas closest to the impact crater, although there were rumours that ghouls liked to live there. Unfortunately, most of the settlements in the Manehattan ruins were slums. The ponies subsist off of dirty water, scavenged hundred and twenty year old food and, more often than I'd approve of, meat from the mutated animals. It wasn't a great life, but really, where in the wasteland was?

Presently, May and I were returning to the city for the first time since that venture here more than a hundred years prior. For Rottingtail, this was his first time ever coming to the city. He claimed he'd never come in the days before the war because he didn't care for the clamour of the big city. Not much in the way of clamour here anymore. Although, frankly, there really much wasn't Rottingtail cared for anymore, except perhaps May and I.

“Ah still don't see why we had t'come all the way back to Manehattan,” Rottingtail griped as we walked.

“I told you,” retorted May, “Manehattan is likely the best place to find a colony of civilized ghouls.”

Even though she never really stopped searching, May's hope of finding a cure for ghouls had died off significantly since the destruction of Trottingham. She wanted to return to the very place that she became a ghoul, in order to try and divine some kind of solution. I felt for her, and for all the other suffering ghouls out there, but at this point I would have been satisfied with finding a cure for the mental degradation by itself. Tragedies like that of Snips needed to be prevented.

Then again, was being a ghoul really so bad? The smell can be gotten used to. There's no need for food, drink or sleep. You'd be surprised how much you can get done when you don't spend all your time trying to scrounging for the basic necessities of survival. Of course, I'm not really fooling anypony. I would give just about anything to feel like a proper equine again.

Of course that brings up the question of what makes a proper equine. What makes one pony better than another? It's a difficult question, and there's no definite answer. I like to think that the truest essence of a pony is their heart and soul. I still had those of course, but lacking so much else, I never really felt... whole.

After a while, I couldn't stand May and Rottingtail's bickering anymore, so I landed between them and tried to strike up a new topic of conversation. “So, where are we heading first?” I asked, looking to May.

She responded by stopping a moment to lift her Pipbuck; “There are a lot of small communities that cropped up inside the city limits. We just need to find the nearest one to ask for directions.”

“T'where?” interjected Rottingtail. “Frankly Ah wouldn't mind just headin' straight to the megaspell crater. Ah could use a nice rad-soak.”

May sighs; “I could too, but we're not here just for our own sake.”

I nod my agreement; “We're here to try and help other ghouls, but it won't be any good to them if we don't also help out the regular ponies and set a better example.”

“Ah don't see why not,” snorts Rottingtail. “Don't matter how nice we are, any smoothcoat out there is just as likely to shoot us, sane or not.”

As much as I hated to admit it, Rottingtail was kind of right. Even with good ponies like DJ P0N-3 trying to set other ponies straight on our behalf, there were far too many who just couldn't be bothered to differentiate between us and our insane kin. If only there were a way to make them see what it was like for us. To make them understand our plight. Of course, the only real way to do that is to become a ghoul, and I wouldn't wish that on anypony.

***

Without anything else to talk about as we walked, I prompted May to switch on the radio. The voice of the current DJ P0N-3, a middle aged sounding stallion, greeted us. This stallion, whose name I hadn't learned, was the successor to Bonus Track. The albino mare from Stalliongrad had become the latest to bear the mantle shortly after bringing in the story of the abductions. Unfortunately she had passed away two years prior from heart failure. May had been right about her weaker constitution eventually being her downfall.

“Once again that was Sweetie Belle singing the one great truth of the wasteland. Now it's time for a DJ P0N-3 survival tip. Remember that as summer gets closer, so does bloodwing mating season. When that time comes, you do NOT want to be caught outside at night. Make sure you got someplace to stay with four walls and a roof, preferably free of any holes. A lone bloodwing may not be tough, but they always travel in ridiculously large swarms.”

Of course, bloodwings didn't care much for ghouls. They prefer fresher food. May gave me a look that told me she was thinking exactly the same thing. Still, they're a hassle when riled up anyways, so we knew to take care regardless.

“While we're on the subject of survival, I want to remind everypony out there about the dangers of radiation. This is a common problem everywhere in the wasteland. The worst pockets of it are the places where megaspells detonated, like the Manehattan City Center or the Fillydelphia crater, but don't think that you're safe just because the ground ain't glowing underneath your feet. A radiation detector is the only way to be sure, so if you don't have one, play it safe.

“Worse still is that magical radiation is all too readily absorbed by food and water, and then passes into the body of whoever eats or drinks it. Always drink clean water whenever you can. Best way to get it is gathering a supply when it rains or using a condensation cleaner. If you take these precautions, you can avoid some ugly fates: deformities, death, and worst of all, depending on who you ask, ghoulification. This is DJ P0N-3 wishing all you ponies out there good luck.”

I stopped, feeling the need to do a double take. Normally the line of DJ P0N-3's was a lot more supportive of ghouls. That was downright insulting. Then again, hadn't I just been bemoaning my fate as a ghoul? Maybe I was reading too much into it. I looked to May as another song begins to play, but she was wearing an expression of mild shock as well.

“Did that DJ just say what Ah think he said?” asked Rottingtail, giving voice to our collective thoughts. “And here ah was thinkin' he was one of the last good smoothcoats out there.”

“I'm sure he didn't mean it like that,” I protested.

May seemed inclined to take the middle ground; “I suppose not every DJ is going to think about things exactly the same way.”

Rottingtail snorted in response; “Or he's just takin' up the popular opinion of us. He is an entertainer after all; can't be seen as unpopular.”

I sighed; here we go again. I really hated having to step between my best friend and my... bedfellow to break up their little squabbles. “Listen, if anything he's probably being pressured to downplay ghouls by the other ponies in the tower. It's not like he said we were crazy or evil or anything.”

***

Night was falling, and we still hadn't had any luck finding a settlement. Though May prided herself on knowledge of the city's layout, that really didn't help when most of the streets were empty and the buildings vacant or demolished. Her Pipbuck's auto-map was equally unhelpful for the same reasons. In short... we were lost. The settlements that had cropped up in the Manehattan ruins were few and far between, punctuated by the occasional nest of raiders of beasts that we took care to avoid. The best we had been able to manage was to continue in the general direction of the megaspell crater.

In the end, the three of us decided to hole up in the lobby of an old apartment building for the night. While we didn't actually need to sleep, we were somewhat achy from wandering through the city all day, and could use some time off our hooves. Considering that any settlement we did find would be asleep at this time anyways, we figured it was as good a time as any.

Rather than sleeping though, Rottingtail and I decided to make use of this down time to briefly indulge ourselves. We made use of one of the first floor hotel rooms, while May opted to stay in the lobby and keep watch. It wasn't exactly restful, but it was enjoyable and helped to take the edge off Rottingtail's demeanour. Once we had finished, we just laid there, keeping close and trying to relax a bit. Naturally, the ever awful wasteland wasn't about to just let us.

A scream from somewhere outside the hotel jolted the two of us to attention. Hoofsteps coming down the hall were followed by the door swinging open to admit May, who looked panicked. “Trouble outside, come on!”

Without hesitating, Rottingtail and I got out of the bed and scrambled for our gear. All I had to do was slip Stronghoof's Legacy over my back, after which I deigned to help Rottingtail back into his armour and battle saddle. As I moved out of the room, he stopped to grab his sheriff's badge and stetson. He had never given those up, keeping them as reminders of his perceived failings back at Trottingham even forty years after the fact.

Outside, the screaming and yelling had been joined by the sound of gunfire and the unmistakable screech of a swarm of bloodwings. As soon as I was out the door I took to the air and whipped my rifle off my back. After a quick flight, I found the struggle two blocks over. At least a dozen bloodwings were frantically scurrying through the air around a small wagon. I raised the scope of Stronghoof's Legacy for a closer look, and saw two desiccated husks. One was a brahmin that had been pulling the cart, the other was a pony that was unrecognizable for having been drained dry by the mutated bat.

Without waiting for my companions, I trained the scope of my rifle on the nearest bloodwing. Damn things were all over the place, so even if one got out of the way, another would take the hit. I tongued the trigger. Pfft. Though not as strong as my old rifle, Stronghoof's Legacy still packed enough punch to drop one of the leathery monstrosities with one shot. I was glad for that, as I only have five shots before I would need to reload, and any time I wasn't shooting was time that somepony else in that group down there might have become a meal.

Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.

Four shots, four dead bloodwings. Best of all, the suppressor on the rifle combined with the natural quietness of flight allowed me to go entirely unnoticed by the swarm, particularly when the much louder gunfire of those being attacked was thrown into the mix. Said gunfire had managed to drop another three of the swarm, leaving six more that I could make out clearly. Sadly the wasteland loves its cruel ironies, and those shooting below had to stop and reload at the exact same moment I did.

I hurried to eject the magazine from the sniper rifle and quickly slot in a fresh one, not bothering to catch the emptied one as it fell. Just as I was bringing the scope to my eye, a scream of torment told me that another bloodwing had found its mark. My next shot rang out just as fresh ones joined the fray. My gaze was pulled down to the street as Rottingtail galloped forward, his mouth clamped down hard on the bit of his battle saddle. May followed behind him at a distance. She had lost Gizmo's old pistol back in Trottingham, and hadn't deigned to pick up another weapon since.

Rottingtail's rifles tore the feeding bloodwing from its victim forcibly as the creature's leathery hide was pulped. Between his arrival, my sharpshooting and the freshly reloaded gunner on the ground, we made short work of the remaining members of the swarm. Without bothering to reload, I slipped my rifle away and landed next to Rottingtail. I head his battle saddle clicking as it reloaded, while May ran past us, floating medical supplies out to aid the wounded caravan ponies. The sound of a shotgun blast and May's scream followed.

“Hey!” roared Rottingtail, stepping forward and placing himself between May and the shooter. “We just fuckin' saved yer asses!”

I hurriedly trotted over to May. She was hunched forward, her left front leg peppered with buckshot. Black, ichorous blood oozed from the numerous small wounds. I quickly grabbed one of the potions she had floated out and forced it down her throat; “It's alright!” I called to the caravan, “we're here to help.”

To my dismay, two armed and armoured ponies stepped forward. One was an earth pony with two assault rifles mounted on a saddle, and the other was a unicorn floating a pump-action twelve-gauge. “Stay the fuck back!” called the earth pony. He looked to his companion; “Fuck, if it ain't bloodwings trying to eat us, it's Celestia damned zombies.”

“Fuck you,” snorted Rottingtail. “Is this the thanks we get fer keepin' ya'll from gettin' fed on?”

The unicorn guard stepped up and cocked his shotgun. “Yeah, so you could have what was left as a meal for yourselves.” He levelled the weapon right at Rottingtail's head.

I was tempted to draw my rifle to even the field, but it wasn't loaded and I'd probably get shot for the effort; “We're not zombies,” I protested. “We came here to help when we heard screaming.”

The two guards seemed unconvinced as they looked between us and the three ponies that had been guarding. One of them was attempting to treat the one that had been partially drained by the bloodwing Rottingtail had shot loose. The third stepped forward alongside the guards; “What are you waiting for?” he demanded, sounding to have the air of a Tenpony citizen. “Dispose of those foul cretins so we can be on our way.”

Rottingtail glared at the other two armed ponies. “Ya'll don't want our help, fine, but next time ya'll are gettin' eaten, Ah'm just gonna laugh.”

“I don't think so,” said the unicorn guard with the shotgun. “Last thing this city needs is a couple of well armed zombies causing shit.”

“Yeah well Ah'll drop muh guns when Ah'm good'n dead,” Rottingtail retorted without stepping back.

“That's the idea.”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” This new voice carried with it a preverberation that I had heard only once before. My lazy eye rolled around, drawn to the light of a glowing ghoul trotting slowly towards the rest of us. He was flanked by three other ghouls, two of which, like him, were earth ponies, while the last was a unicorn. They were all armed save the glowing one.

“Fuck,” called the earth pony guard, “they got backup.”

“No,” stated the glowing one calmly, “we just happened to be in the neighbourhood and didn't like the sound of our well meaning kin being shot up. If you've got any brains left, I suggest you leave. Radiation poisoning is not a pleasant death.”

The guards look between each other with worry before hurriedly loading the other ponies into the cart. I saw that the injured pony had stopped breathing. I felt a pang of regret mixed with pity, as May's medical skills surely could have saved her. The two guards dislodged the brahmin corpse from the wagon and hitched themselves in, turning the cart and running in the direction opposite the glowing ghoul.

With the regular ponies vacated, the glowing ghoul trotted towards May, Rottingtail and I along with his armed entourage. The wave of warmth that flowed from the radioactive ghoul was pleasant as it washed over me. May stood up, the radiation coupled with the healing potion I had fed her giving her the strength to stand again. The glowing ghoul stopped a few feet away and just stood there, smiling at us.

I smiled back, looking appreciative. “Thank you,” I said, nodding once. “That could have been really messy.”

“Think nothing of it,” replied the glowing ghoul in that strange, echoing voice. “I try my best to look out for those who, like me, have been marked by magical radiation. You may call me Apex.”

***

May, Rottingtail and I, grateful to Apex for coming to our aid, decided to follow him back to where he had come from. He knew the streets of the city as well as May and, better yet, knew where the newer settlements were. One in particular, had been founded by him along with a few other ghouls. He has established a small shanty town near the border of the Megaspell crater, where the radiation acted as a natural deterrent against unwanted company. As much as I didn't like the idea of ghouls having to cut themselves off from other ponies, the sad truth was made quite clear by that caravan.

“So,” continued Apex, who had spent much of our walk doing the talking, “I founded Craterside with the intention of creating something like what used to exist in Trottingham. A little slice of the Wasteland that ghouls could have all for themselves.”

I let out a sigh; Trottingham was still a painful memory, and a glance at Rottingtail told me he felt a pang of regret at its mention. He still very much considered it a personal failure. “How big is your little town now?”

“Four hundred or so,” replied Apex, looking back with a soft smile. The radiation coming off his body made us very comfortable around him, despite only having just met. “Most of our residents come from other parts of the city for a little security and the company of fellow ghouls. We actually had to do some expanding recently.”

Rottingtail trotted further forward with a question of his own; “How do ya'll know this little town of yers is proper safe? Ah used to think Trottingham was secure, till it got blown to hell by Steel Rangers.”

Apex seemed unfazed. “Aside from the natural barrier of radiation, we keep ourselves armed. However, out biggest defence is a low profile. We don't have anything that anypony else wants or needs, so they don't have any reason to come and take it from us.”

“But how do you trade with other ponies?” I ask. My old mercantile instincts thought that not having anything anypony wanted was just wrong.

Apex actually stopped and turned to look back at the three of us; “We don't.” He states simply. “To be honest, I wasn't expecting the three of you to be quite so naive, considering all you've been through.”

“What do you mean?” queried May.

Apex looks between the three of us, gesturing to each of us in turn as he spoke. “From what you've told me about yourselves, I thought you'd understand. Ghouls and regular ponies simply cannot co-exist.”

That was an unpleasant thought. “What do you mean?” I protested; “Ponies need each other. Friendship and co-operation are two of the last good things we still have.”

Apex just shakes his head; “The desire for companionship is something I understand; I spent a lot of time alone out in the wastes myself. However, our fellow ghouls are all the company we truly need. 'Normal' ponies don't want our company, nor do we need theirs.”

Despite his pleasant demeanour, I couldn't help but frown at Apex's words. As much as there was a lot of animosity towards ghouls, there were still a lot of good ponies out there who saw us as what we truly were: ponies like everyone else. Granted, our physical mutations set us apart, but on the inside, our hearts and souls, the things that truly mattered, were the same as they ever were. Apex's mindset, though perhaps beneficial to some and maybe all of the ghouls in his charge, would only serve to increase the friction between them and the rest of the pony population.

May raises the next objection; “Surely you can't get along entirely isolated, can you?”

Apex actually smirks at that; “I see no reason why not. We have the advantage of not needing many of the things that other ponies struggle and fight over. Food and water? We do not need them any more. A safe place to sleep? Safety we have, even if sleep is not among our needs. Medical supplies? Proximity to the crater and the presence of other glowing ones like myself is more than sufficient in all but the most severe cases.”

“What about yer ordinance?” questioned Rottingtail. “Bullets don't magically regenerate, even if we do.”

Apex shakes his head; “We have plenty of able scavengers, and of course there are always places to look. As I have said, we do not need any further contact with 'normal' ponies. As it is, we have surpassed them. We can live longer and on less, and many parts of the wasteland that are lethal to them, we can trot into with our heads held high. Unless by some miracle the land suddenly becomes fertile again, regular ponies are only prolonging the inevitable. We are the future, where they have none.”

***

May and I quickly decided that we did not like Apex. His dogma, while true in some respects, was grounded on ideas that we simply could not accept. May had dedicated her life to helping ponies both before and after the war, and the idea of estranging from them was abhorrent to her. Equally so to me, as the idea to only look after ourselves was quite simply unappealing. I wasn't going to give up on my hope that Equestria might yet return to a place where all ponies can live freely.

Rottingtail on the other hoof seemed to have a more neutral opinion of the glowing ghoul. He had grown continually less fond of normal ponies since the death of his nephew and the razing of Trottingham. However, the look in his eyes told me he was struggling not to be taken in by Apex's way of thinking. Like he still wanted to believe in the kind of hope that May and I had. However, in spite of our personal dislike, the fact of the matter remained that Apex had saved our lives and offered us shelter. We would take him up on that offer, at least for a little while.

Craterside itself was quite similar to what we had back in Trottingham. Scrap metal, single story shanties made up most of the town, forming homes for the ghouls living here. However, even as we trotted away from Apex, our proximity to the crater kept us feeling warm and irradiated. This close to the crater, the glow made it look like early morning, even though it was still the middle of the night. I also spotted at least two other glowing ones on the side of the town facing the crater. They always seemed to be rather popular amongst the ghoul folk.

Unlike back in Trottingham though, there were a few things missing from what you would normally see in a growing town like this. There was no 'Craterside Supplies' or the like, and the majority of ghouls here didn't even bother to carry bottle caps. Not much use for currency or a shop if you never trade. As well, there was no inn of any sort, adding to the feel of this place being inhospitable to anypony who wasn't a ghoul. Lastly, there was no constabulary or sheriff's office or the like. The only ponies who seemed to be armed at all times were Apex's entourage.

The three of us decided to get closer to the crater to bask in the radiation for a while. It was quite refreshing, much like basking in a steam room would be for a normal pony. While enjoyable, none of us stayed for too long. We did not want to end up as glowing ones ourselves, as we still wished to make good with regular ponies. The relaxing radiation bath was also a good way to settle our minds after the unfortunate discussion with Apex.

Satisfied with our soak, the three of us trotted away from the crater side and back into... Craterside. Though we knew the town was small and still growing, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that something else was off about it. Aside from the glowing ones near the crater, and Apex's entourage when we arrived, I hadn't seen anypony but the three of us. Considering Apex's talk about ghouls not needing sleep, it seemed somewhat ironic that night was when they chose to stay inside. Then again... bloodwings.

The three of us trotted back to a slightly larger shanty about halfway between the crater and the edge of town. I knocked on the door with a hoof, and was met with its opening a moment later. Another ghoul looked out at me through the partially opened door; “Yes?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you,” I said, nodding my head apologetically, “but the three of us are new in town, and we haven't a place of our own to stay.”

The ghoul looked inside, then back at us; “Sorry, but these shanties are only built for two or three, and we're full up in here. Apex typically has everypony put up their own place shortly after they get here.”

I nod once; “Is there a place we can stay?”

“Well,” noted the ghoul, “You could just start putting up your own place. If you really need to take a break before you do though, there's a common house about two streets over.”

“Thanks,” I said, offering the ghoul a smile. He didn't return it. He closed the door as I turned away and told May and Rottingtail what he had said. What I didn't tell them was that, in spite of the politeness of his tone, I had gotten that sense of something being off as he spoke. It was the same feeling that permeated the entire town, but I still couldn't put a hoof on what it was.

***

The Common House the ghoul had told us of was much larger than the rest of the shanties, although that stood to reason. However, upon entering, the place struck me as, much like the outside, empty. This was not entirely the case though, as a door off to the side opened, admitting a ghoul from an office-like room.

The ghoul, an earth pony mare, took notice of our arrival and trotted towards us. “Hey there,” she said cheerfully, eliciting a smile from me.

I stepped forward once again; “Hi, my name is Ditzy Doo. My companions are Rottingtail and May Cure,” I noted, gesturing to each of them in turn. They said their greetings as well.

“Name's Dusty,” replied the ghoul. “Haven't seen you around, which tells me you're new in town.”

I nodded; “We just arrived less than an hour ago. Apex got us out of a tight spot and brought us here. We took a bask in the crater for a bit, then a townspony directed us here.”

Dusty nods; “That tends to be the story for a lot of folks around here. Whether Apex leads them here or they wander in on their own, most ghouls here were looking to get away from the rest of the wasteland.”

“What about you?” I asked curiously.

“I came here through Apex,” she replied with a smile. “He and his entourage saved me from a swarm of bloodwings, although they were too late to save my companions. After that, I wanted to repay him, so I helped build this common house and offered to help acclimate newcomers to their new home.”

I felt the need to inform her; “Well, we haven't decided how long we're going to stay yet.”

Dusty looked perplexed; “Stay? You mean you didn't come to live here?” She seemed dumbfounded as I shook me head. “Why in Celestia's name would you want to leave? We got everything we could ever need, right here.”

My lazy rolled back to glance at May and Rottingtail. The former rolled her eyes, while the latter seemed curious. “Apex said something similar,” I noted, “although he was a bit more intense about it.”

Dusty chuckled at that; “Yeah, Apex doesn't really like normal ponies at all. Thinks they're beneath him. However, he does make a good case for this place. A nice, safe, secure little sanctuary for us ghoul kind. Granted, not all normal ponies are the way Apex says they are, but a good deal of them are, sadly.”

Rottingtail snorted bitterly; “That's the same reason I founded Trottingham, and look how that turned out.”

Dusty looked surprised; “You're from Trottingham? I thought that place was entirely wiped out by the Rangers forty years ago. Didn't hear of any survivors.”

May shook her head; “Wiped out yes, but there were survivors. All of them except the three of us departed Equestria along with Bright Light and her followers on the Renewal.”

Dusty blinked. “Oh!” she exclaimed; “I heard about that on the radio. That big black pre-war airship that flew off from Stalliongrad. Didn't know it was full of ghouls though.”

The three of us spent the rest of the night sharing stories of our wasteland experiences with Dusty. She had a fair share of her own tales to tell in return. It does kind of follow that, when you spend a hundred and twenty years wandering a blighted wasteland, you get up to quite a bit. However, I noticed that she tended to steer the conversation towards Apex fairly often. Did she have a crush, or was I just leaning into things too much? At least it was better than that niggling feeling I had been getting since we arrived.

***

Morning rolled around just as my friends and I were concluding the story of what had happened in Stalliongrad after the departure of Bright and her followers. Dusty had been enthralled the entire time, although I have to admit her story about the manticore was pretty amusing. However, as much as we were enjoying our time here so far, our intentions to depart had not yet been changed. Dusty seemed disappointed, but they was she spoke suggested she figured we'd be back.

“So, if you really want to try your lucky with normal ponies,” Dusty explained, “there's a settlement not too far from here called Hovelhoof. It's pretty small, a hundred ponies at most. It's a piss poor town, and they always seem to be low on everything. A bit of charity towards them might be just what the doctor ordered.”

I smiled at that. Our travels through the city the day before had yielded some scavenged food and medical supplies that we had been hoping to use for just that purpose. “Thanks,” I said earnestly, “I'm sorry we're leaving so soon, but we might be back.”

“Especially if this goes to shit,” snorts Rottingtail.

Ignoring him, May spoke up. “Who knows? If we do manage to establish a rapport with this settlement, it could mean good things for Craterside as well.”

Dusty actually grimaced, which looked odd on her. “Actually, I would appreciate it if you could leave Craterside out of this. Apex knows the value of a low profile, and I'd prefer to keep it that way until he says otherwise.”

I frowned, disappointed. Still, Dusty had a point. This was Apex's town, and it wasn't out place to go advertising it, even if it was naturally protected. “Alright, we won't,” I promised. “Now, which was was it to Hovelhoof?”

May held out her Pipbuck, bringing up her map of the local area. Dusty seemed impressed by the device, but it faded quickly as she scanned the map and marked the location of Hovelhoof on it. “One more thing,” she noted, looking back up at me. “I'd advise travelling over land to get there. The elevated tracks are covered with sleeping bloodwings, and the sewers are full of the forsaken.”

“The forsaken?” enquired May before I could raise the same question.

Dusty sighed and looked grim; “The ones who couldn't be saved.” With a look from the three of us, Dusty caught on that we didn't understand. “The ghouls who lost their minds.”

“Oh,” exclaimed May, “you mean the ferals.”

Dusty visibly winces at that title; “Yes, although I never really liked calling them that. Makes them sound like wild animals that need to be put down.”

May looked abashed; “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. If it's any consolation, we've had the unfortunate task of putting down fer- forsaken in the past.” Even Rottingtail managed to look sympathetic this time.

I nodded solemnly; “Alright, so we'll stick to the ground. Thanks for the advice.”

Dusty perked up again; “No problem. Don't be strangers though; I'd love to see you again and swap some more stories.”

With that, the three of us departed from the Craterside Common House. Now that we finally knew where we were intending to go, getting underway was a bit of a relief. Whether or not we would actually return to Craterside was a question for later.

***

That question was answered as soon as we reached the settlement of Hovelhoof. It had taken us a little over an hour to reach the other shanty-town, but our arrival was met by... nothing. Even from a short distance away, I could see no movement between the shacks that comprised the town. May confirmed this when her EFS came up blank. May and I were instantly concerned, while Rottingtail suspected foul play.

“I don't understand,” said May, trotting into the edge of the settlement. “Why would Dusty send us here when the place is a ghost town?”

I pondered that for a moment; “Do we know how long she's been staying at Craterside? Maybe this place was abandoned since the last time she saw it.”

“Ain't neither o'that,” called out Rottingtail from a few shanties away, “C'mere.”

May and I quickly fell in with Rottingtail, and gasped at the sight he showed us. Stuck between two of the scrap metal shacks was the emaciated corpse of a pony. It's flesh was dried out and hollow looking, leaving only a husk of a cadaver. Bloodwings had attacked the town, or so it seemed. Looking around the town, we found another dozen corpses with exactly the same appearance, their shrivelled up forms painfully indicative of the cause of death.

However, once again I got the feeling of something being off. Dusty had claimed the town to have around a hundred ponies living in it, but there were nowhere near that number of dead. Not to mention the fact that there didn't seem to be a single dead bloodwing amongst the bodies, despite signs of a struggle. There were empty bullet casings and shotgun shells all over the place.

Before I could raise these concerns, May exclaimed; “I've got one! This way!”

Without waiting for us, or explaining what she meant, May ran off towards the far end of the town. Rottingtail and I quickly galloped after her. She stopped right at the edge of the line of shacks and stared intently at the last house on the row. It occurred to me then that she must have picked up a signal on her EFS that had either been faint or out of range before. She looked back to me, then rushed inside.

The inside of the shack was trashed, and looked like it had been the site of a fight. A table was overturned, a small chair had been broken and there were splinters of glass and wood everywhere. Something crunched under my hoof, which I lifted to see yet another empty bullet casing. I was beginning to suspect it had been raiders that had hit the town, rather than bloodwings.

May called us over when she found the source of her signal. It was a single stallion, laying on his back with a gaping wound through his shoulder. He was panting and sweating, struggling to breathe. “Hang on sir,” May called, trying to get his attention focused on her. She floated out some of the healing supplies she had handy.

The stallion seemed unable to focus properly, and began to shy away from May; “The tunnels,” he groaned, still sounding delirious, “c-came out of the tunnels.”

“Forget the tunnels,” Barked May, trying to get a healing potion to the pony's muzzle. The stallion was shuddering violently, and spilled half of the potion as May tried to force it down his throat.

May grunted in irritation as she floated out another healing potion to try and give to the buck. His shuddering was only growing more violent, and he was casting his eyes around in a paranoid panic. With a single, violent shudder he flipped himself over and forcibly expelled what had to be the entire contents of his stomach. His eyes rolled back and he heaved on last time before falling still. May screamed in frustration and threw the potion bottle against the wall.

I placed a hoof on May's shoulder, intending to provide some comfort, but she shoved me aside and flared up her horn, wrapping the stallion in a magical glow. She stared at him intensely, then backed away, a look of disgust apparent on her face. “That wound didn't kill him,” she snorted angrily. “He was in the advanced stages of acute radiation poisoning.”

I cringed; that was not a pleasant way to go. “What happened?” I asked.

May just shook her head; “I don't know, but he said something came out of the sewers...”

I scrunched up my face trying to think through this; “Dusty warned us that the sewers were fully of ferals; do you think it could have been a glowing one with them?”

“That don't explain all the fightin' an' bloodwing corpses,” interjected Rottingtail. “Somethin' else is goin' on here; this just doesn't add up.”

“Well we're going to find out what,” barked May, turning and storming out of shack. Rottingtail and I hastily followed her. That niggling sensation was back, worse than it was before.

***

The sewer entrance near Hovelhoof was easy to find, given that there were a bunch of tracks in the ash leading back there. Along with them were the trails of what looked like ponies being dragged off. Feral ghouls was starting to look like the answer, although if that was the case their behaviour was somewhat unusual. I'd never known a feral to drag a meal off somewhere else for later, and the lack of ghoul corpses back in Hovelhoof was also bizarre.

The entrance itself was different from the ponyhole covers we had gone through in Trottingham to reach its sewer system. This looked like an access hatched designed specifically to allow maintenance workers inside. A wrought iron gate hung mangled and off its hinges, looking like it had been smashed through by a stampede. May's pipbuck was reacting to trace amounts of radiation.

Inside the entrance way, right next to a ladder leading down into the tunnels, was an old, worn map of the sewer systems. May hastily downloaded it into her Pipbuck, although most of it was beyond recognition. “Shit,” exclaimed May, “these tunnels lead right back to Craterside.” She looked back to the two of us; “We need to nip this problem in the bud. If this is the work of unnaturally aggressive ferals, then we need to make sure they don't hurt anypony else.”

I nodded firmly and slipped Stronghoof's legacy off my back, loading and priming it. Rottingtail kicked his saddle, which started loading, while he plucked out his revolver and tossed it to May; “I know it ain't as fancy as that gun you used t'have,” Rottingtail noted, “but she should do fine with that fancy Pipbuck aiming spell thingy.” He also tossed her a case of bullets to reload with.

May caught the gun and bullets in her telekinesis and nodded firmly; “Right, let's go.”

Our descent into the Manehattan sewers brought up memories of Trottingham, nearly eighty years prior. As it was, the expansive sewer tunnels were almost identical to those of the other city. I couldn't help but wonder if they were designed by the same pony. Unlike the Trottingam sewers however, there was no light left on down here. Possibly because whatever backups provided power after the megaspells had burnt out since. Mercifully, we had May's horn and Pipbuck available to shed some light in the pitch-black tunnel.

The trip through the tunnel was quiet save for the trickling of dirty, radioactive water beneath our hooves. The going was painfully slow, both due to lack of light and May's need to keep stopping and checking her Pipbuck when we came across an intersection in the pipes. I was at least glad there was enough room for me to get off the ground, since it would keep me out of reach of any ferals. While May and Rottingtail were still grounded, I could at least cover them better this way.

My concerns about covering my friends turned out to be eerily unnecessary; the dark, dank sewer tunnels were completely empty. At least of anything save for a few radroaches. Not wanting to draw any attention we weren't prepared for, we had avoided shooting at them or even stamping on them. They seemed just as content to leave us alone. The emptiness of the tunnels was just making my anxiety worse; what if the ferals we suspected to be responsible for this were out there ransacking another town?

The answer that came was something I had dreaded, but had refused to even consider until I saw it. The first thing we found in the tunnel that wasn't a radroach was a ghoul, but it was not a feral one. In fact, it was one I recognized immediately as one of the ones that had been accompanying Apex when he scared off the ponies who we had saved from bloodwings.

Said ghoul was armed, and was bringing up the rear of a caged in wagon. The wagon was being drawn through the sewer tunnels by another pair of ghouls I was unfamiliar with. They were both armed as well. However, what set me off was the contents of the wagon itself: Ponies. There was at least a dozen frightened looking, non-ghoul ponies huddled together in the caged wagon, including a pair of foals who were huddling against a mare I assumed to be their mother.

“What the fuck!?” shouted May, charging forward. Rottingtail followed after her as quickly as he could, but was again slowed by his bad leg.

I was tempted to follow them, but May was a much better speaker than I was. Plus, I hadn't been seen yet, and if things got ugly, I would be able to cover them better from where I was. I really hoped it didn't come to that though. My hopes were dashed as the wagon stopped and all three of the ghouls pulling it drew their weapons. The two in front trotted around to the rear of the wagon to join the third that had been following them.

“That's close enough,” barked the ghoul who had been in the rear. “Who are y- wait, you two were there last night.”

May didn't take the derailment; “I said, what the fuck is going on here?” she demanded. “Who are those ponies and where are you taking them?”

The ghouls there didn't seem inclined to talk about it. “None of your concern,” replied the ghoul who had been with Apex. “These ponies-”

As the ghoul spoke, my lazy eye rolled aside, catching the other two. Both were priming their weapons while the other one held May and Rottingtail's attention. They weren't planning on just letting us leave. As much as I wanted to wait and find out what was really going on, I had to make a snap decision. I raised the scope to my good eye and tongued the trigger. The shot punched cleanly and quietly through the head of the ghoul to the left. As he fell, the surprise of the other two gave Rottingtail the opportunity to open fire, downing them quickly.

I expected May to be upset about my hasty actions, but instead she trotted over to the front of the wagon. She used Rottingtail revolver to shoot the lock off the cage and pulled it open. She set the gun aside as she jumped up into the wagon. The ponies on board shied away from her, but she didn't get any closer. She simply repeated her question; “What is going on?”

The ponies seemed frightened of May. To be honest, I was a little too. She wasn't normally this aggressive. However, one of them eventually piped up; “They came into Hovelhoof through the sewers,” noted an earth pony stallion. “Rounded us up, threw us in here and brought us down here. The others were further ahead; we don't know what they were doing.”

May looked at them sternly; “Can you get back out on your own?” she asked. A few of them nodded weakly in response, although they seemed to just be trying to not anger the ghoul unicorn with the revolver further. “Good,” May said with a huff before jumping down from the wagon. She motioned for Rottingtail and I to follow her.

“What-” I began to say, but May cut me off.

“I am sick and tired of this shit,” she said forcibly. “Everywhere I go to try and help, somepony else is fucking shit up. I don't care what it is these ghouls were doing with those other ponies, we're ending it. Right. Now.”

***

May sped forward through the tunnels faster than I had ever seen her move before. She was like a mare possessed, and it was all Rottingtail could do to keep up with her. I could have done so more easily, but I didn't want to leave the old sheriff by himself, so I positioned myself midway between them. I was admittedly worried about May. This was not the way she normally acted. I strained my lazy eye so that I could keep both of them on her, just in case.

We eventually hit a dead end in the sewers, where the tunnel had collapsed so badly that there was no way to progress. However, we were close enough to the megaspell crater that I could feel the trace amounts of radiation that bled through the collapsed concrete and steel. May directed us to a room off to the side that looked like it was a maintenance access. She tried the door, only to find it locked. A terminal was hooked into the wall next to it.

While May attempted to work the terminal, I swooped in and landed in front of the door. There was a small, narrow window of tinted glass that I looked through, trying to see what was going on. Inside, the room looked more like a small bunker. Three more caged wagons took up most of the space therein, each filled with a number of ponies that had to be the rest of the population of Hovelhoof. Rolling around, my lazy eye caught a few more armed ghouls, two of whom I recognized as belonging to Apex's entourage. Worse still, the back corners of the room were occupied by a pair of glowing ones, filling the room with radiation that the caged ponies were desperately shying away from.

Then I looked to the front of the room and gasped. Apex himself was there, standing on a small raised platform. I could see his muzzle moving; he was obviously addressing the ponies in the room, but I couldn't hear what he was saying for the door. I heard a bleep from beside me as May cracked the terminal, and a hiss as the door started to open.

As the door opened, I caught some of Apex's words: “...living in a slum, fearing you may never see food or clean water again. I have brought you here to free you from that need. I am here to give you a future. I am here to grant you the gift of the undying!”

The door was sliding open painfully slowly, its tracks rusty and damaged. Before the door was even halfway open, I was forced to watch as he threw a lever, and the wall of the room behind him pulled back. I was nearly blinded as the glow of the crater flooded into the room from behind the wall. I was forced to look away, wincing painfully. That radiation, coupled with the trio of glowing ones, could kill the non-ghoul ponies in there within minutes.

I tried to rush into the room, but was immediately drawn up short by a pair of armed ghouls, both of whom had their weapons on me in a moment. Even with the radiation flooding the room, my regeneration wasn't going to help if I got my head blown off. I was forced to skid to a halt. Apex, his speech apparently over and done with, noticed my entrance. He gave an unsettling smirk and trotted around the cages towards me. The ponies inside were starting to scream.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” I screamed at Apex as he trotted towards me.

He maintained that smirk and spoke annoyingly calmly. “I am giving these ponies a gift. Is that not obvious?”

“You're going to get them killed!” I shouted, struggling against the urge to do something reckless.

“Perhaps,” says Apex, still annoyingly calm, “but those who do not survive the anointment are simply not worthy of the gift of the undying anyways.”

“Think about what you're doing!” I pleaded, but Apex shook his head.

“I have thought about it,” he said firmly, “and I even explained much of it to you and your friends already. There is no future for ponykind. By giving ponies the gift of the undying, I am creating a new future. A better future.”

“You're a monster!” I snarled, now actively looking for an opportunity to put a bullet in his head.

May took the opportunity first. A trio of shots rang out, all three of which impacted the glowing ghoul in the chest. Startled by the gunfire, the ghouls holding me in place scrambled to find the attacker. Rottingtail barrelled through, gunning two of them down while May fired her remaining three shots into the head of the third.

Just as I was bringing my rifle to bear, May shot past me to stand directly over the fallen Apex. As she reached him, he stood back up, the combination of his own glow and the intense crater radiation allowing him to recover amazingly fast from the trio of gunshots. As he stood up, May pointed her gun squarely between his eyes, glaring down at him with a stare that could have put Fluttershy to shame.

“All this time,” she growls, “all this time I've spent trying to help ghouls, trying to find a cure, a fix, a way to make things better. What in the fuck makes you think-”

Apex cut her off, still rather collected considering her had been shot and was staring down a gun barrel. “Why in Equestria would you want to fix us? We are not a disease, we are the future of pony kind. We can survive where no other ponies can. We don't need to struggle and fight and die pointlessly, we-”

Apex was silenced by May emptying Rottingtail's revolver into his head. Apex was no Canterlot ghoul; he would not be getting back up from that. He hit the floor hard, his blood oozing away from the pulp that used to be his head. Even the normally black and ichorous blood of a ghoul glowed with the radiation that saturated his every cell. Before anypony else could make a move, Rottingtail and I finished off the last of Apex's thugs.

***

By the time May managed to scrambled over to the controls and shut the thick door that sealed the room, half the ponies that had been in the caged wagons were dead. Acute radiation poisoning all of them, and the rapid rate of exposure had made saving them impossible. Those who hadn't died already were suffering one of two fates. They were fading fast, or they were showing the early signs of ghoulification. Not in the habit of carrying decent quantities of RadAway, May was forced to gamble on who to distribute them to. By the end of the day, all but a dozen of them had perished. Only three of those managed to avoid ghoulification.

May and I released the survivors, showing them the path back to Hovelhoof along with the other wagon we had managed to save. Unsurprisingly, those who had suffered ghoulification were bitter to us, even though we had done our best to save them. We were just more ghouls to them, and I found myself unable to blame them. They would never recover from this, and they needed somepony to blame. We were all too convenient.

May, Rottingtail were sitting at the edge of Craterside. Right now, we were the only armed ghouls in the town. All the rest had been a part of Apex's entourage. I had been saddened to learn after the dust had settled that Dusty was one of the ghouls I had shot. I couldn't help but wonder if she had sent us to Hovelhoof on purpose to see what Apex was doing, and whether or not she had played a part in it. I sighed painfully, knowing I would never get an answer.

As the three of us sat quietly on the outskirts of Craterside, May suddenly stood up and turned to face the two of us. “That's it,” she declared.

Having no idea what she was talking about, I had to ask; “What's it?”

May had exchanged her expressions of anger, frustration and sadness for one of brutal determination. “I've had it with being unable to do anything.”

“What are you talking about?” May was starting to scare me a little. She had been acting strange ever since Hovelhoof.

“I mean it's finally time to find the solution to the ghoul problem once and for all.” May was breathing heavily. “There's been too much suffering by ghouls, for ghouls and because of ghouls. It needs to end.”

Rottingtail and I exchanged looks; “May, what-”

“And I finally know how to do it too. I'm going to fix the ghoul problem the same way it started. With a Megaspell.”

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Ghoul, Highly irradiated.
Lucidity: Low

Ghoul Tip: ...

Author's Note: I am really sorry it took so long to get this to you guys. There were a lot of extenuating circumstances. Hopefully I'll be able to get things back on track now.

Chapter 15: Monsters

Chapter 15: Monsters

“Better Wiped than Striped.”

Beast.

I would not be the first pony to describe the wasteland as a monstrous beast, nor do I imagine I would be the last. One mare in particular thought of it as an insatiable, gaping maw. I find that the fate of Equestria is not that different from the unfortunate one that befalls my feral ilk. A lifeless husk that mindlessly destroys what is around it simply because it does not know how to do anything else anymore. It is a horrific fate that I would not wish upon anypony. Even more so because I had to watch it happen to my best friend.

***

May continued to sob wretchedly at her failure. I couldn't help but cry along with her, looking over my regenerated hide and knowing that she had come so painfully close, only to trip at the finish line. As I held May, my thoughts turned to what little I knew about our condition. It was a complicated state of being, and May understood it better than anypony. If she had been unable to unravel the truth to undoing the condition, then what hope did I have? The thought only brought more bitterness to my tears, knowing that I could offer no real consolation to my best friend as she wept so wretchedly.

I don't know how much time passed as we sat there and held each other, crying and sniffling. Time has a different feel to it when you can live for hundreds of years, and loses some of its meaning. Eventually, May released me from her grasp, only to sink to the floor, looking more defeated than I had ever seen her. I wished for something to say, something to ease her pain, but no words came. I knew I was disappointed at not being truly cured, so her own sadness could only be many times worse.

“Where did I go wrong?” came May's voice, coarser than ever, her throat cracked from abuse by her sobbing. I had no answer for her. “What could I have missed?” she continued, as though asking aloud might spark some long overdue revelation.

I had no answers for May. My complete lack of understanding of magic, left me without anything to contribute. I could only hang my head and sigh.

May didn't move as she continued to mutter. “Could I have... no. What if... no. Maybe a... no!” She growled in frustration and smashed her hooves against the floor. Her futile rage hurt her hooves more than the cement, their enamel splintering.

I winced. Sadness turning to anger was never a good thing. I had to coax her back down somehow, keep her focused. She had been so close, surely she could manage something with a bit more effort.

“May... um...” I fumbled with my words, but she glanced at me. At least I had caught her attention. “I know I don't know anything about magic, but what if we found another unicorn? Someone else who might be able to assist you better than I can?”

May shook her head, “Ditzy, you're my best friend. Nopony could replace you.”

I blinked at the response, then waved a hoof, “No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant, y'know, in addition to me.”

May sighed once more, “Where could we possibly find anypony qualified to lend aid on such a complicated magical undertaking? This is the sort of thing that entire ministry departments would be dedicated to. I don't know why I ever thought I could do it myself.”

The word 'ministry' clicked with me and I thought of something. “Bright Light.” May blinked as I mentioned the name. Perhaps she still remembered? “The glowing unicorn ghoul with the airship,” I noted to be sure, “she used to work for the Ministry of Magic.”

May let out an exasperated groan, “The one pony in the wasteland who might be able to help and we have no idea where she is.” She rolled over onto her back kicking her hind legs in frustration.

I raised a hoof in objection, “She flew off in a big airship. Surely some people would know which way she went.”

May snorted, “Ditzy, that was forty years ago! She could be anywhere in the world by now! Not to mention the fact that anypony who did see her is probably long dead.”

I winced, once again reminded of my poor comprehension of time. I sighed. The best suggestion I could come up with dashed before it even spread its wings. I slumped down to the floor and grumbled, “Okay, so there's nopony else who can help us... what if... no... how about... no. Grah!” I was getting nowhere.

May sighed and rolled onto her side facing away from me, “Maybe it was a given that this whole thing would fail... Maybe we're supposed be stuck like this. Maybe being ghouls is our punishment for bringing the world to the state it's in now. Maybe we're supposed to watch as what's left slowly falls apart...”

I frowned. That kind of attitude wasn't good for anyone, least of all a ghoul. If I didn't find some way to comfort May or get her thinking positively again... I didn't want to contemplate that possibility. “May, the world's state isn't our fault. It isn't anyone's fault, really. At least, not anyone that's alive today. However, those of us that are alive today can still do something.”

May didn't move, “Like what?” she mumbled.

“Um...” I tried to think of something, “Well, you know balefire radiation like the back of your hoof. You could-”

May's ear flicked up, “What did you say?”

I blinked, then repeated, “You know balefire-”

I was cut off as May sat up abruptly. “That's it! Ditzy, you're a genius!”

All I could do was blink in surprise, “Um... I don't think I'd be named Ditzy if I was a genius.” Not the most flattering self appraisal, but I couldn't really think of any other response in my confusion.

May stood up and shook her head, “No, you really are. You figured out the missing piece!”

I tilted my head, looking thoroughly confused, “How did I do that?”

May smirks, “Balefire. Specifically, balefire bombs, the zebra megaspell weapons. When I tried to cast the spell, I was basing all of my work on the idea that magical radiation was the same no matter where it came from. Which, based on what I had seen working for the MoP, held true.”

I nodded slowly, but kept my mouth shut, waiting for May to tie all this together into something that made sense to me. Some genius I was, considering how much more quickly her mind was working. I shook my head to clear out the self-depreciation in order to focus on what May was actually saying. “So... is balefire different somehow?”

May nodded, “Not so much the balefire itself, but the form it was stored in. Unicorns cast spells, and all of our magical artifacts and technology are based around that. All my experiences with the MoP were working with other unicorns. Zebras aren't unicorns!”

The obviousness of that statement was obvious, but I was beginning to get an inkling of what she was getting at. “So... because zebras do, or did, magic differently, the magical radiation from their megaspells would be different as well?”

May stamped a hoof firmly. “That has to be it. It's the only thing I never thought to consider or look into.” May's voice quivered as she spoke, desperately wanting to believe her own new theory.

I nodded slowly, wanting to believe it too for her sake. “So... there is a megaspell crater nearby, right? Is there any way you can get the information you need from there?”

May shook her head, “Wouldn't tell me anything I don't already know. What I really need is an unused source of balefire.” She chuckles a bit morbidly, “If we knew any dragons, we could get some of their breath and then I could try to find the spell to weaponize it myself. If they didn't just roast or eat us first.”

I spoke up, trying to help once more, “Alright, so let's go find a zebra and have them make some for us instead.” It seemed simple really, at least in my head. They made the balefire bombs in the first place, so if we could find another one-

May stamped a hoof and snorted, interrupting my train of thought. “Out of the question. They would have been wiped out by Equestria's megaspell counter attack. Even if they weren't, the odds of actually finding one that actually has enough alchemical knowledge to produce a fresh balefire weapon... it's just not gonna happen.”

I was mildly shocked. I knew May wasn't fond of zebras, but I had always guessed, even with a counter attack from Equestria, that some of them would have survived just like ponies did. She did have a point about scarcity though. “What's the plan then?” May had always been the one with the plan, so I really hoped she had some idea of how to follow through on this new theory.

May looked like the gears in her head were turning rapidly. She blinked a couple times, then facehoofed. “Probably one of the worst ideas I've had yet,” she said with a bit of a groan. “Unfortunately, it's probably the only one that might work.”

I had a feeling I knew what she was about to suggest. “So when do we leave?”

May rolled her eyes at me. “You haven't even heard me out yet. This is probably the craziest, most dangerous thing I'll ever do. I have no idea what we might encounter or what effects Equestria's counterspelling might have done to the place. The actual odds of find-”

I raised a hoof to May's muzzle to shut her up. “I've stuck with you this long May, I have no intention of going anywhere else.”

May smiled. She seemed at least slightly reassured, but was still obviously nervous. “We're as close to the Zebra Nation as we can get here in Equestria, but we'll still have to pass through no-mare's land in between.”

I raised a hoof to my chin, the partially restored flesh feeling a little weird after being blotchy for so long. I tried to recall some wartime history; “The battle here was the furthest into Equestria the zebras ever came by land, right?”

May nodded in affirmation, “Yes. Most of the war was fought on their home turf, and quite frankly we were on the verge of winning the war entirely before they decided to blow up the world.”

I frowned a bit at that. She made it out as though it was a simple case of sore losing. I wasn't really up to snuff on politics, but I was certain there had to be more to it than that. Of course, the whole thing was entirely moot now. Their decisions had led to our destruction and ours to theirs. We had all made mistakes, and now all those of us who were left could do was try to pick up the pieces. Like May and I were trying to do now, in our own way.

***

May and I emerged from the bunker, and had to stop a moment, shielding our eyes from even the filtered sunlight. We had been down in that facility for at least a few days, our eyes adjusted quite thoroughly to its dim interior. It was honestly a little difficult to tell how long exactly we'd been down there, given my numbed sense of time awareness. Fresher air breezed against my face as we stepped back outside, which was actually kind of nice. Even though I was still a ghoul on the inside, the sensation of wind blowing against my no longer blotched skin was very refreshing. I decided that I would enjoy it while I could to further ignite my hopes for a permanent cure.

A thought crossed my mind just then. May and I were both in excess of a hundred and fifty years old now. If we were to be cured of our ghoul affliction, what would we look like? Was it possible that, given our age, a true and proper cure could be lethal? Granted, sometimes ponies could live a really long life under good conditions. Granny Smith of the Apple Family had been well over a hundred before she passed on. However, that was in peacetime, and in a clean Equestria. Now, normal ponies tended to be lucky if they lived much past forty.

In the time it took me to run through that series of notions, May had shut the door to the facility behind us and closed the uplifted hatch on top. She trotted up to me and looked around. She glanced down at the Pipbuck on her foreleg. Sometimes I forgot she had it. “It's been three days since we landed here,” she informed me.

Looking to take advantage of May's superior knowledge on the subject, I decided to point out my concerns to her. “Hey May,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “once you finish that curing spell, what happens to us?”

May blinked, then tilted her head, “Um... presumably we'd go around and teach other unicorns the spell, then once we have enough who know it, we can form a megaspell casting matrix and cure large numbers of ghouls at a time.”

While that was a good thing to know, I kicked myself mentally for not being more specific. “I mean, physically speaking. Will we be the same age we were physically before mutating? Or will we age more rapidly?”

May pondered that a moment. “I suppose I can't say for sure,” she admitted, “but I would theorize that the regenerative aspect of the ghoul mutation also halts conventional ageing. Like... our cells are necrotic, but they are also in a sort of biological stasis. It's not perfect, so they do degenerate over time, some faster than others, which is why feralism tends to affect every ghoul differently. If I manage to finish the cure, my best guess is that we'd physically be a few years older, a decade at most.”

I nodded. I would still rather be an old pony with only a few good years left than live forever with the threat of feralism hanging over my head. Although if that did end up being the case, I would feel worse about the wasteland losing a good doctor like May. Those with medical knowledge and training were in extremely short supply compared to the number of ponies who needed them. Which was everypony really.

With my momentary curiosity sated, I turned my attention back to the task we had set for ourselves. I had to regain my bearings a little, and began walking back towards where we had parked the cart. “So,” I said, starting up a fresh conversation, “if we're gonna do this, where should we look?”

May began to follow alongside me as she answered, “Well, the one useful thing about zebra magic, relatively speaking, is that once its put into a phylactery of some sort, it tends to last indefinitely unless it's deliberately destroyed or used up.” She also noted, “Stronger magic requires stronger containers, so if there are any unused balefire bombs or missiles, they would likely still be around if they weren't already detonated.”

I nodded. I had to admit to myself that it felt a little strange that my companion knew so much about these destructive weapons, only to remind myself that she had, in fact, played a hoof in inventing them. Back when they weren't actually tools of destruction. As that thought passed over my mind, I stopped, looking to May. “This is where...” I paused a moment, unsure of how to say it, “the first megaspell test took place.”

May stopped as well, looking around. She nodded solemnly. “Yes, it was. Back then... back then, when Fluttershy first introduced the idea to the Ministry of Peace, it was so... radical. No one had ever thought on that scale before for magic, except perhaps the Princesses moving objects as large as the Sun and Moon.”

May continued as I listened intently. “When we started working on the megaspell project, we had all sorts of idea for its application. The ability to heal everypony on the battlefield all at once, shielding an entire city from harm, mass teleportation spells making battlefield logistics so much easier.” She looks around at the blighted landscape around us and hung her head. “We never wanted this.”

I sighed, not really having anything to say. May still had a habit of holding herself personally responsible for failures beyond her ability to control. Especially where the Ministry of Peace was concerned. I gently placed a hoof on her shoulder.

May met my hoof with one of her own. “C.A.R.E.” she stated. “Communally Assured Reciprocal Existence. It's what Fluttershy originally dubbed the project. With healing spells able to fix any injury no matter how grievous, shield spells capable of repelling any attack, and teleportation spells capable of advancing or retreating armies in the blink of an eye, the whole idea was to end the war. With all of those things factored together, the zebras would have had no choice but to surrender, or come back to the table of diplomacy.”

I patted May's hoof. “The zebras were there that first day too though. They saw what you could do, and there were those among them who twisted the idea into something unconditionally deadly.”

May frowned, “They did, but that's not the whole of it.” She sighed and brushed my hoof away. “It was Fluttershy who gave the zebras our work on megaspells.”

I blinked. “So that's what you meant when you said the zebras poisoned her gift.”

May nodded. “Literally. Fluttershy couldn't have known what the zebras would do with it; she was too kind to even think of that possibility. Those of us working on the project should have tried to stop her. Of course, she was the head of a Ministry, and there weren't many of us willing to challenge her. Not even me. After that though, we had no choice but to respond in kind for the sake of keeping the playing field level.”

May lowered her head and looked down the hill. She was now staring at No-Mare's Land. The vast sea of cratered and trench scarred earth between Equestria and the zebra nation. I couldn't even remember if it had a proper name anymore. Our next stop on our quest to try and make things right. Wasn't that, in essence, what Fluttershy and May had been trying to do here so long ago? Everyone had a different idea about the nature of doing the right thing.

***

May and I returned to the caged cart we had flown here in. She stepped in first, taking my rifle and saddlebags with her. I hitched myself back up to the front of the cart and took off, flying out over No-Mare's Land. Looking down as I flew towards the zebra nation I felt a chill, knowing that so many ponies and zebras alike had died down there in the pair of battles fought for the ridge. It was the closest the zebras had come to successfully penetrating Equestria, and now it was just one big graveyard.

When flying over the devastation of the wasteland, it was easy enough to remove myself from it by staring forward and focusing on my destination. However, the weight of everything that had happened sat heavily on my shoulders and kept my gaze focused downwards. So much death and destruction and pain. I felt a few tears roll down my muzzle and fall onto the ruin of the battlefield. If only Fluttershy's plan had kept to its original form, maybe this could have all been avoided...

As we passed over the far side of No-Mare's Land, I noticed that the edge of the zebra nation was not all that different. Once I had flown over the trenches on the zebra side, I was officially in their country. It was so... barren. I was used to seeing the Equestrian Wasteland in ruin, but this was something else. Everywhere I could see from where I now hovered was scorched, and there were huge puddles of water that looked out of place so far inland. It hadn't rained over the past couple days, so where did they come from? I continued flying into the zebra lands, my curiosity increasing.

Where Equestria had vast forests and jungles and mountain ranges and plains, the zebra lands were remarkably static. Almost nothing but flat, dry land, except for a jungle to the far east that bordered on Equestria. The same jungle that had passed over Crescent Moon Canyon, the site of Luna's school at Littlehorn. There were hardly any trees, and any that were still standing were shrivelled, black, and dead. The rest of the land's flatness was occasionally broken up by large rock formations, equally scorched, or ruins that might have once been towns. It was actually hard to tell the difference between those two possibilities in the current state of the land.

I looked back over my shoulder to May, who was again trying to keep from noticing that she was flying. “What happened here?” I asked.

May stood up and took a quick glance downward, immediately blanching before seating herself again. “If I had to guess, I'd say Celestia One.”

I raised a curious eyebrow, “What's that?”

May sighed and looked upwards, “Our response to the zebra's weaponized Megaspells. Or, one of them at least. It was housed in the Manehattan MAS Hub, and basically turned sunlight into a giant heat ray. Before the pegasi threw up their cloud cover, it was used to strike back after Manehattan was destroyed.”

I looked down with a mix of horror and awe. The zebras had hit Equestria with numerous balefire bombs, and yet with a single spell, we ponies had been as devastating in return, if not more so. As I continued flying over the ruined zebra nation, an important thought crossed my mind. “How are we going to find a balefire bomb?”

May shrugged, “I don't know, but we need to find one if I'm to have any chance of filling in the missing piece of my spell. The best I can think of is to look for some sort of military base.”

“Would there be any along the coast?” I asked. “I read about a few big battles during the war taking place at sea.”

“Doubtful,” May replied almost immediately. “If Celestia One could do this to the land, then it could have just as easily boiled the ocean and anything on or near it.”

I nodded. That was one idea out, but at least she sounded more sure of herself when it came to that. That begged the question of where we might find a zebra military facility. I kept my good eye locked on the terrain below, but all I could see was untempered devastation. My bad eye rolled around absently, not really registering much.

I decided to suspend my search briefly and put the wagon down for a little while. I wanted to join May in the back, knowing she was almost certainly going through more than I could understand. The best I could offer was a bit of closeness and conversation. “Do you think any zebras survived?” I asked May, hoping to keep her talking. I got nervous when she was quiet for long periods of time.

“I certainly hope not,” she scowled in response. “Those monsters deserved to be wiped out for destroying Equestria.”

I winced. That was harsh, especially for May. I knew she hated zebras, but to pin her hopes on their indiscriminate genocide... I had to speak up. “Not all of them deserved it,” I replied with a frown. “I imagine our soldiers were seen as monsters by those on their side.”

May snorted. “Maybe, but they are the ones who started the war, they are the ones that massacred a bunch of foals at Littlehorn, and they are the ones who decided to destroy Equestria and so many of the innocent ponies living there when they launched the first Megaspells. All we did was give them the response they deserved.” May was visibly fuming by the end of her little tirade.

I sighed and frowned. Everything May said was true, but I just couldn't understand why she wouldn't let go of her hatred for them. “Even if they did all of that, any zebras alive today would have had nothing to do with it. Just like ponies born nowadays had nothing to do with the war, or the Ministries, or any of it!” I was getting mad myself, which I didn't like. Yet at the same time, I felt I had to get through to May on this.

May groaned and shook her head, “Don't you get it Ditzy? These are the- the things that took everything away from me! My hopes for peace, my desire to help ponies, my family, my marefriend, everything! All because of them. You didn't have any family that lived to see the horrors of war! You have no idea what I had to suffer through! You just-”

SMACK

Before I fully realized I had done it, I had struck May hard across the face with a hoof. I was seething, and my eyes were full of tears. They began to stream down my rejuvenated skin, making it itchy. May's words hurt, but not as much as seeing a mare I knew genuinely cared about other people turn so angry, so hate filled. “Stop it!” I threw my hooves around her and sobbed. “P-please May! Just... st-stop!”

I don't know if it was my crying or the slap to her face that had snapped May out of it, but I felt her hooves wrap around me and her tears trickle down my shoulder. “Ditzy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's just... being here, where all of this happened... so many old wounds opening at once...”

May trailed off as I just pulled her closer and tighter. It was times like these that sometimes it was just better not to say anything more.

***

After spending a while just hugging and crying, May let go of me and I slipped out of the back of the caged wagon, returning to the harness. Before I could strap myself in however, my lazy eye rolled, and I swore I saw something move. I turned to focus my good eye in that direction, slipping Stronghoof's Legacy off my back and bringing it to bear. I didn't raise it up to eye level just yet; it might just have been a mirage.

Then, I saw it again. Except it wasn't anything. It was an ever so subtle ripple in the air, like you would see coming off a space heater. Then it was gone again. I hadn't actually seen anything other than that ripple, and yet I was on edge for some reason. So sure that there was something there. I kept my rifle out until I got back to the harness. I slipped it away and reattached myself to the harness.

“What was that about?” called May from behind me.

“I thought I saw something,” I replied honestly, “but it might have just been my eye playing tricks.”

May just nodded and laid her head back down. I supposed she couldn't really offer any more insight than I had myself. She had never crossed into zebra lands before, and her hatred of their kind most likely kept her from doing any in-depth research into their lands or culture. It was times like these that reminded me May was a good two decades younger than me. Most of her life had been lived during the war, while most of mine, prior to the wasteland of course, had been during peacetime. I really couldn't imagine the kind of difference that would make, although May served as a fitting example.

I took off, bringing the two of us back into the air to resume our search for a balefire bomb. It still sounded so surreal, and yet May was right about it being her best chance to find what she was missing for her ghoul curing spell. At least, I hoped she was right. I flew back and forth over stretch after stretch of zebra land, travelling further and further into their borders as the day wore on. As the sun began to set, all I could see was more and more of the same barren wastes. It chilled me to think that May actually might have been right about the zebras being wiped out, but so far I hadn't seen even a hint of any occupied settlements or survivors.

As night approached I started looking for a place to set us down. I wouldn't have minded overnight flying back in Equestria, but this was unfamiliar territory. I wanted to be able to see where I was going and what I was looking for. My lazy eye rolled about and, in the dimming light, caught what looked like a collection of ruined buildings near a small lake. Considering the arid nature of the nation as a whole, it wasn't that surprising they would build settlements near any decently sized body of water they could find.

I passed over to the far side of the lake as I brought the wagon down once more for a landing. On that side I could see a narrow river running along the southern edge of the town towards the ocean that lay somewhere beyond the visible horizon. I could see the ruined supports of what I could only assume used to be rope bridges that spanned the river. Naturally they would have been incinerated when the land was scorched by Celestia One.

Lowering our altitude gradually to her a better view of the area around the city, I finally brought us down on the north side of the lake, just beyond the edge of the former settlement. The first thing that struck me, getting a closer look at it for the first time, was how alien the zebra architecture seemed. In Equestria the rural settlements had their cozy wooden town and farm houses, while the cities had their towering glass and metal skyscrapers. Here, all of the buildings were cut from what looked like giant stone blocks, and none of them rose above two or three stories. There was a complete absence of windows and doors in spite of the frames that should have held them. I suspected this was also the work of Equestria's megaspell counterattack, the various scorch marks plain to see. I shuddered at the notion, having never really contemplated what might have happened on this side of the border on the day of the holocaust.

After a minute or two of curious observation, I detached myself from the wagon's harness and moved to let May out. When I opened the cage, I saw that she too was looking at the zebra settlements. “I take it you've never seen them before either?”

May shook her head, “In pictures, but not up close.” She touches the surface of the closest building, her hoof coming away with a bit of black on it. “Ashes burnt onto the stone,” she remarked. “Reminds me of Manehattan. Nothing left but ashes.” She frowns deeply. I couldn't tell what part of it was bothering her, so I simply said nothing.

May lit up her horn and floated out Rottingtail's revolver, slipping into the nearest building, her horn bathing the interior with light. Following behind her after retrieving my things, I could see... nothing. The first floor of this building was a single large room, and there was absolutely nothing inside but for a coating of ashes and dust on the floor. There was a stone stairwell with a rotted-away banister leading up to a second floor landing. A quick flight up there showed me a few more rooms, all of which were equally empty.

I came back down to find May absently staring at the ashes. Any hopes that she might have some sympathy for the deaths that occurred here faded when she gave a derisive snort before turning to face me as I landed next to her. “This will do,” she said simply.

I nodded in reply. The stone construction was sturdy, even though it lacked any underground foundations. I didn't know what, if anything, we might possibly encounter here in the zebra lands, but if anything did show up, we would have a clear view of the only entrance. I pulled a lantern out of my pack and lit it, allowing May to kill the glow from her horn. I placed the lantern in the middle of the floor, its light dim but adequate enough to fill the room.

I approached May, wanting to speak with her again, but she curled up any turned away from me, indicating that she wished to be left alone. I sighed, but knew that she had a lot of conflicting emotions to sort out, and trying to press her right now would simply make things worse. I retreated to the other side of the room and laid down. My skin felt itchy as it began to dry out, the arid conditions hastening its decay. I feared my complexion wasn't the only thing beginning to deteriorate, and hoped for May's sake we would be able to find what we came here for.

***

I hadn't realized that I had dozed off, but was awoken with a start as I heard a noise from outside. Low and guttural, it was the sound of some manner of wild beast. Casting a quick glance at May, I could see that she was alert and aware of it too, and the way she was looking at the wall indicated that, whatever it was, she could see its position thanks to her Pipbuck. She said nothing but levitated out Rottingtail's revolver, her horn's glow not much brighter than that of the lantern.

As I pulled Stronghoof's Legacy off my back, my bad eye rolled towards that lantern. Its flickering light was probably responsible for having drawn... whatever it was towards us. Unfortunately, dousing it now would probably do nothing, since the pungent smell of ghoul (more from May at the moment than me) would still be more than noticeable to any wild animal. I braced the rifle against my shoulder and brought the trigger up to my mouth as my good eye followed May's gaze, turning her head as the creature moved.

Suddenly, before the creature made it all the way to our door, there was a loud, pained sounding roar, followed by a thud. May blinked in surprise. “It's gone,” she remarked, then began staring intently in the direction it had been approaching from. “What the...”

“What is it?” I asked with a mix of relief and confusion, not being able to see what her E.F.S was indicating.

“Something definitely killed... whatever that creature was, but there's nothing else on my compass.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it just died on its own?” I suggested a bit foalishly.

May took that suggestion about as seriously as I would have and continued trying to make out something. Although May didn't manage to see anything else, we both started to hear something new. It was a sliding, scraping sound, like somepony was dragging something heavy. May gestured to the lantern, which I moved to extinguish, after which we both stepped out of the zebra structure to find out what was really going on.

What I saw was not something I expected to see outside of Equestria. It was, by my first impression, a massive, oversized, mutated manticore. However, it was difficult to see in the dark, and the creature was slowly being dragged away from us by... something. However, as my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I noticed two things. First, that the tail of the creature did not have a stinger and was decidedly feline. Secondly, it had no wings. What the creature was actually called I had no idea, but the wooden shaft of a spear sticking out of its back made it clear that someone else had slain it.

Neither May nor I managed to get a glimpse of who was responsible, and May held out a hoof to keep me from following right away. She made a shushing motion with her hoof, then pointed to the ground. As the creature was being dragged away, it left a faint but noticeable smear on the charred ground. I nodded my understanding. Someone had killed this creature, and if that someone was dragging the creature off, it had to be going somewhere. Somewhere that might just have someone who could help us. At least, that's what I figured May was getting at. We didn't really have anything else to work from at the moment, so there was nothing to lose in following the trail.

We waited a little while at first, to make sure that whoever it was we were about to follow had enough of a lead that we wouldn't be noticed. I took the air, flapping my featherless wings as silently as possible, while May started following the trail on the ground, her eyes glued to it. I pulled my rifle back up and kept it ready in case anything else like that not-a-manticore showed up. Taking a quick peek through the scope, I spotted it being dragged away farther ahead, still with no sign of who or what was actually dragging it. I figured it was somepony invisible, although how they were accomplishing that was a mystery to me. They were even hiding from May's E.F.S, which was even more curious.

The trail led us out of the zebra settlement and down the length of the narrow river. Eventually we could see smoke rising up, illuminated by a massive bonfire. The fire itself cast flickering light over a group of figures, just over a dozen that I could see (of varying ages judging by the sizes), as well as what looked like a camp. Bringing the scope to my eye to get a better look, I could see a half-dozen conical tents made from animal hide and long wood or metal poles. They were decorated with hoof paint and wooden ornaments, some of them resembling masks. Looking to the assembled figures, all of them were wearing similar masks and cloaks that obscured their features, and each had a spear planted in the ground next to them. The dragging path of the creature's body led straight to the camp.

I fluttered back down next to May, slipping my rifle over my back and whispering, “There's a camp up ahead. Maybe two dozen.”

May nodded. “Although why anypony would want to live out here is beyond me.”

I chuckled, pointing May to her Pipbuck, “There is the absence of radiation and a nearby source of fresh flowing water.”

May blinked and looked at her Pipbuck. Sure enough, the radiation detector was silent. “I didn't even notice. I haven't paid attention to that thing in decades.” She chuckled a bit as well.

I smiled. May chuckling was the first positive sign I'd seen in a while, even if it was just a little one. We crouched down and continued our approach to the camp. There was a slight ridge in the mostly flat land, just short of the camp, with a large rock on our side of the river that the water burbled against. May and I crept up to the rock and peered around it, the assembled figures not noticing as they watched the corpse of the beast dragged into the middle of their camp near the bonfire. From this angle, I could see some kind of podium standing near the rear of the camp, a heavy tarp covering something.

Turning my attention back to the creature, I saw someone who hadn't been there before. Another figure wearing a dark cloak had appeared, shimmering into existence out of thin air. The cloak had a jewel in the clasp just below the hood and was both darker in colour, yet lighter in texture than the ones the other masked figures wore. The figure retrieved his spear from the creature's back and the others assembled picked theirs up, pinched in their hoof joints. The first figure, who had all the eyes of the others on him now, threw back his hood and thrust his mouth-held spear into the air. I gasped. It was a zebra!

***

I had only ever seen one zebra up close before. Her name was Zecora, and she lived in the Everfree Forest near Ponyville. It seemed a little ironic that I had been afraid of her, as had everypony else in town, until her mysterious nature was cleared up by Twilight Sparkle and her friends. They had befriended the zebra long before the war, only for her kind to be branded as enemies of Equestria, and subjected to hatred, fear, ostracizing, and who knows what else. At least when we were afraid of Zecora in Ponyville, we hadn't resorted to any kind of violence, we just avoided her. There had even been other zebras living in Equestria during the war. I had never given them much thought until just now.

As soon as the zebra removed his hood and cloak, the others took their masks off and threw their own hoods back in unison. The removal of their cloaks showed that most of them were wearing crude armour made of animal hide. They were talking loudly, so my gasp went unnoticed, but I couldn't understand a word of what was being said. It was probably their native language. I looked on curiously, just watching for a moment. The zebra that had killed the creature stabbed his spear into the ground and hung his cloak on it. He turned to show off his flank, adorned by a squiggly looking mark whose meaning was lost on me. Perhaps this was the zebra equivalent of a cuteceñera, or some similar coming of age ceremony.

Before I could really get any better idea of what was going on, May bit at the scruff of my neck. “Okay fine, so they did survive. Still, we don't need their help,” she hissed, trying to lead me off.

I raised an eyebrow. “This is their homeland, May,” I retorted. “Theirs is exactly the help we need.” I took another glance back at the zebras, all of whom seemed to be paying attention to the one that had been invisible. The cloak must have been enchanted. They proceeded to plant their spears back in the ground around the bonfire.

May's voice pulled my attention away again, “Look at them Ditzy. The fact that they're zebras notwithstanding, they've devolved to a hunter-gatherer tribe. They probably wouldn't even recognize a gun, let alone a balefire bomb.”

“That doesn't mean they don't know their way around,” I suggested. “If we could approach them and ask for directions to other old settlements-”

“Do I look like I speak zebra?” May scoffed.

“Maybe they speak Equestrian,” I countered. May didn't want their help, but for her sake, we needed it. Causing her a bit of annoyance would be worth it if we could get what we needed to finish her spell.

Rather than trying to argue further, May simply turned and began to walk away. She probably figured that I would follow after her, and she was right, although I would at least keep trying to convince her. I couldn't leave her alone in a foreign land, but I also could not pass up an opportunity like this. Even if the zebras couldn't understand us or mistook us for monsters, it was the first time we had a chance to get help, and for all I knew it might be the only chance we would ever get. If ever there was a time I wished I could go back and do something differently, it was right then and there.

As I turned to catch May, my eye rolled back towards the camp. As it did so, I was able to see an elderly looking zebra move away from the congregation towards the podium. He pulled off the tarp, revealing something that stopped me dead. I had no idea what it was, but my attention was drawn to it like a magnet. It was small, geometrically shaped with surfaces that seemed to twist through each other. The whole thing was the size of a bushel of apples and swirled with sickly mesmerizing coloured light. I turned to focus my whole attention on it, both eyes locked on to it, unable to tear my gaze away. The zebras seemed fixated on it as well, turning towards it in unison and then kneeling to it. The only exceptions were the elder and the young stallion, who trotted up next to the podium as well.

What they were really doing I would never find out. May turned back around to address me, but whatever she might have been about to say died on her muzzle. Her gaze immediately fell upon the object of the zebra's worship. Her eyes went wide, and a single whispered word escaped her muzzle:

“No...”

With my focus locked on to the object, I barely registered most of what happened next, only coming to the realization of what was going on after it was too late. The glow of May's horn was effectively lost to the light of the bonfire and the glowing, twisting colours of the object. I only realized that she was levitating Stronghoof's Legacy as the strap pulled taught against my shoulder. A moment later, the gun was wrenched off my back, the strap sliding up and catching my neck, gagging me for a moment before slipping loose. I fell to the ground, retching and coughing hoarsely. I looked up to see May's face contorted with a rage the likes of which I had never seen, my rifle and Rottingtail's revolver both floating beside her.

I was incapacitated and having trouble breathing, and could only watch in horror at what May did next. She bounded over the rock and began to fire on the zebras. The soft pffts of my rifle made all the more quiet by the resounding crack of the revolver. The zebras were equally stunned. May screamed and roared and yelled as she fired, although I could only make out snippets of anything intelligible. As fire began to ring out, there was a series of yelps and frantic whinnies from the assembled zebras, coupled with shouting in that unfamiliar tongue. The rest was guttural screaming and nonsense.

“Not again! Never again!”

“Better wiped than striped!”

“This is for Buttercup! This is for Buckbright! This is for Mirror! This is for Shoeshine!”

Each calling of a name or phrase was punctuated by a shot from one of the two guns, although the last I managed to hear had only an empty click. I forced myself to my hooves, pulling myself forward. I didn't want to see the carnage, but I had to stop May. My eyes went wide in horror at the scene I witnessed. May had already killed five zebras and wounded others, emptying both guns in the process. Those uninjured ran to retrieve their spears, but with a horrible display of her magic, May ripped all of them from the ground at once and hurled them in every direction. Three zebra stallions charging her fell, while two others, their weapons lost, turned and fled. Another spear caught the hind leg of a retreating mare who stumbled, pinning a filly beneath her forelegs as she tripped.

The filly tried to skitter out from under the mare, who was struggling to her hooves. May approached with a spear floating alongside her, murder in her eyes. I kicked off with my hind legs and, even though I was still gasping for breath, threw out my wings and tackled May hard, the impact dropping every weapon in her magical grasp. Every part of my gut wrenched, both from the impact with my friend and the pain of what I had witnessed her do. May and I rolled over each other numerous times before we came to rest with me on top, pinning her.

“RUN!” I shouted to the zebra mare.

Whether she understood me or not, the zebra mare began to hobble away as best she could, keeping herself between us ghouls and her filly. Unexpectedly, I was flipped over by May, who proceeded to try and pin me as I had done to her. She glared down at me, and I realized that was it. Her eyes were dull, any glimmer of hope or shine of intelligence I would have once seen there gone. My own strength left me as my mind raced, trying to find some other explanation than the one I didn't want to face. May pressed down on me with a strength she didn't normally exhibit, gnashing her teeth at me and snarling wickedly. I gave a fierce kick of my front legs, pushing May off of me. She crashed into the bonfire, sending flaming logs rolling and setting many of the zebra tents ablaze.

I stood, panting, looking at May, desperately trying to reach her. “May! Please!” If I could just get her to listen...

My words didn't reach her. They couldn't, not now, nor ever again. She slavered and shrieked and gave a wicked whinny before lunging at me, teeth bared and eyes hungry. I didn't have time to think as my own survival instinct kicked in. With minimal consciousness of doing so, I grabbed one of the spears in my teeth. There was a sickening sound, a splash of warm blackness, and a sudden, dead weight atop me. Then everything faded away to nothingness.

Footnote: ...

Author's Note

This actually all fell into place a lot faster than I was expecting once it got going. Maybe it's best this particular chapter didn't drop -on- Christmas Day though.

Chapter 16: Missing Pieces

Author's Note

Okay, I'm sure you're all wondering what took me so long. The answer is actually surprisingly simple: I wasn't happy with my writing. This chapter was very heavy, and I got very caught up in trying to make it perfect. The more I told myself I needed to make it better, the more and more I got frustrated. I eventually got to the point where I thought I was going to have to scrap the whole thing and start over, which only made things worse for my motivation. I began to question whether or not I had what it took to be a writer at all, and I wandered away from this project because I didn't feel worthy of it for a long time. While this was going on I was also GMing an FoE PnP group that was falling apart, further hurting my confidence in my storytelling abilities.
There was a bunch of other things in my life that were going wrong too, but I'll spare you those details. Suffice to say that this year, I finally got to a better place. After that finally managed to settle on me, I spoke to a couple of readers who followed this story, and they convinced me to get back to it. Upon re-reading what I had written up to that point, I realized it was nowhere near as bad as I had convinced myself it was, and managed to pick it up again.
So now, here at last, is chapter 16 of the Ditzy Doo Chronicles. I lost touch with my pre-reader, so if I missed anything polishing it up myself, I apologize. I'll try to find another one for subsequent updates. I imagine there will be mixed feelings about whether or not it was worth the wait, but to those who encouraged me, and those who still want to read what I've written, I say thank you.

Chapter 16: Missing Pieces

Chapter 16: Missing Pieces

“I don't need to understand it! I don't even care!”

Nightmares.

Just about everypony who lived in the horrors of the Equestrian Wasteland has experienced nightmares. Considering the broad variety of terrible things that happen on a daily basis, it would be difficult to find any sane pony that didn't have them at least occasionally. Sometimes they were vivid, sometimes they were vague, but the ones I experienced always left me feeling awful. Perhaps the one thing I appreciated most about being a ghoul was that I didn't need to sleep, even if I did so occasionally. Less time spent sleeping means fewer bad dreams. However, sometimes they still managed to creep in.

I found myself in the midst of one now. I was frozen, paralyzed and choking as I watched my best friend steal my sniper rifle from me. She also pulled out her own gun, turning it and mine on her enemies. They were zebras. A dozen of them, maybe more. They had been chanting around a fire, celebrating. Then that fire turned green and it cast the zebras in a foul light. That light had driven May insane, turning the zebras in front of her into memories of enemies long dead. She opened fire on them, even though they had done nothing to her. They screamed and tried to run, tried to hide, but my friend wouldn't stop. She roared an old, forgotten battle cry and screamed out unfathomable words. Some of the zebras tried to stop her, but her magic and guns were far quicker than their spears. Every single one of them fell. Someone threw off a cloak that had rendered her invisible: it was me. I picked up a spear and charged at my best friend. As the horror that seemed unending suddenly closed to black, my wracked feelings were affronted one final time by a disgusting squelching noise and a heavy thud.

***

I awoke with a start. I couldn't seem to recall when I had fallen asleep, but I was lying on my back, staring up at the cloudy grey sky, a tinge of orange marking the coming of dawn. What I could recall was the painful contents of that nightmare. I would have to tell May about my dream. She had some understanding of psychology, especially for ghouls, and perhaps would be able to shed some light on its meaning.

I attempted to sit up, only to suddenly and strangely become aware of a weight pressing down on me. My eye rolled down as I tilted my head to look at what was on top of me. It was May, sprawled on me like I was a bed of hay. That struck me as odd, but my brain was being almost deliberately sluggish. I prodded May's shoulder to waken her, intending to ask her why we were positioned like this. She gave no response. I prodded her once more, only for her to roll limply off me. I screamed.

May had the shaft of a spear sticking out of her chest, its blade embedded deep enough to have pierced her heart. I felt a sudden surge of panic and skittered backwards until I ran into something else. Shivering as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw the body of a zebra. Not just any zebra though; this had been the one who had killed that beast the night before, and had been the focus of the celebration of the assembled camp of zebras we had come across. Two bullet holes punctured his neck.

I screamed once again. I was still having that horrible nightmare! I scrambled away from the zebra's body, gasping and hyperventilating. I tried futilely to calm myself, but knew the only way to escape this was to wake up. I brought up a hoof and pinched my cheek. Nothing happened. I pinched harder. Still nothing. I slapped myself across the face a few times to just as futile an effect. I finally resorted to dumping a bottle of Sparkle~Cola over my head. All that did was leave me feeling sticky.

A weight like lead dropped into the pit of my stomach as it finally dawned on me. The nightmarish scene before me was real. There would be no waking up from this horror. I fell onto my haunches, then rolled over onto my side, curling up into a ball. I didn't want to be where I was. I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted to be with my friends. Except I couldn't be. One of them was still back in Manehattan, and the other was... dead.

As the inescapable finality of that word crossed through my mind, I just shuddered. Wave after wave of unbearable, nauseating misery washed over me. It was so deep, so full of despair that I thought I would drown in it. I curled up tighter, trying to warm myself enough to stop the shivering. It didn't help. I wasn't cold, and yet under all that despair I felt like I would never be warm again either. In spite of the despair, I found myself unable to cry. That just made me feel worse. My best friend, who I had known for a lifetime and more, was dead. She was dead and I couldn't even shed tears for her. After everything that had gone wrong lately, I just couldn’t anymore.

***

I don't know how long I lay curled up and shivering, but it was at least long enough for the orange colouration of the dawn sky to fade. I finally sat up, still shivering and nauseous, and cast my gaze about the scene. May... her body was still close by, as was the body of the young zebra stallion. Surrounding them were seven other zebra corpses, all of them dead at May's hooves. Four Stallions, two mares, and a filly not even old enough to have her... zebra squiggle mark thing. Seeing the filly, a gaping hole in her head that I knew was from my own rifle, made me want to cry more than ever. It also made me want to vomit. I ended up only doing the later.

After staggering away to empty what little was actually in my stomach, I wiped my muzzle with a hoof. I winced as I felt skin flake and peel away. My hide was beginning to rot again. I just sat myself down on my haunches, my mind drawing a blank on what I should do. What I could do. May had always been the one with the plan; the one taking the lead. Now she was gone. In the hundred and twenty years spent travelling the Equestrian Wasteland, May and I had almost always been together. What would I do if I wasn't spending my time helping her seek out a cure for ghouls?

As I sat there, wallowing, my bad eye rolled about, taking in the mess that had been made of the zebra camp. A few loose bits of flame hadn't died out, although most of the tents had been burned to ashes. Some of the zebra bodies were singed. May's had burnt flesh on her back from when I had kicked her into the bonfire, resulting in the scattering of logs. One of them had rolled up to and toppled the tarp covered podium. The object it had borne, its strange sickly green glow contrasting the embers of flame, had landed on the ground.

It only took a moment of looking at that thing before a fresh wave of emotion cut through my despair. I was suddenly and intensely furious. My friend was dead, and that... thing! It had been the cause of her slip into insanity. It was responsible for all of this! I got to my hooves, finding them heavy, but managed to plod over to the strange object. What it was I didn't know, what it did I didn't care. All I knew was what it had caused, and that it needed to be gotten rid of.

I raised my hooves up, feeling strained in doing so to the point of using my wings to keep them up, then brought them down hard on the object. All that did was bruise my hooves. I tried again, slamming even harder. The blackened earth beneath the device cracked, but the device itself was annoyingly durable. I repeated the process of slamming my hooves against it a dozen times more, but all I managed to do was make a mess of my hooves and bash the thing about a quarter of the way into the ground beneath it.

I fell to my haunches and just glared at the object. The ache in my hooves became more and more evident as my rage ebbed away, the despair that had preceded it flowing back in to take its place. I again found myself transfixed by the pulsing, swirling, sickly colours within the object. I began to suspect the device had some kind of magic. Seeing it had instilled rage and insanity in May, worshipful reverence in the zebras, and in me it brought out a sense of confusion and entrancement. I just spent the next little while staring at it, transfixed, the gears of my brain grinding away for answers.

My brain stumbled across an answer, but not the one I was looking for. The words of a cold, ugly, scarred unicorn mare played in my mind. “When that resolve of yours finally breaks, remember what I told you...”

The last words that Emerald had spoken to me when she and her troop of Steel Rangers had massacred the ghouls of the Trottingham Necropolis. With the memory of those words came flooding back other memories; those that Emerald herself had forced into my mind with her magic. She too had seen her best friend killed before her eyes, and she had suffered through innumerable hardships, just as I had. Was that it then? Was I to end up a broken, bitter, ruthless mare like her? Was this the end of my hope? Or perhaps I would simply lay down and die, or turn feral like May had and lose all sense of self. I would have given anything to avoid either fate, scared as I was. That and more I would have given to have my friend back.

Before that train of thought could pull away into extremity, it was swiftly derailed. An obtusively pink apparition plucked away the foul memories like slides removed from a projector. It was Pinkie Pie again, unwilling to let me drown in my despair now as she had then. I clung to her once more. Even as I grasped, my mind slipped in one last dark pondering: Would May still be here had she something like this of her own to hold onto?

***

Pinkie Pie had always been the most optimistic pony you could ever meet, or even imagine. Even during the height of the war, she remained chipper and joyful. Although I had never been a member of their close circle of friends, I had always been fond of the Ministry Mares, especially her. I chose to believe that she had appeared to me in my time of desperation for a reason, and clung to the notion that not all was lost. After spending some time clinging to the image of Pinkie Pie, I finally felt I had a little strength with which to stand again. I was alone in a foreign land, I had lost my best friend to feralism, and I stood surrounded by the bodies of the innocent zebras she had murdered in a fit of rage. I didn't have any idea of where I would go next, or what I would do when I got there, but there was at least one thing I could set right then and there.

Carefully, I began to move the scattered logs back towards the middle of the zebra camp. I stacked them as best I could, but they were already charred and smouldering, so it wasn't as neat and tidy as it could have been. Once I was finished, I carefully went around to each zebra body, shutting their eyes if they were open, and gently pulled them atop what would become a funeral pyre. I hadn't known these zebras, but at least I could save them the added insult of leaving their bodies to rot, or be fed upon by wild animals.

Once I had the eight bodies set amidst the logs, I glanced at May's body. I considered burning her body as well, but decided against it. May was my best friend, and I wanted to bury her and give her a proper marker to remember her by. I pulled over the heavy tarp that had previously covered the object the zebras were worshipping. I threw it over top of the zebra bodies, then dumped the fuel from my lantern onto it. I lit a match and set the pyre ablaze.

I just sat and watched the pyre burn for a few minutes, but turned away when the heat began to dry out my already scabbing skin. As I turned, my hoof caught on something and I tripped. I found the culprit to be the cloak that had turned the young zebra stallion invisible, tangled up with the spear he had used to slay that creature. It seemed like an eternity ago that May and I had watched him drag the carcass back to his tribe. I tucked the cloak into my saddlebag, then collected my rifle and Rottingtail's revolver, reloading both before slipping them away. I gave Stronghoof's Legacy a sad glance, knowing that it had killed that filly. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn't help but feel like the meaning of that name had now been tainted.

I gently lifted May's body back into the caged cart. The tarp that had previously covered it when Apex had used it was still inside, so I used that to cover her. I sighed a deep, mournful sigh, and then stepped out of the wagon. As I turned around, my eyes were once again drawn to the glowing zebra artifact. I just stared at it, wondering what to do about it. I hadn't been able to break it, and frankly didn't want anything to do with it. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I just left it there though, it could potentially cause more bad things to happen. I moved to retrieve it.

A morbid curiosity started to creep into my mind as I approached the object. May had gone crazy at the sight of this thing, and all those zebras had died because of it. Why? What was it about this thing that had triggered it? Why were the zebras worshipping it, why did May recognize it, and why did I have no idea what was really going on? I suddenly felt overwhelmed with the need for answers. May had spent her entire life pursuing an answer to the ghoul problem, only to trip at the finish line. The absolute least I could do was find out why.

I gingerly picked up the strange object, the sensation of holding it making me tingle for some reason. I slowly carried it over to the cart and placed it inside the cage. It was hardly heavy, in spite of its durability, but I wasn't taking any chances. Its odd shape prevented it from rolling around, but that glow coming off it would be a great big signal beacon for flying predators. Pulling the invisibility cloak back out of my bag, I threw it over the device. The tarp covering May's body would have been more than big enough to cover it as well, but somehow I felt it would be disrespectful to have May sharing a covering with the thing that had been her doom.

I didn't know where I would go, what I would look for, or who would ultimately have the answers I sought, but all I really had left was time. I spent a little bit more of that time watching the zebra pyre burn until it was almost exhausted, then returned to the wagon and hitched myself to it. I didn't know how long I would have to search, or how far I would have to look, but I figured my best odds of getting closure on May's fate would be to find more zebras. Ones who might have knowledge of the artifact and its purpose. I felt like I was trying to barter with the universe itself, but then, I was a merchant. Sort of. I would have given anything to have May back, but since that was impossible, I would have to try and get something else out of it. Something to make sense of the senseless waste.

***

Flying alone was miserable. There was no conversation, no radio playing, and not even the knowledge that a friendly presence was nearby. I was on my own for the first time in over a century. While doing delivery runs by myself while running my own company had been fine back in Equestria during the war, the fact that I was alone now was far more pronounced by the absence of familiar companionship. Even as a ghoul my life had been reasonably predictable. If somepony asked me where I saw myself in ten years, I would have known the answer. Now, I had no idea.

I began flying back and forth over the zebra lands, looking for any signs of civilization of any kind. Water sources, animal herds, roads or railways, or even more of those hide tents they seemed to live in. All I found was more desolation. The Megaspell that Equestria had used against the zebras had been universally and unflinchingly destructive. A dark thought crossed my mind. Had those zebras been the only survivors? Had May's outburst been the last nail in the coffin of zebras as a species? I knew that couldn't be true, given how tenacious ponies had proven to be in the face of the end of the world. That didn't stop the thought from being frightening.

I was greatly relieved to come across a set of railroad tracks as the afternoon wore on. The railway had been the chief route by which Equestria and the zebras had traded resources in the time before the war. The zebra lands had been rich with coal, and they in turn had various needs for the abundance of gems Equestria had within its borders. I may not have understood the politics of war, but as a merchant pony, I had come to grasp the economics of it quite well. That was how the whole terrible conflict started; coal was getting harder for the zebras to mine and deposits were becoming scarce, so they demanded higher values of gem in return. However, Equestrian merchants eventually refused to keep increasing payments, feeling they were being extorted. Throw in some poverty, a little piracy, misplaced patriotism and a lot of politics, and everything spiraled out of control.

I descended slowly towards the railway tracks as the thoughts invoked by seeing them here in the zebra lands played through my head. I hovered just above them for a moment and took it all in. Like everything else in the land, they were scorched. The wooden ties were little more than charcoal and the rails themselves were deformed and blackened. An experimental touch of my hoof caused one of the ties to simply crumble to ash. While some tracks in Equestria had been refurbished by various wastelanders, I found it highly unlikely that these ones were used by anyone.

In spite of that fact, I began to follow the tracks. The zebra lands may be largely barren and desolate, but much as ponies tended to seek the ruins of their former settlements for protection and community, there must have been at least some zebras who did the same. A railway was quite possibly the quickest way by which I might be led to one, rather than searching blindly back and forth. I briefly mused, as I began to travel along the line, if anyone else knew that tribe of zebras. Considering how few and far between they were, it struck me as unlikely. I really hoped that the survivors were at least holding together. Even with their losses, they still had each other to rely on.

I was following the tracks north, back towards Equestria. Perhaps they lead to a trading post or small border settlement. In a way, the railroad tracks were a blessing, the lack of a plan leaving me in desperate need of direction. At the same time, that blessing felt empty; a hollow replacement for the noble goal May and I had pursued for more than a century. I got the feeling that as soon as I reached the end of those tracks, May's dream of curing ghouls would die too. I was nowhere near as smart as May, had no knowledge of magic, and there was nopony I knew that would be able to finish what she started, even with her research notes.

I didn't really mind that I was getting closer to Equestria. A longing was building in my heart to go home and leave everything that had happened behind. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't though. Not until... that was just it. I only had one idea of what to do, and I feared that it wouldn't be enough. I was afraid that the hole left in my heart by the loss of my best friend would never be filled. I was afraid that it had all been for nothing. A century of friendship and effort and pain endured together, all for nothing. Yet still I followed those tracks. Maybe if I kept following them, the things I was afraid of would eventually fall behind.

***

As the day wore on, I got closer and closer to Equestria. Closer and closer to the end of the line. On the horizon I could see the jungle that stood on the border between the two nations. I briefly wondered what a place like that would be like now, between the megaspells and the time in the wasteland that followed. The tracks seemed to be leading right to it, but well before I could reach it, something else became visible against the stark emptiness of the broad, flat zebra lands. It was a train platform. Momentarily spurred by curiosity, I flew up close to it, setting my cart and its contents gently down before detaching myself.

Not wanting to leave the cart, I limited myself to hovering just above it to get a view of my new surroundings. The train platform was almost by itself, but there were old, worn paths all around it. One of these paths I followed with my good eye, my gaze reaching what looked like a tunnel into the ground. Looking past the tunnel, I could see an area of ground that was uneven, cracked, and riddled with holes and collapses. Around the area were ruined bits of what might have been a small village once, all surrounding that little cave mouth.

I slowly put the pieces together in my head, concluding that this was a coal mine. Bits of carts and tools occasionally stuck out of the collapsed sections of ground, supporting that conclusion. There was even a bit of mangled rails near the mouth. I could only guess that Equestria's megaspell had caused the mine to collapse, taking the surrounding settlement with it. This of course meant that there wouldn't be anyone here. I sighed and drifted back down to the cart.

It was getting late in the day and I was exhausted. While I still had no need to sleep any more than I had for the past century, I was physically and emotionally played out. I curled up beside the cart after pulling out a blanket to lay on. I knew that even if I did manage to sleep, I would again be plagued by nightmares. I was far too tired to care, and at least with nightmares I wouldn't have to face anything real.

***

I didn't manage to get any rest at all. After laying next to the cart for what must have been a couple hours, my ears perked at the sound of approaching hoof steps. Looking up, I could see the dim light of a lantern pole further up the tracks. It was too far away to see what was carrying that light clearly. However, someone approaching meant I couldn't try to go to sleep again. Even if they weren't raiders or the like, plenty of wastelanders would have little qualms about scavenging a wagon like mine. The fact that I was a ghoul would, sadly, make some folks more willing to do so.

I got up, carefully pulling Stronghoof's Legacy out of the cart as a precaution. The wagon creaked as I did so, and the noise of it apparently reached the approaching light bearer. The lantern pole stopped bobbing for a moment, allowing me to make out half a dozen figures silhouetted against its light. From the way they stood, it was apparent that they had taken notice of me as well. I could have gotten a closer look through my scope, but I didn't want to accidentally start a fight. Not now. After a pregnant pause, they began approaching again, albeit a bit more slowly than they had been moving before we had taken notice of each other.

Eventually the one holding the lantern pole stepped out in front of the rest of his group to come towards me by himself. I heard the clicks of a battle saddle loading. I raised Stronghoof's Legacy and lowered my mouth to the trigger. Eventually the lantern bearer stepped into full view. It was another zebra stallion, but he was distinctly different from the ones May and I had... encountered. He was wearing what looked like light police barding, with a familiar gear-shaped logo on one shoulder, embossed with the number three. Coupled to that was a battle saddle bearing two military assault rifles. Strangest of all, he was wearing a Pipbuck just like May's.

The zebra stallion and I just stared at each other for a few moments, weapons pointed at each other, but not firing. The zebra finally broke the silence, “You are a ghoul,” he stated a bit bluntly. Perhaps more surprising was the fact that he spoke fluent Equestrian.

I nodded slowly, “I'm not going to eat you or anything,” I said with maybe a touch more spite than was necessary. Given all that had happened though, I wasn't about to take any flak for my condition. His comment drew my attention to the fact that my skin had almost completely reverted to its necrotic state. May's unfinished cure hadn't even lasted two days.

The zebra stallion nodded and his posture loosened, his mouth moving away from the bit of his battle saddle. He shook the lantern pole twice and I heard hoof steps come our way from where he had left the others he had been with. “I ask your forgiveness for my wariness, but my companions are in rough shape.”

I blinked, curious. “What happened?” I asked with a touch of concern. I didn't notice immediately, but the concern for my fellow equines was soothing compared to the mix of other painful emotions I had run through that day.

The zebra stallion looked back at his companions, “We were following these tracks through Crescent Moon Canyon. We thought we would be safe, but some of the jungle beasts disagreed. We did not lose anyone, but we have been travelling for the better part of a day on injuries needing proper time to recover.”

I nodded. May had, in her rage and madness, harmed a number of innocent zebras. It struck me as an odd, yet seemingly feasible possibility that this was an opportunity to balance things out. That, or destiny was mocking her. Even if it was though, I had no intention of ignoring equines in need of help. It's what May would have wanted... mostly. More than that though, I wanted to make things... I couldn't exactly make them right, but I could make things better for these folk. “My name is Ditzy,” I supplied. “I'm a travelling merchant. I might be able to help.”

The zebra allowed a small smile onto his muzzle. “I am Zanthe.” As he spoke, the other five figures entered the range of his lantern. There were three more zebras, and two ponies. Each of them had at least a small weapon, and barding with the Stable-Tec logo on it. While Zanthe's was proper security armour, the others looked like they had been patched and cobbled together to function as such.

Then, after noticing the Stable-Tec attire and Pipbucks on all present, I noticed that two of the mares were carrying foals. One was an earth pony colt, snoozing soundly, his left hind leg bandaged. The other took me by surprise. A zebra filly at first glance, but atop her head was the horn of a unicorn. As well, a rusty reddish tint covered the fur on her legs. The unicorn mare carrying her trotted up beside Zanthe. She saw me and took a step back in surprise, but no farther.

Zanthe gestured to the mare, “Ditzy, this is my wife, Cauliflower, and our daughter, Moon Chaser.”

***

In my defense, I had never seen a pony-zebra crossbreed before. After a little while spent staring, Cauliflower had brought my attention back to the rest of their group, each bearing various bandaged injuries. Shaking my head clear, I moved to the cart and pulled out a half-dozen healing potions and a roll of mundane bandages. Cauliflower took them in her telekinesis and smiled appreciatively, moving to administer them to her companions.

Zanthe addressed me immediately; “You said you were a merchant, yes? How much?”

I shook my head, “I wouldn't feel right charging,” I said. “I am curious about your story though.”

Zanthe blinked and tilted his head. “Well, alright. Stories have value too. My family and I come from a Stable. Specifically, Stable 3. It was built at the base of the mountain upon which Canterlot once stood.”

As I recalled, Canterlot was still standing, just poisoned by that cloud thing. “So did it open up recently?” I asked.

Zanthe nodded, “Yes and no. The poison megaspell used on Canterlot, we discovered, was eating its way inside. Even the Stable could not keep it out forever. At the discretion of the Overmares, we waited as long as we could in order to allow surface hazards to dissipate, but eventually we had no choice but to abandon our home.”

I followed the story, even if my lazy eye kept rolling down, but then blinked. “Overmares? Plural?”

Zanthe answered: “One zebra, one pony. Our Stable was intended to raise post-war generations to avoid the discrimination that made the Great War so much worse.”

I was intrigued. Although Stable-Tec had been messing around, they apparently had at least once success. The half-zebra, half-unicorn was, by herself, evidence of that. “So, are you all family then?”

Zanthe smiled, “Yes. The other zebras with us are my father, mother, and sister. The other pony is Cauliflower's brother, and the colt carried by my sister is his son.” He sighed a bit, “Her parents did not make it out of the Stable unfortunately, nor did my brother in law's wife.”

I frowned, bowing my head a bit in respect. “What about others?”

Zanthe shook his head, “Many of us had different ideas about how best to live outside the Stable. Some stayed to form a settlement, others, like us, made their own path. I wished to visit the homelands of my ancestors, and my family came along with me. What about you though; what is an Equestrian ghoul doing so far outside its borders?”

I frowned. “I was... looking for something with my companion. She didn't make it.” I hung my head.

Zanthe bowed his head respectfully for a moment. “What is it you were searching for?”

I answered, mostly. “A way to restore ghouls to their former state.”

Zanthe tilted his head, looking intrigued. “Given what I have seen of ghouls, this cannot have been an easy undertaking.”

I nodded. “When her unicorn magic failed to fix the problem on its own, she decided to look for answers in zebra magic. I won't claim to understand any of it, but she figured since balefire bombs were a zebra creation, their magic might have the missing solution to reversing it.”

Zanthe nodded in understanding. “We were taught about the conflict between ponies and zebras in the Stable, in the hopes that living in harmony together with that knowledge would prevent both sides from repeating past mistakes. It is a shame that my ancestors' kin wrought such destruction.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Given what I saw back there, Equestria wasn't any kinder in response.”

Zanthe gave a small smile and raised his head a bit. “I do not think you or I can be found accountable for what was done before our time.”

I shook my head, “Actually, I was there when Cloudsdale was destroyed. That's how I ended up like... well, this.”

Zanthe blinked, looking surprised. “I did not realize ghouls were so long lived.”

I sighed once more. “Yeah, my friend was from the wartime as well. In all those years though, she never managed to finish her work, and now I don't think anyone ever will.”

Zanthe nodded, giving a sigh as well. “This world, sadly, seems to have a habit of taking things from everyone who steps hoof into it. We're not the only ones who lost family in the exodus from the Stable. The best we can do is move on with what we have left and our heads held high. If we let the wasteland win, then we are just as guilty of our own loss as anything.”

I perked my ears as Zanthe said 'guilty of our own loss', and my mind turned back to the thing guilty for a substantial loss just the day before. The wasteland had taken my best friend from me, and as I had told myself, the least I could do is find out why. I didn't know the extent of Zanthe's learning in the Stable, but I did know that he had a heap more education than anyone else I was likely to run into. As well, if the object was some sort of zebra artifact, the fact that some zebra culture was preserved through his Stable meant there was a chance he'd know what it was. It may have been pinning my hopes on a long shot, but I had never planned on just giving up.

“Um, Zanthe...” I began, “before my friend died, we did find something. She wasn't able to tell me what it was, but it seemed important.”

It was Zanthe's turn to perk up his ears. “Oh? Then perhaps your quest was not in vain after all. What is it you found?”

I moved back to the cart and opened it, careful not to disturb May's body as I moved to retrieve the invisibility cloak, and the object it concealed. I used the cloak to gently carry the glowing object out of the car and set it on the ground, pulling back the corners to reveal the object to Zanthe. Its glow brightened the area considerably, dwarfing what light his lantern pole provided.

Zanthe just gaped at the object for a moment. “You come from the time of war,” he began cautiously, “but you do not know what this is?”

Did that mean Zanthe did? I shook my head. “I was just a mailmare back then.”

Zanthe seemed transfixed by the object for a little while, a sensation I could recognize for having felt the same thing myself. “This... is a great and terrible weapon of destruction.” He said the next part in a whisper, “A balefire megaspell.”

In spite of Zanthe's whispering, I let out a very loud gasp at what he told me. I had been in posession of a Megaspell?! If there was any colour left in my face, it drained away as that revelation hit me. I had stomped on the thing in anger. I was lucky I hadn't incinerated myself, not to mention whatever else would have been in the blast radius had I set it off. I fell to my haunches as the weight of that truth washed over me. I was dumbstruck, words from Zanthe not registering as my mind reeled.

In that moment of revelation, several things became clear to me. The zebras of that tribe presumably did not know that their relic was a weapon of terrible destruction, else they wouldn't have been worshipping it. The very thing that they had been worshipping turned out to be the entire reason May and I had come to the zebra lands in the first place, and the sight of it had driven my friend insane. It wasn't that hard to deduce why either, even if I wasn't the smartest mare around. May hated zebras for what they did to Equestria, and she had recognized the balefire bomb on sight. She had seen her perceived enemies in possession of the very weapon that their ancestors had used to destroy our nation. She didn't get the chance to consider whether or not they knew what they were in possession of. She had already gone mad from the sight of it. I slumped to the ground and wept, fearing that the realization of the pointlessness of my best friend's death would drive me mad as well. Now that the tears had finally come again, they would not stop.

Then I felt a hoof in my shoulder. I stopped weeping for a moment, looking up at the hoof's owner with my bleary, tear flooded eyes. It was one of the other ponies; the one with the colt snoozing on his back. “It would be rude of me to ask how your friend lost her life, but clearly it's very heavy for you. When we were escaping from the Stable, I lost my wife. I'll tell you what Zanthe told me: dwelling on what you lost will blind you to what you still have to live for.” He smiled softly and glanced to the colt on his back.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes with a foreleg. A few more bits of skin flaked away along with my tears. I tried to think of what I still had. For a while, I just drew a blank. May had been my oldest and dearest friend. However, she hadn't been my only friend. My thoughts drifted back to Craterside, where Rottingtail was training the ghouls there to defend themselves without relying on Apex's thugs. I thought about Bright Light, off someplace else with her followers, possibly even free of persecution and thriving. May wasn't the only friend I had lost either: Gizmo, Stronghoof, Blinkie Pie, Bonus Track, and many of the residents of the Trottingham Necropolis, including Apple Crumble, who had been Rottingtail's nephew. He had been at least as enraged by that death as I was by May's, and yet he had eventually moved on. I had been able to move on in spite of all their deaths as well, partly in thanks to May. I had to count on being able to move on without her, with the help of the friends I still had.

***

I provided Zanthe and his family a chance to rest by looking out for them, not needing to actually sleep. When morning came, I shared what I could spare with them. They would likely need the supplies more, being slower on hoof than I was in the air. Going forward, none of us really knew what else they might encounter, but I would be heading back towards Equestria. It was familiar territory that I knew the dangers of already. I needed to get back to the friends I still had, and lay the one I had lost to a proper rest. Thankfully, I could do so by following the railroad tracks again. They would take me through Crescent Moon Canyon, and back onto Equestrian soil.

I had decided to hold onto the balefire bomb, although that had more to do with not really knowing what to do with it than anything else. There was perhaps the slim chance that someone else would be able to use it and the work May had already accomplished to finish her goal, but it certainly wasn't going to be me. Hope was all I had left either way, so I got going. Perhaps something would occur to me along the way. If not, maybe Rottingtail would have some insight. He actually had some battlefield experience, and might know of a safe way to store or dispose of the bomb. At least I had inadvertently discovered that it would be difficult to set off by accident. It probably needed a special trigger or detonator of some kind.

I departed from the abandoned rail station not long after Zanthe and his family had gotten underway, heading north along the tracks. As I drew closer to Equestria, I saw the jungle looming up ahead, which I had only previously seen from a great distance. Crescent Moon Canyon ran alongside it, the large valley that had gotten its name from the shape it carved out of the land when seen overhead. My trip was remarkably uneventful. Treks through the Equestrian wasteland were often dull, but without someone friendly to speak with, it was almost unbearable.

Several long, boring hours passed as I made my way to the canyon. Once there, the sounds of the nearby jungle provided a small comfort. Comfort in the fact that there were other living things nearby, diminished by the likelihood that if I actually met one of them, it would be in a fight. I sighed internally as I flew on, keeping close to the ground so as to not lose sight of the tracks.

As I wearily travelled on, my lazy eye rolled to the side. What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks.
It was nothing more than an empty, forgotten shell of a large school building, barely standing on ruined foundations. What might once have been a sprawling quad was now dirty, blackened, and empty. Ruined bits of statuary stood atop a pair of brick gateposts, and I could only guess what they had once depicted. The place felt like what it had become: a graveyard. A faded sign on one of the gateposts confirmed what I suspected: what I had found was Littlehorn.

In the days before the war, it had been a school for gifted unicorns under Princess Luna. Halfway through the war, a massacre here had led to Princess Celestia's abdication, and by extension, the founding of the Ministries. The details had not been very clear, with the reports saying only that a zebra had used a previously unknown weapon to kill everypony at the school. Why it happened was never made clear, but in the eyes of Equestria's public, it wouldn't have mattered anyways. A school full of children had been slaughtered. There was no justifying such a horror.

A memory drifted through my mind of May once again. Back when I had first met her, and led her and the ponies she had been tending to back to Ponyville for shelter, I had showed her the view of Canterlot. She had been terrified when she saw the pink haze covering the city, and cried out 'not Littlehorn'. I could only surmise that the megaspell used on Equestria's former capital had been the same as the weapon that was used here. It had been naive of me back then to think it was a smokescreen tactic, but I had been so reluctant to face the possibility of all that death.

Moroseness washed over me as I realized this had been where it all fell apart. While the war had been raging for years before, this was the place where everything took a sharp downhill slide. This was the point of no return. I touched down and slowly trotted into the schoolyard, driven by I know not what. Where once had stood a playground, now stood a memorial, dedicated to the ponies that had lost their lives here; students and teachers alike. I detached myself from the wagon and trotted up to it. I somehow felt that paying my respects here, more than just honouring the innocent victims of this massacre, would also be a show of respect for everyone else that had lost their lives in the Great War, and since. Or maybe I just needed to get away from my own present.

I seated myself in front of the memorial, glancing up to the top, where Princess Luna's cutie mark and an epitaph for the victims were carved into the obsidian block. In spite of the years passing and the world ending, the stone retained a polished finish. I suspected it had been enchanted so it wouldn't have to be cared for manually. It wasn't hard to imagine why that route had been taken; I can't think of anyone who would want the grim task of looking after such a dark reminder. It was strangely ironic that the memorial of this tragedy had survived an even greater catastrophe, which had stemmed from the one it canonized.

Below Luna's cutie mark were the names of the teachers, followed by the students. I began reading them over quietly to myself. Curiously, reading of these other victims did not increase the weight in my own heart over my friend's death. Rather, it made me feel a bit ashamed of how I had acted. May was my friend yes, but she was only a single death. I had let my closeness to May blind me to the fact that her tragedy was but one of countless others in the wasteland. May's life may have ended in tragedy, but she had lived her life in pursuit of something greater. She wanted to do something for the ponies of the wasteland, something that would matter. Unlike the foals on this memorial, she had lived a very long life, helping so many others. I was glad I had not succumbed to my grief, as I could think of no worse insult to May's memory than to forget all the good she had done.

As I continued reading the names on the memorial, I stopped as I neared the bottom. Two names stood out at me, as I had recently heard them uttered. 'Shoeshine' and 'Mirror', both of which were followed by the surname 'Cure'. My mind exploded into a sudden burst of activity when I read those names. The missing piece fell into place at last. May's hatred of the zebras, her dedication to the Ministry of Peace, and likely everything in her life that followed had begun here, just like the Ministries and the escalation of the war. Here, at this site, May had lost her family. Whether they were siblings, parents, or children, I could not have said, but that hardly mattered. The weight of it was all the same.

***

Time passed as I sat there in front of the Littlehorn Memorial. How much time I don’t remember, but it was a lot. Enough, I hoped, to pay my respects to every stallion, mare, and foal that had perished in that horrible tragedy. Perhaps more time still was owed in memorial of the ponies and zebras that had died in the Megaspell holocaust, but the wasteland itself had been quiet enough for that. After that long time of sitting and praying and reading the names, I stood up, ready to do what I needed to.

I trotted back over to the cart and pulled the tarp off of May’s body. She looked almost peaceful, like she might have been sleeping, but for the fatal wound in her chest. I felt like I had received a wound near as bad to my own heart, but maybe, with time, it would mend. At least I would have the opportunity to try, and wait, and hope to find out. I removed the spear from her chest gingerly, a pang hitting me as I remembered that in the end I had been the one to take her life. She was far from the first ghoul I had ever killed to spare them from feralism, but she was far and away the most important to me. If she had been turning feral less suddenly, she might even have thanked me for the mercy.

Using the shaft of the spear and a rusted piece of metal from the playground, I fashioned a crude shovel for myself and began to dig. I started the hole that would be my best friend’s grave a few feet from the Littlehorn memorial. Far enough away that I wouldn’t disturb it, but close enough that I felt she would be near her lost family. Time seemed to slow to a crawl once again as I dug. I only stopped for a moment to light my lamp when night fell, then continued. By the time I was finished, a last glance at May’s Pipbuck told me it was well after midnight.

I sighed as I looked over May’s body, setting the shovel down in the cart next to the balefire bomb. I was spared having to take anything from her corpse like conventional wasteland wisdom would suggest, as all of our supplies had been on the cart to begin with. The exception was her Pipbuck, but I had neither the knowledge nor tools to remove it, so I left it alone. I wouldn’t have known what to do with it even if I could get it off. Knowing how Stable-Tec built their things to last, it would probably still be there and working long after May’s remains had crumbled to dust.

With one last sorrowful glance at her, I took the tarp and wrapped it around her body like a shroud. I kneeled down and hefted her onto my back, then turned and trotted slowly out to the hole I had dug. I could feel the weight of my lost friend upon my back with every step, and it was a great relief to actually reach her grave. I knelt down gently and dipped my wings, allowing May’s body to slide into the hole, coming to a stop with a dull thud. I stood back up and looked down with a long, sad sigh.

There was nopony to attend May’s funeral but me. Nopony to speak words for her, or talk about the things she had achieved in her life. Nopony to listen if I were to be the one talking about her. All I had were our memories. Some of them were blurry, and in a hundred and twenty years, I had probably forgotten a fair share of them, but they were all I had to offer her now. I lowered my head and prayed silently that somewhere, out beyond the Equestria that we all know and live upon, she could be with her family again. Mirror, Shoeshine, Buttercup, and any others she had so long been bereft of.

My prayers finished, I began to fill the hole back in. I choked on my tears as the finality of burying my friend hit me the hardest now that I was doing so. I managed to hold back on being sick to my stomach with the grief, thankfully. With each clump of dirt I placed atop her wrapped body, I made the loss ever more real. At the same time though, acknowledging that loss was also helping me steel my resolve. May was gone, and nothing I could do would change that, but for her sake as well as my own, I would continue to live, and to strive to make the Equestrian Wasteland a better place. Whether for just ghouls, or for everypony.

I finished filling in May’s grave, then looked around. I couldn’t do anything as formal as the obsidian monument to the Littlehorn victims, but I would not leave May’s final resting place unmarked. Trotting over to the school’s outer wall, I retrieved a chunk of stone and dragged it back to the grave. It was a rough hunk of marble, but it was largest piece that was free of its own fractures. I set it down as flat as I could manage at the head of the fresh mound. I didn’t have a chisel or hammer, so I had to make do with the hunk of metal from my makeshift shovel to score the stone. It was not pretty writing, nor was it as resistant to fading as proper engraving, but I knew May would have understood that I did the best I could with what I had.

Here Lies Mayflower Cure
In life, she was kind, generous, honest, and brave.
She never stopped trying to help those in need.
Now in death, she rejoins those she loved.

Although the words to mark May’s grave came easily to me, it took some time to actually carve them correctly with only the rusty piece of metal. By the time I finished, dawn was breaking. At least I assumed it was, by the lightening of the clouds from black to grey. My engraving finished to the best of my ability, I pushed the stone back upright with my nose. Once it was set, I dug some of the earth around it and set it into the ground so it would be better anchored. With that, I concluded laying my friend to rest.

Before I could be sure May's rest would be peaceful, there was one last thing that I needed to take care of. I turned my gaze back to my cart, and to the Balefire Bomb that was on it, still concealed by the zebra’s magic cloak. There were many things I could do with it, but none of them seemed appealing. I couldn’t just leave it somewhere, but I had no desire to bring it back into Equestria either. I did not have the knowledge or skill to disarm it. I wasn’t afraid of it going off by accident after the stomping I had given it in my rage before, but just tossing it someplace could leave it to be found by someone who might know how to use it.

I decided at last that, since I could not dispose of it, I would have to hide it. That way, it would be safe from discovery, or from any force that might accidentally set it off, however unlikely that might have been. I retrieved the cloaked megaspell from my cart and flew it past the outer wall of Littlehorn, setting down near the edge of the nearby jungle. The jungle was thick, albeit sickly, and likely filled with mutated beasts. Very few travellers would have any desire to approach it. Mercifully, the spot I landed in was free of any such deterrents, for the moment at least.

I used my improvised shovel to clear away some of the underbrush, trying to do so quietly to avoid unwanted attention. Mercifully, none came, and I was free to begin digging. I dug the hole three times as deep as the bomb was wide, then used the zebra cloak to gently lower it down. I did not leave the cloak in the hole with the bomb; I was far too experienced in the wasteland’s challenges to give up something so useful. After filling in the hole thoroughly enough that the light from the device was thoroughly smothered, I turned away and began to trot back to the wagon.

I had only taken a few steps when I stopped, a thought crossing my mind. What if I found somepony who could understand May’s work, or had the know how to finish it? May had thought a Balefire Bomb might be the last piece of the puzzle for fixing the ghoul condition. Would it really be right to just abandon and forget about the thing? May had died for it after all. Of course, I knew the odds of finding another pony with May’s expertise were incredibly slim, but once that thought slipped in I found myself unable to shake it.

After debating with myself for a moment, I trotted back to the hole. I broke the piece of metal from my makeshift shovel and laid it right on top of the small mound beneath which the bomb was buried. Small, rusted, barely noticeable, the hunk of metal would go unnoticed by any of the jungle’s creatures, and be easily overlooked by any scavengers who might happen to pass through. I would know where it was though. If I ever found somepony who could finish what May started, I would know where I had left it. Even if I never found that somepony, I would still know.

With the marker in place, I returned to the wagon. I took a long time hitching myself up to it after stashing the zebra’s cloak in the back. It occurred to me that I didn’t really need to haul the whole thing back to Craterside, but for some reason the weight brought me a small comfort. Like I was back doing deliveries again. Although this time the only thing I would be delivering was news. The ghouls there, especially Rottingtail, deserved to know what had happened. After taking off, I hovered for a while over the Littlehorn memorial, and May’s little headstone beside it. By the time I worked up the nerve to leave, dawn had come again.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Non-Feral Ghoul

Lucidity: Moderate

Ghoul Tip: Don’t saddle yourself with burdens alone. Remember that stress is the enemy of lucidity, and sharing your feelings and concerns with friends is the easiest way to relieve it.

Bonus Perk Added: My Past Is Not Today – You don’t let what has gone wrong in your life stop you from trying to be your better self. You gain much higher resistance to the threat of feralism, regardless of radiation levels.

Interlude 4: Carrying On

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 14: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 14: The Beginning of the End

“Ultimately, Fluttershy killed us all.”

Megaspells.

When somepony thinks of the megaspells, their thoughts first turn to the blinding flash and putrid green flames tinged with a sinister rainbow sheen. I know mine still do. Balefire bombs were the instrument that destroyed most of Equestria, and turned what was left into a toxic wasteland. Manehattan, Hoofington, Stalliongrad, Cloudsdale, and so many other major pony cities were destroyed by these devices of mass annihilation. However, there are so many ponies who forget the megaspells' original intent. They were meant to bring about the ultimate stalemate, not total destruction.

***

“May...” I began, trying to get a proper grasp on what she was talking about.

She didn't seem to want to let me get a word in edgewise. “I can't believe I didn't think of it before,” she exclaimed, “it's been right there the whole time!”

“May!” I barked, more firmly this time. That seemed to get her attention. “Please, slow down.” I waved a hoof in an attempt at a calming gesture. “Can you start over please?”

May took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm herself as well. “Like I told you Ditzy, I'm sick of it. Sick of being unable to help ponies, sick of being too little or too late, and sick of being denied the chance to help when I could be doing so much more.”

“May, don't-” but she cut me off again.

“Most of all Ditzy,” she said with a resigned sigh, “I'm sick of being a ghoul. All I ever wanted to do was help ponies. Buttercup and I both joined the Ministry of Peace to do just that. We idolized Fluttershy and her compassion. Now look at us! She's dead and I'm a shambling corpse.”

I raised an eyebrow; “Just because you're a ghoul doesn't mean you can't help ponies,” I objected.

May snorted and stamped a hoof; “Have you been paying attention Ditzy? That's exactly what it means. More than half the ponies we come across won't even let me near them, even when they're bleeding to death. I thought that maybe with the time I had as an undying ghoul, I could do some good, but it's all been for nothing so far.”

“Don't say that!” I exclaimed. “What about all the ghouls whose minds were saved thanks to you? What about all the good ponies you were able to save? Do they mean nothing?”

“No, they don't,” huffed May, tears forming in her eyes. “Most of the ghouls I helped keep their minds just went on to get killed by somepony else. Or did you forget the Trottingham massacre already? Face it Ditzy, so long as ghouls remain the way they are, nothing is going to get better for them. Ever! Not to mention psychopaths like Apex and Snips making shit even worse for us.”

That stung, enough to make me flinch away from May. I really didn't like the way she was treating herself. There was more to it than that though. It was like she was blaming herself not just for her own failings, but for everything bad that had ever happened to a ghoul, or even because of a ghoul. It was painfully discomforting. I couldn't help but wonder if this was just a shock response to what Apex had done, or if it had been building for some time and only just now breaking the surface.

“May,” I tried, hoping to at least comfort her a little, “how long have you felt like this?”

May took a deep breath, then sighed drearily. “Since the incident with Snips. His dementia showed me that no matter what I do, insane ghouls are going to happen, and they're going to keep hurting ponies. Worse still, even lucid ghouls like Apex are now causing problems to regular ponies.”

“So your solution is going back to trying to cure the condition,” I noted.

May smiled a little, looking determined. “Yes, it's the only real way to be sure things like this don't keep happening.”

I was relieved to hear her sounding a little more like the old May, although I was still a bit concerned. “You mentioned megaspells. How exactly... I know I don't really know anything about magic, but how would a megaspell be able to help?”

May gave a smirk. It was a little off, but I chose to be hopeful that it meant well, rather than being a hint of desperation. “I know a lot of ponies forget this, especially considering how the war came to an end, but megaspells are more than just balefire bombs and other weapons of mass destruction.”

I nodded; I wasn't privy to the inner workings of the Ministries, but I knew that May had been once. “Okay, so what's the plan?”

May smiled. I think my willingness to go along with her idea, outlandish though it was, helped her regain some of her usual composure. “The first time a megaspell was ever cast was at Shattered Hoof Ridge, in the middle of the battle there. I know because... I was there. I was one of the ones who cast it.”

I blinked silently for a moment, and then my jaw hit the ground (thankfully not literally). “You were there?” I asked incredulously.

May nods, looking somewhat forlorn; “Admittedly, the test could have gone better, considering that we had no way to discriminate the effect between our own soldiers and those damn zebras. Even so, the power of the healing was astounding. I saw a number of soldiers on the verge of death brought back to life in a single magical flare. Not to mention dozens of others I didn't see.”

I nodded my understanding. “So you think that healing magic could fix the... cellular necrosis?” I allowed myself an internal squee for remembering that term.

May shook her head; “No,” she replied, which I found somewhat confusing, given her enthusiasm a moment earlier. “That megaspell was meant to heal wounds, not mutations. However,” she continued with a smile; “I doubt there's anypony who understands the ghoul mutation as much as I do.”

I nodded slowly, beginning to understand. “So, you think you can make a spell that can fix it?”

May smirked at that; “I was in the spell research division for a reason Ditzy. All I really need is a proper facility, and some time. I'm really not sure why this idea never occurred to me before all this happened.”

I shrugged, although I suspected it had something to do with the fact that Equestria was rather... chaotic since the holocaust. “So, you need a facility right? What about your old office at Manehattan General? It was still intact when we were here before.”

May smiled with what looked like a touch of nostalgia; “Good thinking Ditzy. That'll make things much easier.”

I blinked, then raised an eyebrow; “What were you planning on doing if I hadn't suggested that?”

May waved the question off with a hoof wiggle; “No need to worry about that. Your idea is better, not to mention a lot closer.”

***

Closer yes, but sadly, it would become apparent rather quickly that better was not the correct descriptor. Time had been much kinder to the ponies of Manehattan that came back to live there than to the old city itself. While new, small towns and settlements popped up, the old ruins of the past came crumbling down. Manehattan General was no exception. It was even worse than most, considering the place had been in dire straits when we went there well over a hundred years before.

May had been painfully quiet during our walk through the city. I hoped it was because she was working on ideas for the curative spell in her head, but my fears kept telling me it was a warning sign. I ignored them, choosing hope over fear. I would again, even knowing what I know now. When we reached the ruins of Manehattan General, or what was left of them, that silence was abruptly shattered by a scream of frustration from May.

Manehattan General was gone. When we had been here before, a skyscraper across the street had fallen and crushed half the former Ministry of Peace hub. Now, the half that had previous been standing had collapsed in on itself. The only recognizable trace of it was a part of the sign depicting the cross and butterflies that were the MoP's symbol. Even the skyscraper that had crushed the hospital had been reduced to a skeleton of what it had been before.

I was disappointed by this unfortunate turn, but May was completely distraught. She scrambled over to the ruins and began shifting through them. “What are you doing?” I asked worriedly as I galloped over to her.

May turned to look at me; “I'm getting her out!” There were tears in her eyes.

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. Even after a hundred and twenty years... she was still thinking about Buttercup. “May...” I began, feeling a little unsure of what to say. After this long, there would only be bones left, if that. The chances of actually finding her remains in that mess were painfully low.

May went back to what she was doing when I couldn't form a response. She used both her hooves and magic to try and shift the debris. She continued doing so for about fifteen minutes before she came to a complete stop. She just stared at the ruins vacantly. I looked over her shoulder to see what it was that had captivated her, hoping she may have actually found Buttercup. What she had found was a medical box. The thing was dented and the cover was bent open, the contents spilled out on the ground. Most of them were destroyed, but one item remained intact. An inhaler, one that May and I both knew all too well.

May floated the inhaler up and just stared at it. I could see the conflict on her face, clear as day. “May...” I began again, “please don't...”

May began to cry. It was a pained cry, raw despair etched onto her face. She telekinetically hurled the inhaler to the ground and began to stomp on it. She screamed, channelling what had to be over a century of anguish into her cries and the pounding of her hooves. She pulverized the inhaler until there was nothing but crumpled plastic and pasted Dash mixed into the ash on the street. At that point she turned away and threw her forelegs around me and just sobbed into what was left of my mane. I sighed thankfully and stroked her, hoping to provide some comfort as she continued her wretched sobbing.

It took almost half an hour before May stopped crying, and even then I could tell she was still terribly upset. I couldn't blame her; the ruined hospital had opened a number of old wounds in a matter of minutes. Her dead marefriend, her addiction, her perceived shortcomings of being unable to help ponies, and her self imposed sense of failure at having been unable to prevent past catastrophes. As much as I wanted to tell her it would all be okay, I knew she'd never listen. There was really only one thing that might convince her to forgive herself.

I lifted May's head off my shoulder with a hoof and looked into her eyes. “So, what's the plan?”

May blinked in confusion for a moment; “Plan? What do you-”

That time I cut her off; “Before I proposed coming here to find you a work area, you said you had another idea, just that mine was more practical. What was it?”

May seemed to have trouble grasping what I was talking about, but after a moment her eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Well, it wasn't necessarily the best idea-”

“But it's all we have right now,” I interrupted. I wasn't going to let her start spiralling downward again.

May nodded slowly. “Right, well... the first time a Megaspell was ever performed was at the battle of Shattered Hoof Ridge.”

I nodded, remembering she had mentioned that earlier. “You think there might be a facility there?”

May looked doubtful, but answered regardless. “A joint MoP-Military facility in the area was where the spell was put through the final stages of its development. If we're lucky, and I mean really lucky, the facility might be intact. The only problem is that Shattered Hoof Ridge is dangerously close to the old zebra homeland.”

I raised an eyebrow at that; “You don't think zebras would still be encroaching on Equestria after all this time do you? I mean, even if they survived Equestria's megaspell counter-attack, they'd have too many things to worry about in their own nation to bother with ours.”

May considered that; “No, I suppose not. However, who knows how many times the facility could have been raided for supplies, or used as shelter. It's been a hundred and twenty years after all.”

I shook my head, not willing to let May keep doing that to herself; “Well, it's the best idea we've got. I say we go for it. There's always hope.”

May sighed, then nodded. “Right. I still envy you Ditzy, you know that right?”

I smiled; “I'd rather you envy me than pity yourself. Now let's go.”

***

Before we could head out to Shattered Hoof Ridge, May and I decided to head back to Craterside first and inform Rottingtail of the change of plans. As well, I would need to find a new wagon or cart to carry them in. When we arrived, we found the town gathered together outside, near the communal housing where the three of us had spent our first night here. It brought back unfortunate memories of Dusty, but I let them lay.

Rottingtail was in the middle of telling the rest of the village what Apex had done, and what we had done in turn. The reactions were surprisingly varied. Most of the ghouls seemed horrified at the prospect. A few were nervous, as Apex and his thugs had been their primary source of protection from external threats. Some already knew, and had been forced into silence. As well, a very small number, whose whispers I only heard while slipping through the crowd to reach Rottingtail, seemed to support what Apex had done, either out of spite or a sharing of his belief in ghoul superiority. I didn't draw attention to them; the last thing we needed was to be fighting and killing more of our own.

We reached the head of the crowd and waited for Rottingtail to finish the story, then approached as the crowd began to disperse. “Yer back awful soon,” he remarked, limping up to us.

I shook my head with a sigh; “Hospital collapsed; nothing left.”

Rottingtail looked sympathetic; “Dang. Gonna try someplace else?”

May nodded firmly, pushing aside her regrets with what determination she could muster. “Shattered Hoof Ridge.”

Rottingtail whistled; “That's on th'other side of Equestria. Gonna take ya'll a while ta get there.”

I nodded; “I'm gonna take one of Apex's carts and fly you guys there. The cage should keep you from falling out, and it's only fair that something used to ruin so many lives be used to try and save them.”

Rottingtail looked between the two of us for a moment, then shook his head; “Sorry t'have to say this, but Ah ain't comin' with ya.”

I blinked in surprise; “You're not? Why?”

Rottingtail looked at the various ghouls as they were dispersing. Most of them were already returning to their homes, although a few were standing around discussing what had happened. “Apex was in charge o'this place, but it turns out he'n his cronies were the only means of protection they had. A few of the ones left know how t'use a gun, but none of 'em can do it well. Most are former civilians or scavengers or the like.”

May looked to Rottingtail in surprise; “And you're going to teach them?”

Rottingtail nodded, actually donning a smirk; “Ayup. Gonna take a few out to salvage some guns and bullets, plus what Apex and his gang left behind. Then Ah'm gonna train 'em like Ah did the Trottingham Militia.” I saw the pang of hurt on his face as he mentioned that, but he pressed on. “Ah figure, since it's kinda our fault they ain't got protection, we should take responsibility to get 'em a fresh one.”

I nodded; “Alright then. We can bring up the guns and ammo when I grab the cart.” I smiled at Rottingtail; it looked like he too was finally seeing a chance for redeeming himself, at least in his own eyes.

The ghoul sheriff seemed to notice my smile and returned it with a peck on the cheek; “Now, don't ya'll get lost or shot or nothin'. Ah'll be expectin' ya'll to come back with good news.”

***

True to my word, I delved into the sewers to procure one of Apex's caged carts. It was easy enough to bring back out as well, once I opened the giant shutters that Apex had used to allow radiation in. I loaded the wagon up with all of the weapons I stripped from Apex and his gang. Oddly enough, I found that Apex's internal radiation stores had been bleeding out since his death, and his glow was dimming gradually. Out of sheer spite, I spat on his corpse. Normally I wasn't the type for such petty things, but he really deserved it.

I brought the cart back up to the communal housing area, out front of which Rottingtail was setting up a shooting range of old bottles and tin cans. Most of the guns only had the clips currently in them for ammunition, so they would have to go out and find more unless Apex had a hidden stockpile somewhere in the town.

I was a bit torn; part of me wanted to stay with Rottingtail for a while and help the Craterside ghouls, particularly given my mercantile and scavenging experience. However, Rottingtail was in his element here, and he could handle it on his own. May could not. Even though the Shattered Hoof Facility wasn't likely to get any worse than it already had over the past hundred and twenty years, I feared that May might begin to wallow in self doubt again if I waited too long. I prayed that the facility would still be there and this wouldn't end up being for nothing. I didn't think May's increasingly fragile psyche could take another blow like that.

I left Stronghoof's Legacy and the rest of my gear in May's care on the back of the wagon. It was difficult to strap into a harness properly when wearing holsters, slings or saddlebags. Rottingtail also let May hold onto his revolver, claiming that it was 'lucky'. I was thankful for this, as May had shown herself to be better with small arms than with rifles like mine. Plus he had the weapons left behind by Apex and his cronies to use anyways.

Once I was properly strapped into the wagon, I took off immediately, not wanting to allow May any more time to wallow. As mean as it might sound, I also hoped her fear of flying would keep her mind off of other, darker thoughts.

***

I've mentioned a few times before that flying for long periods of time can get boring. Typically, May and I would pass the time on long flights like the one from Manehattan to Shattered Hoof Ridge by chatting or listening to the radio. Which made it somewhat unnerving for May to be so quiet during the flight. She hadn't even tried to start up a conversation to take her mind off of her fear of flying. In itself, that should have been another warning sign, but I was still holding out hope that May would get back on her hooves when we reached our destination.

After almost a full day of silence, I decided to try and get the conversation started myself. “You doing okay back there May?” I asked. “You've been awfully quiet.”

May was quiet a few moments more before responding; “I'm fine.”

I wasn't convinced, but I went along with it for the sake of avoiding a conflict; “Alright. Can you tell me more about this facility then? It'd be nice to know what I'm looking for when we reach the area.”

I chances a glance back to see May lying fairly still, barely raising her head to respond. “The facility was underground, behind the front lines of the battlefield. Look for the trenches.”

I nodded, noting that landmark for reference. However, I still wanted to get more out of May for the sake of keeping her mind off of the various melancholies she was burying herself under. “What do you think we'll find there?”

“Nothing,” May replied curtly.

I groaned; May was not making this easy. “Okay, but what was there before the holocaust?”

May raised her head, giving a sigh; “A spell research laboratory.”

I couldn't help but feel frustrated at that blatantly unhelpful descriptor. “May, please, I'm just trying to help keep your mind-”

“You wouldn't understand half of what was there even if I told you,” May snapped, cutting me off. She then gave a dejected sigh; “I'm sorry Ditzy, that wasn't... I mean... I'm sorry.”

I brought the cart to a stop in midair, hovering in place. I turned my head back and looked to my oldest friend. “Look May, I know you're upset, and that things haven't been going well lately, but beating yourself up and snapping at me isn't going to make anything better.”

May glared at me; “No, you're right. The only thing that will make things better is banking on a chance that a century and a half old, prewar facility is intact. I know you're trying to be hopeful about it Ditzy, but let's be realistic. This journey will, in all likelihood, end with us going back to Craterside empty hoofed. After that, we'll live out the remainder of our lives in an irradiated shanty-town until we either get shot or go feral.”

I wanted to be mad at May for her cynicism, but the fact that she was crying over her own outline of our prospects was telling. She desperately wanted to find something she could truly be hopeful for, but she just couldn't. Her compassion and hope had been stretched far beyond their limits, and she was nearing the breaking point. The wasteland was just too cruel for a pony as kind as her, and she couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't help but wonder though, how far away from that stage was I?

“Look May, I know it's hard,” I said firmly but calmly, “but you said it yourself. If there's a chance to finally help all the other ghouls, then we have to take it. Even if it is just a chance. Think about it: wouldn't it be worth it in the end? No matter how bad the odds are, if it works, then it was worth the risk.”

May sighed and nodded, but didn't look convinced. She laid her head back down and remained silent but for one last sentence; “Do you have anything to eat in your bags? I'm hungry.”

***

After another day of silence, I got tired of it again, and asked May to turn on the radio. She grudgingly obliged, and we were once again met with the voice of DJ P0N-3. It was still the same DJ that had replaced Bonus Track, that we had heard upon our return to Manehattan. He, unfortunately, didn't sound too happy.

“Good afternoon children, this is DJ P0N-3 and I'm afraid I have some bad news for today. The small settlement of Hovelhoof in the southern area of downtown Manehattan has gone dark. There were a hoofful of survivors, one of whom was spoken with by one of my informants.”

I gulped, dreading to hear news of what Apex had done reach the airwaves, particularly when the line of DJs had been so often supportive of our kind. I noticed that, despite her previous solemnity, May had perked up to attend to this broadcast as well. In spite of the cause, that brought a small smile to my face. Even while she was slipping, her concern for others remained.

The next voice that came through the radio was one I recognized. One of the Hovelhoof survivors that May had treated for radiation poisoning. One of the few not to succumb to the worst effects it could bring. The one who had spurned any offer of further help for her and the other survivors, even after May, Rottingtail and I rescued them.

“It was awful,” came the mare's voice. “There was this band of ghouls. The one leading them was glowing with radiation, and he was insane. Making all these claims about how ghouls were this superior race. He, along with a few armed thugs and a pack of feral ghouls that almost seemed like they were trained, rounded up everypony in town, and killed those who resisted.”

I sighed. This was going to cause outrage at ghouls, and was certainly going to result in persecution of those who weren't involved. I was glad at least that Apex had built his ghoul town in a place that normal ponies wouldn't be able to reach safely.

“They loaded us into cages and took us to the Manehattan blast crater, trying to soak us in radiation and, in his words 'bestow the gift of the undying'. Most didn't survive, some ended up as ghouls, but a few of use were saved.”

I blinked; “What?” I hadn't been expecting her to mention that. I waited on baited breath for her to continue.

“The insane ghoul and his followers were killed, and the ones who saved us tried to treat those that were irradiated. I was one of the lucky ones. I just hope nopony else has to suffer that kind of horror. Those that were unfortunately ghoulified... hopefully they can find some of their own kind that aren't crazy to settle down with. My husband included.”

As the radio switched back over to the DJ, I winced at the words of the mare. I hadn't realized her husband was among the victims. Then again, she hadn't said anything to us after the fact. I didn't even know her name. I sighed and listened as P0N-3 finished up the report.

“So there you have it. A roving posse of ghouls as bad or worse than any raider. Sounds like they got exactly what they deserved. Just like I've said before, what goes around, comes around. Just be careful not to give it to those that don't deserve it. Now, here's some Sweetie Belle.”

As the song began to play, May and I exchanged looks. The DJ's words weren't likely to convince as many people as the mare's story, leaving my concerns unabated. May seemed to be thinking the same thing, and I saw that wonderful glint of determination in her eyes. “We have to make this right.”

***

The rest of our journey was spent with the radio on, listening to make sure that Craterside remained safe. We knew that we couldn't do anything but push forward now, since going back would completely invalidate our reason for leaving in the first place. DJ P0N-3 threw in a few reminders about differentiating between those directly at fault, but considering the way our kind was usually treated, I didn't think it would do any good. It was a relief that we never heard anything about Craterside itself between songs.

On the fourth day since departing from Manehattan, we finally reached Shattered Hoof Ridge. The ridge itself overlooked a flatland that served as the largest direct border to the Zebra homeland. I had read about the battle here in the newspapers a century and a half prior. It was apparently one of the most brutal conflicts in the course of the war. Zebras trying desperately to scale the ridge, entrenched ponies fighting and dying to hold them back. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like being there. May could; she was there.

May was eerily quiet, and in a much different manner than her depressed silence, as we flew over the ridge. I began to wonder what might be going through her head; what sights and sounds she might be reliving here. Fighting the occasional mutated animals or raiders is a far cry from a battlefield full of bullets flying, cries of pain and death echoing all over the place. The true carnage of war that I had never been witness to was most certainly being replayed in May's head right now.

After a couple of flybys, I finally spotter the trenches at the base of the ridge where most of the fighting had taken place. They were largely collapsed or flooded from the time and weather that had occurred since the end of the war. In the process of searching for them, I had seen quite a bit. The now ruined structure at the top of the ridge where Big Macintosh took a bullet for Celestia, blast craters from shells and grenades thrown about during long forgotten battles. Somewhat surprisingly, there was a massive, glowing blast crater. I hadn't know Shattered Hoof to have been hit by a megaspell, but what else could leave a wound upon the land like that? Perhaps it had been intended for a different target. I doubted anyone would ever know.

I finally set the caged wagon down behind the Equestrian line of trenches. I shucked myself free of the harness and flew around to the back to unlock the cage for May. She beat me to it, having let herself out. She had already reequipped her saddlebags and Rottingtail's revolver, and was floating my bags and rifle out for me. I took my saddlebags first and donned them before slinging my rifle over my back. After a moment of consideration, I slipped Stronghoof's Legacy out and flew up to do a low altitude sweep of the area. May stayed put, not saying anything. She merely nodded to me before I took off.

A quick fly over the area didn't really tell me anything I hadn't seen from higher up. Then again, my lazy eye made focusing in on details somewhat difficult. I eventually landed back in front of May to find her still quiet. “May?” I asked tentatively.

May responded by shaking her head, then looking around the ruins of the battlefield. “I wasn't actually in the first battle. The soldiers here were fighting and dying to protect our research facility as much as to hold the line at the zebra border. They didn't even know what we were doing. They only knew that Fluttershy herself was overseeing our final stages. Rainbow Dash herself was fighting alongside them, reinforcing the importance without a hint of detail. I wonder... if they knew what we were doing, would the injured have tried to hang on longer in hopes we could help them? Or would they have been all the more willing to lay down their lives to protect such an important project.”

I nodded slowly as May spoke, listening intently. It wasn't very often she spoke of her past, so I wanted to know what was going through her head. However, one thing did strike me as odd; “First battle?”

May blinked; “Didn't you know? We bungled the first megaspell. There was no way to differentiate between ponies and zebras the first time we cast it. Every single injured zebra was healed alongside our own soldiers. Even after successfully protecting us, it was our fault that the soldiers had to go through that hell all over again.”

I winced. The newspapers only described a single battle for Shattered Hoof Ridge. There had never been any mention of the megaspell test or the do over the battle received as a result. It had only stated that Equestria had been successful in defending its borders. Had that been the result of the Ministry of Image's influence? It was hard to say, it was all so long ago.

May began to cry; “It was our fault. Fluttershy tried so hard to save everyone, pony and zebra alike. All she ever wanted was for the war and violence and suffering to end. Then the zebras poisoned her wonderful gift and turned it into a weapon, leaving us no choice but to respond in kind. Fluttershy wanted to save everyone. We ended up killing everyone.” May hung her head and wept.

It finally came together. May's desire to save ponies, her self-incrimination, her desire to relive the past, her goals and motivations. Every single bit of it stemmed from what began here at this ridge. Somehow, her involvement in the project had turned itself into a personal sense of responsibility for everything that grew out of what they accomplished here. Was it maybe because she was the only one left who could be held responsible? After this long, it was hard to imagine any of the other ponies who worked on this project had survived. Perhaps that was another reason why she was feeling guilty.

“May, I... I...” I could think of nothing to say, so I just pulled her into a hug. She wept into my shoulder once more.

***

After a while, May ran out of tears. She had been shedding far too many lately. I realized that this was make or break time for her. I prayed quietly to myself that she would find something to reinvigorate her hope. I'm not sure who I was praying to at that point. The Princesses maybe? Lots of other ponies had turned to worshipping them as deities. I had still held out hope for the longest time that they had managed to get into the Canterlot Stable and were just waiting for a chance to return. However, after this long that may have been a bit more naive than my usual optimism.

May began to walk the lines of the battlefield, trying to find something. She was far too focused on finding it to inform me of what exactly what she was looking for. I didn't object; even if I could help her find it faster, I felt this was something she needed to do on her own. The trenches all looked the same to me anyways; half collapsed, filled with mud, the odd bit of shrapnel or bullet casing lying around. My lazy eye rolled towards some hoof prints in the mud that weren't our own. I wondered how old they were. When had it rained last? The distraction ended when I bumped by head into May's rear, immediately snapping me back to focus.

May had come to a stop about halfway up the ridge. We had just passed out of the fallback trenches and crossed over a machine gun bunker. At first I thought the bunker itself was what May had been looking for, but she went on past it and started hoofing at the ground in the area behind it. My assumption quickly changed to the facility she spoke of being underground. It made sense really; having a secret research facility working on a top-secret project would not have appreciated an obvious location.

May's hoof tapping was eventually met with a more hollow, metallic sound. I managed to focus both of my eyes on what May was doing, stepping aside a bit for a better view. Her horn lit up and she pulled back a patch of deadened turf, revealing a thick steel door set into the hillside. Aside from being dirty, it looked to be largely intact, although there was a fair deal of rust around the edges as well. The door was also dented and warped, undoubtedly as a result of the megaspell that hit the upper part of the ridge.

May drew my attention to a small number panel at the edge of the bunker door. “I don't even know if my old code will still work. If it doesn't-”

“If it doesn't,” I cut in, “Then we'll force it open. It's damaged already, a few good bucks might cave it in completely.”

“What if the security turrets are still working?” asked May dubiously.

I simply smirked and pulled Stronghoof's Legacy off my back. “Target practice.”

May sighed; apparently my attempt to lighten the mood hadn't played out to well. I quieted myself and let her punch in her pass code. There was a bleeping sound, followed by a screeching grinding of metal and a heavy pneumatic hiss as the door was raised on a series of pistons. May seemed genuinely shocked that it had opened at all. Admittedly, I was too; nothing ever seems to be that easy for us. Of course, the door had gotten stuck about two thirds of the way open, which forced May and I to crouch to get in, so maybe I was right after all.

Inside the door there was no light except for what was bleeding in from outside. In that light, I could only see stairs that seemed to go down quite a ways. I couldn't see where they bottomed out, so I allowed myself a little more hope for May's sake. If the facility was buried deep enough, then it was that much more likely to have survived for this long. We began to descend the stairs, May's horn provided more light as we descended, compensating for the thinning light from outside.

***

It took us a good ten minutes to reach the bottom of the stairs. Granted, about half that time was May going slowly to make sure the stairs were actually still able to support us as we went. Still, the deeper we went, the more likely it seemed that the facility might still be intact. It had probably been buried this deep to avoid taking damage from stray shells and grenades. A megaspell impact was a whole other level from that, but it was still looking a bit more plausible. Even May seemed to be regaining some sense of enthusiasm at the prospect.

When we finally reached the bottom, there was another heavy door flanked by a terminal. The terminal, astonishingly, still had power. I had gotten used to old magic generators being jury-rigged, and had even done a couple myself. The fact that this place was still running on its own though, that was a testament to the work of the MAS in the face of the power crisis. Not many ponies remember that said crisis was the original cause of the conflict that eventually destroyed Equestria.

May booted the terminal and entered what I had to assume was the old password, as the door shifted only moments later with a groan of rusted gears and a heavy thunk of deadbolts moving. We were finally met with a screeching of metal grinding on metal as the door pulled back and away, leading into a darkened chamber that the pale light from outside couldn't reach. I squinted into the darkness trying to see if there was anything there, only for May to turn on the lights from the terminal, blinding me for a moment.

When my eyes managed to refocus, my heart sank. The room was in as much a state of decay as the doors had been. My lazy eye rolled freely, taking in as much of the room as it could as quickly as I could, hoping to find something to make this worthwhile. From what I could see, all of the instruments and strange arcano-tech devices looked rusty or broken. There was a wall of dead terminals and several tables worth of shattered beakers, flasks and other chemistry equipment.

One whole corner of the massive room we now stood in was caved in. By my reckoning, it was the one facing the direction of the megaspell detonation. I could see the dented and warped form of a door on that side, presumably leading to a chamber that was now buried. There were a couple other doors leading off to other parts of the bunker, although I couldn't imagine their facilities fared any better than this main room.

I turned towards May, hoping to offer her some kind of consolation, but it was me who ended up being surprised. May was smiling. My first instinct was, sadly, to think that she had gone mad. However, there was no maniacal twitch or other sights of frustration. She did look genuinely pleased at the sight before her.

“This is amazing!” she exclaimed. “I never thought this much of it would still be intact.”

I looked around in confusion. Could May see something I couldn't? Granted, I have a wonky eye, but all I could see was a mess. “Um... May?” I began, trying to get her attention.

She turned towards me, still smiling; “Oh this is great Ditzy! Finally, it might all be worth something.”

I had to hold up a hoof to stop May; she was getting over my head again; “I'm sorry, but what's got you so excited?”

May blinked; “Right, you don't know anything about magic.” She shook her head and gestured around at the room. “There was a lot of different magical research methods employed here in the development of the megaspell structure. All of the information was stored on those terminals.” She pointed to the fried terminal bank on the far wall. “However, that's not the part I need. I already know how to form the structure of a Megaspell.”

I blinked again; I had the feeling May's mind was moving too fast for her mouth to keep up. “Okay, so what did you need?”

May continued smiling; “A megaspell... is like a framework,” she explained. “A superstructure that builds on the effect of an existing spell and amplifies its power and scope by several orders of magnitude. Essentially, it recursively multiplies the power of the magic being fed into it, resulting in something even greater than the sum of the spells the unicorns could cast individually.”

Okay, now I was starting to get it; “So, if you already know how to set up a megaspell structure, then what you need first is...”

May grinned broadly; “Correct; I need the spell upon which the framework will build. After that, it will be a simple matter of teaching the spell to some other unicorns, as well as the method for creating the casting matrix. That part shouldn't be too hard if I can salvage the information from some of these terminals to distribute.”

I smiled now. My understanding was hardly better off than it had been, but the fact that May seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect was enough for me. “So, what do you need to get started then?”

May looked around, taking in what the room had to offer. “A few specific things, and some time.”

***

Creating a new spell, I would learn, was not quite so simple as concentrating really hard and thinking about the effect you wanted to accomplish. I can't really say I understand it fully even now, so I won't bother making an effort to explain the intricacies of May's method. However, what I did gain out of it was an appreciation for why magic had been dubbed 'arcane science'. The few times May did try to explain it to me in detail was like trying to teach calculus to a six year-old. Not that I ever understood what calculus was either.

Thankfully, even though I understood absolutely none of the process involved, I was still able to lend a marginal amount of aid. By 'marginal' of course I mean fetching stuff. While this gave May time and space to focus on what she was doing, it was slow going due to the fact that rather than just naming something for me to fetch, May had to describe what it looked like and where it was in detail. However, even with that frustrating kink in the proverbial hose, there seemed to be progress.

Navigating the MoP/MAS joint bunker kind of reminded me of the couple times we had ventured into Stables in the past, albeit on a smaller scale. In the rooms that were still intact, things were typically rusty and dilapidated. Several times May's progress was halted as I brought her the device she asked for, only for her to have to instruct me on jury-rigging it due to age or wear. Time had not passed this slow since the two of us became ghouls in the first place.

Days passed, and we only really knew that thanks to May's Pipbuck, but finally she announced: “Alright, it's done.”

I dropped the bits of scrap material I had been fiddling with to look over at May. “Are you sure this time? Last time you thought it was ready...”

“Hey, you should be thanking me for that moustache,” scoffed May. “I proved I can grow your mane back. Once the spell is properly tested anyways, it shouldn't fall out.”

I nodded, then looked to her; “So, am I going to be the first test subject?” I was admittedly a bit nervous. Although the moustache incident had been amusing, you never really knew what you could expect when magic goes wrong.

May saw the hint of worry on my face and nodded; “Only if you want to be. I can't really cast it on myself though.”

I nodded and steeled myself; “Okay. Do it.”

May smiled appreciatively and lit up her horn. I immediately felt a strange tingling sensation all over my body. The best description I can offer you is that May was trying to reverse the necrosis in every single cell at the exact same time. She panted and strained, a layer of magical overglow appearing around her horn. I had to close my eyes from the brightness of the glow surrounding me. Then, all of a sudden, it faded with a pop.

I dared to open my eyes, and found May smiling at me in stunned silence. She immediately levitated over a tarnished mirror for me. She was panting and looked exhausted, but I had never seen her so satisfied. Upon looking at my reflection, I could see why. I was still devoid of feathers and hair, but my skin was no longer a blotch work of red and grey. It was a solid, albeit slightly dim, flesh colour. As well, the bits of mane and tail I had managed to keep bore a slight lustre. I couldn't help but start laughing at myself. I looked like a shaved rat.

May started laughing too. It was a wonderful sound. Joyous and echoing throughout this old, decrepit bunker. “You look ridiculous,” she noted between guffaws.

We shared a good five minutes laughing together at my appearance, but then she finally managed to quell her giggling long enough to pronounce; “Alright, I need to take a sample and see if this actually worked.

I nodded, stifling my own snickering and held out a foreleg. She plucked a small bit of skin off with a pair of tweezers and slid them onto a plate. My skin was dry, but it didn't crack or bleed, although it did sting a bit. May looked down at a the plate through a microscope. The time it took for her to respond worried me. Then, her shoulders slumped, and she turned to look at me, her eyes watering.

“It didn't work,” she said, her face contorting with emotional pain.

I blinked, then looked at the mirror again; “What do you mean it didn't work? Look at me!”

May shook her head; “It's only cosmetic. I reversed the damage caused by the cellular necrosis, but the mutation is still there. By my estimate, it will take less than a week for you to look like a ghoul again.” She hung her head and wept.

I wished I knew what to say then, but I just didn't know what went wrong.

***

Many of you in the here and now reading this probably already know that I am still a ghoul. With that knowledge, you might be wondering why I bothered to include this in the story at all? Why all this woe over something that you already knew was doomed to failure? For May's sake, and that reason alone. I wanted you all to know her last great deed. What she tried to accomplish, how close she came, and the fact that, even entering into her last hours, she only ever wanted to help poor, suffering, unfortunate ponies. Even though she failed, she did everything Fluttershy would be proud of.

I tell you this, because you may not like what comes next. I know I didn't, and I want this to be the part you remember.

Footnote: Status Update!

Current Status: Flesh coloured, but still a ghoul.
Lucidity: Moderate

Ghoul Tip: ...

Author's Note

Happy New Year! I am really sorry this took so long to put together, but well... life happens to suck sometimes. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it. You've waited plenty long enough.