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                       Dead Trotting                       
                     -by Imaginathan-                      
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                    0: Before the Pain                     
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0: Before the Pain
Try as you might, you can’t change the past. Every mistake you make is an opportunity to build for tomorrow. That’s what most ponies will go over: Learn from your mistakes. Let your misfortunes be the staircase to a brighter future. But what if you broke that staircase? I’ve always wanted to reach back in time and tell myself to quit something I should have known was a bad idea from the start. It’s always that one screw that comes loose and takes everything above down with it. You can’t go back and tighten it. But wouldn’t it be nice if you could? Imagine the possibilities.
But as reality has it, you can’t. That’s why I always like to be alone. You can’t screw up someone else’s day if you’re by yourself. Ever since I’ve started living in Ponyville, even before that, everyday was an endurance test; a test I’ve often failed. You can ask my teachers...
“Amber! You need to sit still!”
“Look at me when I’m teaching!”
“This is what?  The fifth assignment you didn’t turn in?”
Or my peers...
“Can’t you do anything without help?!”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“You’re late again. What a surprise.”
I hated school. I hated being around other ponies. I hated being outside the comfort of my sanctuary, though most of you would call it a house. Being in the open; being vulnerable as the cold air of the outside world dances on my skin. When I was home, I was shielded. Shielded by the walls of the one thing I’ve managed to keep. What happened to the rest, I’d much rather dump it somewhere in a hole before filling it with quick-dry cement.
That was me. 15 years old. Time sure flies when you don’t look at the clock. A reservoir of smaller, perhaps happier memories lay in the depths of my conscience. It would take me awhile to fish them out though, seeing as I was in a pouty mood. Every brain has its limits. It’s just that mine come earlier. I can remember everything else though. At least before that day.
CHAPTER 0: Before the Pain
The moon filtered through my bedroom window. A steady column of light shot through the darkness and connected to the floor, revealing patches of unwashed clothing and scattered, overdue paper. Winter was depressing. When it’s 5:00, it would already be pitch black outside. It feels as if school ate up too much time. Now it’s 12:00, and I can’t even shut my eyes. More than anything, I just wanted to drift off in the world of deep slumber, but anxiety made sure I was denied access.
There was a test coming. I think it was over... gah! I can’t even remember. Not that it matters. I’m barely passing my classes, and I doubt one test is going to change that. Why can’t I be intelligent? I wish there was some helmet that I could glue and hardwire to my brain so that it’s easier to study. Like that one girl. What was her name? Twilight? Why can’t I be like her? At least she and me share one thing in common. We’re both socially awkward. Though Twilight’s only a small awkward. I’m a magnificent steaming pile of awkward. For whatever reason, I find it very hard to talk to ponies I don’t know very VERY well. Every time I would, I talk very quietly, and I keep my vocabulary very narrow. It’s as if I’m too afraid to say something stupid, which is rational, because every time I do open my mouth, I do say something stupid.
Then everypony would laugh. God. Not the laughing. One pony joins in. Then another filly nudges her friend and informs her about my stupid comment. Now they start laughing. One colt goes over to see what’s going on. They inform him. He starts laughing. Soon, everypony is trying to restrain from laughing. Oh God, the laughing. I shrink in my desk and hang my head as my face turns red. It get’s worse when I’m trying to swallow my tears, clench my back teeth, and pretend I don’t care. Now everypony has a new thing to laugh at. I thrust my pillow into my face to repress the memory.
I found out when I was 7 that I've been diagnosed with something called “aspergers syndrome.” What that was is beyond me, but I guess that’s why I can only talk to ponies just as awkward as me. Maybe not in that regard, but just strange in general. Most of my friends (if you can call them that) were never that social either. After school, we would lock our rooms, flip on our computers, and regroup over chat, usually over some computer game. I wasn’t much of a gamer myself, but they pulled me into it so much that I eventually started giving myself achievements for every minor task I would accomplish. Some of em’ would even be written down.
Finally. My body was losing its tense feeling. My breathing was getting slower and deeper. I was actually going to sleep! Now all I have to do...
Is shut my eyes...
SLAM!
Just when I was about to... Forget it. I could see it coming from a mile away.
“Amber! Come on baby, get up!” My mom busted through the door, still wearing pajamas. I could even see a coffee stain on her robe.
“Mom, what is it? It’s nowhere near morning...” I rubbed my eyes to numb the pain of the sudden rush of light.
“Something’s come up! Come on honey! Your father’s waiting outside!”
“What are you talking about? Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
She started digging through my closet. Articles of clothing that I never wore slowly sank in the air before settling with the unwashed. “Get a saddle pack Amber! Take anything you can carry!” One thing’s for sure. She was panicking, but why. For some reason, I felt too afraid to ask. I slung my saddle pack over my shoulder and filled it to the buckle with a library of snacks and energy ciders. I also took the liberty of taking a pillow cause I was planning to go back to sleep quite soon. “That’s it?”
“Mom, I have nothing else.”
She placed her hoof on the back of my neck, and guided me out of my room, and towards the outside. I could barely keep up with her speed being I was so tired. I stumbled a few times before reaching the front door. It was then that I started hearing sirens. “Mom? Where’s dad?”
“I told you! He’s outside” My mom kicked the door open and let it slam against the door bell. The cheery tune echoed throughout the neighborhood before settling down. Well, she wasn’t lying. There was my dad, but why did he have a... Shotgun. “Honey! I’ve got her!”
“Well it’s about time! Come on! They’ll be here any second!”
Now I’ve finally built the courage to ask. “Who’ll be here?”
“Buses and carriages to pick us up.”
“Why? Are we going somewhere?” My dad stayed silent.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
A steel, rusty bus with illegible, scratched off advertisements pasted on each side soon stopped by our neighbor's house. I could tell it was from Fillydelphia through the design of the front attempting to mimic what I thought looked like a cruise missile. The one sending them must have run out of more aesthetically presentable versions, so they had to cash in for this ugly thing. My parents grabbed each of my arms to try and hurry me in. I stumbled a bit while trying to scale the wet, muddy stairs. Inside the wreck had not fared much better from its outside. The dark blue paint peeled off the walls uncovering even darker brown rust. The indented windows have been dominated by hoofprints left from the previous foals who have traveled with this vessel. The wet, cold seats were mummified in duct tape to prevent its wounds from getting worse, though like the paint, that was peeling off as well. But the worst part was the smell. A damp, rugged, burnt stench packed the air.That’s what you get from renting a Fillydelphia bus.
I was finally able to beat through the smell, along with the other off putting features this bus had to offer, and make my way to the back seat; the one with its window open. My mom came next, occasionally tripping over discarded luggage. My dad was about to follow till’ the driver intervened. “Sir, you can’t bring that on here.” He was referring to my dad’s remington.
“I have a family to protect! Let me in!”
“I don’t make the rules sir. If you want to complain, talk to the colts at the fort.”
The word ‘fort’ really grabbed my attention as I made my seat in the back of the bus. “Fort? Like in a war? Are the griffins invading”
The driver interjected. “You wish.” I refused to learn more.
My dad eventually caved in and tossed his gun onto our neighbors yard. He shuffled his way through the tight aisle till he reached me and my mom in the back seat. “Sorry I took so long.” He put his foreleg around both of us.
The rumble of the bus kept me from drifting. The relentless chatter of confused ponies that had squeezed inside after our stop didn’t help much either. It was impossible to just sit still. My arms and legs tensed with raw energy I welcomed in my body from one of my energy ciders. The need to stretch proved rather tiresome when I kicked the mare in front of us just enough times to aggravate her into throwing her drink at our seat. I decided to preoccupy myself by sticking my head out the window while using my moms lap for stability. The wind helped ease my stress, and the smell of fresh air was revitalizing after being stuck inside a seedy bus full of strange dirty sweaty ponies I didn't even know for a whole hour. In the distance, the city of Las Pegasus shined proudly while illuminating Luna’s night. Each bright spot manifested itself with a different color like fireworks. Every individual structure stood bearing its own personality. But the most amazing part was the tower that lay settled in the very middle, complete with glowing wings attached to the tip. The lights emitting from the cities so far away always amazed me, yet also calmed me down. The thought of one day being there; living there. It was like a dream vacation. Coupled with the radio the driver flipped on, the sight only brought tears to my eyes.
“You’re always found alone
When you need somepony the most,
You can never have a friend
When you come to need it then.
With each hoof being held
You looked me in the eyes,
Telling me it will be alright
Just one of many lies.”
Such a depressing tune. Why do these kinds of songs always play on some long road trip while cruising through the middle of nowhere. It’s as if the station is messing with us. I wished to keep it out of my head, but it was the only thing I found interesting enough to listen to. So instead of blocking it out, I embraced it; playing out a little scenario where the lyrics are acted out in my imagination.
The soothing sight was soon broken with a flash. Not one, but a good seven or eight splashes of light peppering throughout the distant city. The accompanying boom drummed against my chest and massaged my eardrums with vibration. All that came after was a steady orange glow, which I found out rather quickly was fire. “Dad? What’s... What’s going on?”
“Nothing sweetie. Just taking some precautions is all.”
“I meant over there.” I gestured my hoof towards Las Pegasus. My dad rubbed his eyes to prove to himself that this was not a hallucination driven by lack of sleep.
“It’s already happening...”
That only scared me more. “What is?”
My dad clammed up. Somehow, he thought it was for the best to not let me know. I nudged him a bit to try to ease him into answering. It looked like it was-
“WATCH THE DAMN ROAD!!!!”
The driver snapped his head forward to see a passing colt limping in front of the bus as he was illuminated by the headlights. The 24-ton taxi made a sharp turn towards the right before veering out of control. It slid sideways across the road as sparks squeezed out from under it. The stress it was put under finally became too much to bear for the skiing rust bucket, and lost its footing before rolling over. Blackness followed soon after.
Pain. Pain is what I remember. I fought with every last breath to open my eyes. Dried blood crusted around my face as dirt became logged in the wounds. My vision was blurry. Everything was glowing. Was it already morning? I replayed the words the driver said in my head: “You wish.” Let’s see what I can remember.
We’re on a bus, and somepony was on the road... We crashed. Alright, so far so good. Now for where I was. In the back seat. Amber was in... Wait... Who’s Amber? Oh yah! I am! Duh. I’m Amber... GAH! What comes after that? Forget it. It’s not the key issue. I’m sure I’ll recover later.
Eventually, my eyes adjusted to the new-found light and I could rationally make out the scenery once again. The front of the bus cracked and spurted as it recoiled in flames. Windows one by one shattered under the immense pressure of the heat. Everypony and their dog was giving it their all to pull others out from the metallic death trap. One colt who was pulled out had a piece of shrapnel stuck in his shoulder, yet he put the pain aside to rescue his friend. Talk about somepony who doesn’t take no for an answer.
I decided it was time for me to leave the rubble when a sharp crippling pain shot up my left side. I suppressed a scream by biting my foreleg. When I looked behind me, I realized I was pinned. A part of the bus had crunched up on the lower half of my body, and a large piece of glass was wedged into my leg. I quivered at the sight. It was when I noticed what was wrong that my face contorted and the pain got worse. I struggled greatly to keep myself from passing out. I was losing blood at an alarming rate, and I needed to get this fixed really quickly before A: I bleed to death, or B: The bus explodes and engulfs me in flames. Either one of those would not be a walk in the park so I called out for help before loudly choking on dirt.
“Amber?! Amber?! Where are you?! Please just call out if you can hear me!” I knew that voice. It was my dad’s. I waved my arms wildly all while trying to restrain my movement as to avoid tearing my leg open.
“Dad! I’m over here! Dad! Help me!” The smoke and dust filling the air clouded my vision and engorged my lungs with useless attempts at getting air. Thankfully, the smoke and dust was sifted away as I saw my dad’s hooves swipe the turmoil.
“Amber! Sweetie, thank God you’re alright!”
“I wouldn’t say that yet.” I could only keep one eye open cause the other was squeezing in discomfort. “There’s something stuck in my leg.” I motioned him towards my injury. He put a hoof over his mouth in shock.
“Amber! I..” My dad’s head shifted attention as the front of the bus bursted in red-hot rage. The rocking drove the shard deeper in my leg making me choke in agony. I’m pretty sure I almost broke my teeth from clenching them too hard.
“Have you found her yet?!” Now I knew my mom was okay. At least something was going right. “Amber! Oh my gosh! What happened?!” I noticed how she had some shards of her own stuck in her arm.
“Honey! Get help! Get it now before the fire spreads!” She seem to not have wanted to leave, but knew that staying would be unlikely to help. My dad secured his hooves under a popped out window in an effort to give the bus a good lift. He probably knew it wouldn’t work. This thing weighs more than all of my gym teachers. He probably did it so that if I lost my leg that he would be secure in the thought that he at least tried. From there, it was the same pattern. Lift for three seconds, then pant. Rinse and repeat.
Eventually, my mom arrived with two other colts following behind. One was a thin yellow colt with a broad jaw, bushy orange mane, and... an apron? The other one appeared to be a doctor. I haven’t seen either of them on the bus, so I was dumbfounded as to their origins. I twisted my head sideways to look past the fireball. Two, much nicer looking buses had stopped behind the wreckage to help out. Twenty or so ponies poured out from the doors to assist the injured and trapped while some stayed behind to keep on lookout. But on lookout for what?
The doctor brandished a cluster of unidentifiable tools in his hooves. Some have been drenched in blood, likely due to tending the injured. “Alright. I need something to break the glass, but not without moving it too much. Mr. Cake, I need you to find some more tools. She’s not the only one in this predicament.” The now named Mr. Cake moved to recruit some volunteers. “Stay back! I need to separate the glass from the rest of the wreckage. When that is done, make sure the glass stays where it is!”
My dad objected. “What?! Why?!”
“We don’t know if the shard has reached a major artery. If it has, and we pull it, she’ll bleed out.” The thought of me spurting out so much blood that I would turn blue and keel over made me recoil in disgust and fear. Eventually, Mr. Cake came back with probably the biggest bag of freaky tools I have ever seen. The doctor wiped out what appeared to be a drill. Okay, I guess he’s a dentist. The drill was positioned at the base of the shard. Slowly, he drilled small holes into the glass in a steady line. It appears as though he’s trying to score the glass just enough to remove it safely. He squeezed in his third drilling before a pony on lookout started to freak.
“Get away from him! He’s been bitten! Get away! He’s bloody bitten!”
“Shut up! A’m fine! It’s okay! This feller’s paranoid!”
“Yah right! Quit trying to save yourself and face bloody facts!”
The driver of our bus stepped out to survey the conflict. “Alright. What’s going on here?! You’re freaking everypony out!”
“This bloody tourist has a bloody bite wound on his bloody foreleg!”
The second colt interjected. “Shut up an’ stop saying bloody! A’m fine!”
I’ve never heard a heavier southern accent. It’s almost fake. “Just let me look at it sir. I can assure you everything is going to be fine. We just need to-” The driver was cut off as the country colt aggressively threw his hoof away.
“What! You sidin’ with the canterlot colt now?! Come on! He’s just some stuck up little shit who thinks he knows everything!”
The little exchange continued to play it’s part as the doctor (dentist) made the last few holes in the glass. “Alright. The glass should be loose enough so that it will break without incident. Mr. Cake, get me the hammer.” But before the surprisingly simple process could be completed...
“GET THIS PIECE-A-SHIT OFFA ME!”
Everypony's attention was met by the southerner with the canterlot colt’s teeth tearing through his neck. The hostile pony’s eyes brandished a blank expression accompanied by dark sunken circles. Blood clotted around his face as it leaked from his maw. The fur started falling off in patches revealing sandy cracked skin. The country colt clawed at his back desperately before his attacker’s teeth got a firm grip on his collar. A piece of raw skin and muscle left his shoulder before the road stained a rashy red from the aftermath. The southerner unsurprisingly played his thoughts on this through a shriek of agony poking through a heavy drawl. His hoof drowned in blood as it tried to suppress the new wound. “Dad! What’s happening?! Why did he-” After quickly finishing his chunk of meat, the assailant made his way towards the driver. “What was his problem? Why is he just bite that guy?! DAD! WHY IS HE-”
“I’m sorry Amber! You weren’t suppose to find out! Not like this!”
“Somepony shoot that colt! He’s one of them! Hypocritical piece of shit!” Much of the crowd paraded the same response. I didn’t want to see anymore. The nature of the attack alone has achieved a brand new level of disturbing. But it’s the same disturbance that keeps pulling me back. The colt violently twitched and gurgled as he used his now impaired mobile skills to move. As he got closer, his mouth continued to stretch open, visibly presenting a spring of bubbling chunks that has clogged his throat.
BANG!
A bullet sailed through the air, and into the threat. His head jerked before the entire back of it had been shredded into a mix of fluid and brain. He fell to the road painting the already gory mural. The driver reluctantly put a revolver back in a holster.
My dad couldn’t help but comment. “You piece of shit! I thought you said we couldn't bring guns!”
“Sir! I am an official! It's my job to protect these ponies! Not yours!”
I looked back at the canterlot colt who lay on the road. “I.. I- What?!. He’s dead! I’ve only been awake for an hour and 45 minutes and... Oh my gosh. What’s happening?!”
SNAP
The doctor finally broke me out of my glass shackle. My parents sprinted over to pull me away from the bus before it blew out...
Alright. It didn’t blow out. We must be early.
“Oh my little filly! Thank God! Oh Thank God!” My dad embraced me in his arms with my mom following shortly behind. WIth all the movement, the shard was causing more pain, though I pushed that aside. I returned the hug, but not before all of us thanked the stallion who made it possible.
He quickly returned the thanks before bringing us back to the subject. “The wound needs to be addressed immediately! Amber! That’s your name I presume.” I nervously confirmed. “Alright. I need to borrow your father for a bit. There’s more ponies in need of help. That is if it’s okay with your mother.”
My mother nodded slowly in disappointment and understanding. “Do what you must.” The doctor did just that, and pulled my dad by the foreleg towards another trapped mare.
My mom spent the next 20 minutes wrapping my leg in bandages. It curled around the glass in attempt to leave it suspended in my flesh, because somehow that’s a good thing. It looked wretched. The stained glass and already dark red tape almost made me want to tear it all off and yank the glass out. But the horrid fantasy of pints shooting out of me, even though I would have to have much higher blood pressure for it to do such a thing, made me even more uncomfortable than that. She stayed silent. I guess she ran out of ideas of what to comment on being it all would dance around the same concept: ‘The particular predicament we have found ourselves in is rather shitty.’
I glanced over at the canterlot colt. Barely. The sight of death would probably draw a less than favorable reaction from me. He lay there. Bloody, brained, and blasted. What once amounted into a simple argument turned into a grizzly gasp inducing sight I would want to wash away with acid before giving myself a lobotomy. How could this go so wrong so fast? Dad certainly won’t tell me. Maybe mom will. “Mom?”
She leaned against my head. “Yes Amber?”
“Why are we going? What are we trying so hard to avoid? Is it the same thing that happened over there?” I loosely gestured towards the canterlot colt's dead body.
Her front teeth gritted trying to make sure the word choice would be just perfect. “Amber... Do you watch the news?”
“No. Why?”
She trailed off in thought before finally answering the question I’ve been asking all night“...There’s an illness.”
Great. More body related horror. “Illness?”
“A disease that spread through Canterlot. That’s where it came from.”
“What is it?”
“I... I’m not sure. All I know is that it spreads through bites. Once that happens, a pony becomes... Well, they’re not themself.”
I dug into my memory bank to see if I have come across this information before. I do recall one of my friends showing us pictures of riots from his recent trip to Canterlot. These pictures had hundreds of ponies coloring and covering the streets from wall to wall. Fires and crashed carriages littered the scenery. The ponies themselves swimming through the decimation were caked in dirt and blood. I thought it was just some political jargon created by our news to get public attention. “Not themself? How? Like angry?”
“I... I’m not even sure what I can classify it as. They all want the same thing though, and that’s food. That’s why they bite.”
“Like... Like a zombie?”
She’s cringed at the suggestion. I think I’ve asked enough to know what we’re dealing with. An army of the sick, and their hostile. The concept couldn’t even grasp any levels of unimaginable. Here I am thinking these things would only be found in movies or games. Now they’re set in motion with one goal in mind: eat. But how? How have zombies become a reality? Everything was fine a week ago! How can a zombie being as slow as it is... Wait, it spreads through bites? That would mean the country colt-
BANG!
A thump echoed from behind me.
Me and my mom lay pressed against each other for a full nine minutes, each of us sharing the same worries. At least we still have each other. Loud and indistinguishable chatter diffused throughout the cold desert night. Which brings up the question of why we're even in the desert? Last time I checked, there wasn’t anything of large value. So many unanswered questions, and less than few answers. An overweight stallion started speaking through probably the loudest and most ear busting megaphone I’ve heard since... okay, it was my first megaphone. Sue me.
“Can I get everyone’s attention please? Can I get-” a golden-maned colt with a cowpony’s hat threw an apple at him.
“You’re crazy for bringin’ us out here! Me and my gang just flew from Appleloosa to get away from these things! Now we’re being hauled off back to pay em’ a visit?”
“Sir, Appleloosa is not our destination.”
“AH CAN SEE THE DAMN TOWN FROM HERE!” The golden maned colt gestured towards a should-have-been-obvious silhouette being complemented by a glow. “Se that shit? That’s fire!”
“Even if we are close to an infected zone, the fort is in possession of state of the art defenses and a considerably sized wall surrounding the entire city. No hostile is getting inside without us knowing it. Now refrain from your comments and let me finish.” The cowpony retreated to the back of the mini-audience. “Since that one out of three buses cease to function, the surviving passengers must be distributed evenly throughout the remaining two.” The two bus crowd groaned. “Each seat is able to fit at least three ponies. We need all the children to be seated, so that will be our first priority. I also need...”
I think I fell asleep before the guy could finish. I found myself back on an even more crowded bus full of ponies that had to be over four times my size. The one I was found next to was eating beans with his hooves. After some sauce spattered on me, I took another glance at my injury. It still hurt, so at least that means my leg still works. I looked around for my parents, though I could only see my father seated on the very back. Where was mom? “Dad?”
He snapped up from his daze surprised to see I have woken up. Unfortunately, he was too far for me to hear him over the sound of the busy bus, so he acknowledge his noticing me with a complimentary wave. I waved back, though not without a hint of worry.
The windshield flared a bright white, making it nearly impossible to see. A stern voice shot towards our direction.
“Attention! All buses must slow to 25 miles per hour or under before approaching the fort. All violators may not enter Fort Howard until the following has been accomplished.”
The light retreated back to its regular duties. Before shuffling and more or less arguing with the bean pony, I stood atop his head to peek out through the window once again. The bus finally came to a stop before my jaw fell to its knees.
A massive, dam like structure rose from the sands of the deathly desert. Beyond it, pillars that tore through the sky while breaking the dark of the night with a disco of searchlights. At the front, buses from what I presume are from all around Equestria parked side by side while guiding its passengers towards the biggest (and only) entrance. The entrance itself however was obscured by military post and building equipment. I guess when it’s finished, I’ll be equally enthralled.
The drop from the last stair to the floor had been more than I anticipated. I stumbled once again before dropping my saddlepack. And now we have all those ciders rolling under the bus. What a waste of bits. My dad followed me out, probably just as astonished as I was. “Amber, don’t go too fast! Let me catch up!” Like I could go any faster. I had 8 inches of glass stuck in my leg. Once I got this removed, I’d probably celebrate with fireworks and giant waffles.
There was one question which has yet been answered, and I’m not going to let more of those hang around much longer. “Dad? Where’s mom?”
He appeared to be checking us in with the colts who ran the fort. He angled his head to catch me in his peripheral vision. “There wasn’t enough room on our bus, so she was moved to the second. Don’t worry honey. She’ll be fine.” All right. Stress levels down. So far, things are looking up.
Now that I’ve stopped worrying, I could finally focus on this structure we’ve worked so hard to get to. It’s a shame that we can’t see behind that wall, though that mystery will be resolved shortly once we get inside. I hope it’s not too different from our own place, and even then, I hope we don’t stay for very long. Perhaps a week, maybe two. It’ll be like a little vacation, but with glass and zombies. Now to knock out another question. “Dad, one more thing.”
“Yes Amber?” He smiled to lighten the mood, but not without his eyes displaying a bit of sadness.
“When we crashed, the impact knocked my head a bit, and I forgot my last name.”
He handed the suited colt an ID. “Amnesia, eh?” I nodded. “Oh you silly filly. Your last name is-” The fort colt motioned my dad to step away from the crowd. “Sorry Amber. Got to check with this pony. Be right back, and don’t move too much. We still have that leg to deal with.” I nodded back, but not without a hint of disappointment.
So I spent the next half-an-hour sitting on a single rock on the side of the road. The entertainment I had here: A pile of small stones of which I individually threw a couple of times to see how long it would stay in the air before landing in the sand with a strangely satisfying thud. The only thing I could think about, however, was mom. I really hope she’s okay. What if dad only made that story up to make me feel better? What if he just outright lied and in truth had seen her get hurt? No. He wouldn’t do that. He’s a stallion of faith. He wouldn’t pull something like that. Not with his own daughter.
For reasons not so unknown, the reassurance irritated me even more. Though what would you expect when it’s coming from yourself. Oh come on Amber. What’s there to worry about? Mom is a strong mare. She can take care of herself. I mean, she has me as her child, and I’m more than enough of a mess that any walking sick colt would be.
At least I’ve still managed to keep my pillow. And the fact that I’ve even found my saddlepack after that crash is something I should be grateful for. Sometimes, when I had nothing to do, I’d hug my pillow, go to sleep, and pretend I’m somewhere else. It’s always that one island away from anypony else save the ponies who can actually deal with me. The sun would warm the air and ease the tension I had in my muscles. I would then look back at the city in the distance, and appreciate how far I’ve come in accomplishing my own personal paradise. But then reality starts kicking in. And as of course, it’s never a good thing. But then again, who uses the word reality in good context?
My dad emerged from the crowd of ponies now congesting the road. A smile crossed my face before I noticed how his own smile was upside down. He walked over to the rock I was on and sat next to me on the dirt floor, looking very heavy-hearted. “Amber...” I turned my head towards him to acknowledge his presence. “Your mother is being taken to a different fort.” See? Reality is never good!
“Wha-wai-WHAT?! What do you mean different fort?! What happened! I thought she’d stay with us!” I stood on top of my stone seat to emphasize my disapproval, attempting to demonstrate some authority over the situation.
“That’s what I thought too, but this fort had recently ran out of room. There’s no reservation for her.” He put his head in his folded forearms to hide his anguish. It wasn’t working well.
“Ran out of room? As in it’s just us?! Dad! We won’t have mom?!”
My dad stood up to get a good look at our fort. “Amber, I promise you that I will get this sorted out. We’ll see her again in no time. We just need to push a little harder.” That’s my dad. Never gives up. This can both work in our favor, or in our failure. Though I was pretty well equipped to deal with that. What I wasn’t planning on dealing with, however, was the screaming unicorn mare on the intercom.
“Attention citizens and Fort Howard staff! The infected in the Appleloosan area are on the move towards this direction! We need an immediate lockdown of the entire complex in ten minutes! I repeat! We need an immediate lockdown of this area in ten minutes!”
The blonde colt from before loudly proclaimed how accurate his assumption was before getting his group and making a run for the entrance.
Panic erupted in the span of a split second. Screams scarred the very air while attacking the ears of the beholder. Standard procedure became irrelevant as the remaining outsiders swarmed the entrance to reach safety, leaving the staff entirely powerless to calm the outburst All I could do was watch from my crude pedestal in a completely blank state of mind. It’s as if I need time to process what’s happening. I got a reboot from my dad’s hoof scooping me off the rock ready to swivel through the messy crowd. “Dad! Wait! What about mom!” It was hard to strain my voice so I could be heard over the crowd.
“We’ll find her later Amber! We need keep you safe!” He bucked through the tumbling turmoil all while speaking to me reassuring that he hadn’t forgotten his mission. I could barely hear my dad talk, much less see. The only thing connecting me to him were his hooves which have bashed against many other hooves trying to accommodate to the same situation. Each pony we passed unto itself was an achievement. We’re probably more in danger of being trampled than being eaten.
But all was not well in reality as a sprinting colt climbing on top the mass of pony fell and crashed right into my side. I snapped a bit before regaining my senses. But that feeling started fading for some reason. Why... Why do I feel so light-headed. Why does my leg feel all sticky and wet- oh god...
The shard which has been stuck in my leg for some time had come loose from the impact. Now there was nothing keeping the blood from gushing out of the deep wound that had been torn open from the collision with the panicking colt. My blood slapped against the other ponies running beside me, painting the scene of what should have been done by a zombie. My blood loss was now starting to hurt.
Now it was my turn to panic. My heart rate and breathing quickened, aiding my fluids escape from my limb. My vision began to blur, occasionally lapsing back into rational quality. My dad hoisted me up on his back, not knowing what went wrong until the blood spread across his face. “Amber!? WHAT HAPPENED?!” I couldn’t speak louder than the mob as I felt the need to conserve as much oxygen as I could. Dad quickly grasped the severity of the situation and tackled through the oncoming chaos now fueled by fear and adrenalin. Several ponies tried to halt his progress to save their spot, but to no avail. He went from earth pony to raging bull in a matter of seconds. I braced his neck tightly trying to keep myself from tumbling to the ground and being trampled. My arms however started to get looser. Soon, they became numb as to where it was hard to tell if I still had control over them or not.
The ground I had my head somewhat hung over cleared of hooves and dust as we approached the front of the fort. The light lit the pavement while the shadows of the staff decorated the road. I could only distinguish a couple of words, though I knew what they would be over.
“...is she bit...”
“no...help...get a doctor...”
“...please...”
I felt my body jerk up as I fell into the grasp of who appeared to be an emergency worker before I felt a plush sensation against my back. I didn’t need to look to know I was on a stretcher. It started to rumble as it wheeled by on the still bumpy road. My eyes slowly shut before I saw my dad take off in the opposite direction.
The sudden intrusion of light stung my eyes. I moved my hoof in front of my eyes to shield myself from its unwelcome majesty. Small shots tugged on my arm keeping it from being of anymore use. The smell of alchohol and filtered air brought me too as my eyes finally adjusted to the new environment. A thin blanket covered the lower half of my body. Various fluids have been hardwired to my sides while being hung on a drip stand. Quite a couple of them actually. I unmasked my body to judge the damage to my leg. It had been wrapped in medical tape, concealing the wound from the outside. I could feel the stitches while moving it.
In front of my bed, a nurse mare stood washing her hands next to a batch of small pancakes and orange juice. She turned around to attend to her regular duties before noticing my coming to. “Oh! You’re awake!” She trotted on over to my side before examining me closely. “You’re very lucky to be all right. You know that, right?” I got up to break out of my plastic baggie prison before I quickly fell to the floor. “Hang on a minute!” She hoisted me up back onto the bed. “You’re not exactly in top physical condition to walk. You need to rest, and eat something for crying out loud.” She handed me the breakfast tray which I placed to the side.
My eyes were still in a state of discomfort, so it fared to be rather difficult to look at her directly. “Where... Where are we?”
“You’re inside our clinic. Your dad busted through that crowd to take you here. You should be very grateful for a father like that. Welcome to Fort Howard!”
The only thing I heard was ‘dad.’ So naturally, I reacted to the word accordingly. “Where’s... Where’s my dad? Is he outside?”
The nurse placed her hood on my forehead before I brushed it off. “Your dad went to go get your mother. He told me to tell you as soon as you woke up that he’d be back in no time.”
I didn’t know whether to feel stressed or completely crushed. On one hoof, he kept his promise and went to look for mom. On the other hoof, he stuffed me here and took off without a word. “My dad... Is he okay?”
With a daughter like you, I wouldn't be surprised if he came back in ten seconds flat! Don’t worry hun. He’ll be here with your mother before you know it. We even have the fort officials especially stage up for their inevitable arrival. They’ll be in without a hassle. It’ll be alright.”
That tune started playing in my head again...
With each hoof being held
You looked me in the eyes,
Telling me it will be alright
Just one of many lies.
...
And that’s what it was... A lie. I hadn’t seen my parents in over two years. That's where my story begins; the end.
DEAD TROTTING
A post-pandemic fanfic by Imaginathan
Achievement Unlocked!
Exposition Fairy:
Let Amber sulk a bit before the story begins.
All Aboard!:
Get on the bus.
Zombie Crossing:
Survive the crash.
Welcome to Fort Howard:
Reach the fort.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                     1: Fort of Glass                      
//-------------------------------------------------------//
1: Fort of Glass
CHAPTER 1: Fort of Glass
AMBER:
You know what bothers me most? Being misguided through the thought of reward. Every step you take throughout the day is made in hope that it will lead to an optimistic outcome. Unfortunately, I knew better; a rare occurrence. Watching the other ponies gallop on by giggling with a smile on their face, content with the idea that there’s something left to look forward to, knowing it’s all in vanity; It’s a new form a torture.
So here I was; waiting in a line of four. I waddled a bit to vent some excess energy I had inherited from a recent can of Appleseed Speed. Peering around for some form of entertainment, I moved my vision to two giggling unicorns. It appears as though they didn’t enjoy the sun very much, being they were having a friendly game of capture-the-umbrella. I never enjoyed the day. It’s always too hot. I could barely keep my eyes open because the sun is always fixing to be the center of attention. At least they enjoyed the morning the way I never have. When I wake up, the only thing I would ever looked forward to was going back to bed.
“Alright, next in line! Come on! We don’t have all day!”
Ugh. I should probably explain what’s going on. We’re doing this irksome check up required for anypony who-
“You! Your name!”
The thin pony greeting me happens to be our nurse. Regrettably on the ‘officials’ part, she attains to be both insolent, and ugly. I’m not talking about her face. Of all the features and aspects anypony has authority over, their face isn’t one of them. The ugliness stems from how she has quite possibly the most repulsive taste in fashion my eyes have had the displeasure of witnessing. Let me illustrate this the best I can, because I don’t want to be the only one to have this burned into my memory. She has a fluffy, neon purple scarf that coils down to her tail, wings with at least 8 different piercings... each... and a hat with multi-colored feathers she probably found scavenging the floor of a new age, pegasus barber shop. She also has presumably 10 pounds of light blue eyeshadow, and green (yes, green) lipstick that she might as well have put on in her sleep. You think a nurse would be dressed in white wearing a lab coat or something of the sort. But no; I get to have a nurse who wears a peacock on her head. She reminds me of a toucan though, so peacock isn’t the right word.
“Your name, miss!”
I stuttered slightly before answering. “Um... my name’s Amber.”
“Amber? Amber what?” I froze in cold sweat. It wasn’t over. It can never be over, can it.
“I... I don’t know my last name mam.”
“How do you not know your last name? Were you dropped or something?”
Please... just leave me alone.
“Hey? Do you understand Equestrian, or are you too dumb for that too? The big colt needs to check his list again, cause this sure ain’t a scavenger I’d lay my life upon.”
“Mam, I was already called in by the administration. I think I don’t need to give up any other part of my name...” Confident with my word choice, I let a small smile cross my face.
“That’s not my point! My point is if you’re unaware of even something as trivial as what comes after ‘Amber,’ you shouldn’t even be for this position!” For whatever reason, she felt the need to prove she was right through ROYAL CAPS LOCK. “Tell me, what other bits and pieces of information have you found unrecognizable? Can you eat on your own? Have you passed the second grade? You’d make a great playmate for my daughter. She’s three, by the way.” This is usually the part where I start to cry. “But I can’t change what your parents built. So forget you. NEXT!” But you’ll have to wait for that.
I’m not sure why she felt the need to berate me on the grounds of not knowing my last name. I’m guessing it’s part of the job. She’s under constant pressure, and doesn’t possess any free time to exercise unwanted emotions. Either that, or shots of ego came with her other worldly attire.
I soon found myself in a white room with tile flooring and glass-like, metallic walls, each side bearing multi-purpose monitors. Today’s purpose would be to show how ‘fit-for-duty’ I am which is done through scanning. You couldn’t see it doing that though, which I find a bit unnerving. On one side,  the screen captures my heart rate, and breathing. The other one is for processing information like previous employment, or criminal records. On the far end was a glossy metallic desk. Behind the polished counter sat with a short, snub, tawny colored colt wearing a dark grey suit. It’s also worthy of noting how he has hair on every part of his body, save the top of his head.
“Ah! A new volunteer! It’s been awhile since we’ve had this position filled!”
Attempting to avert myself from his upcoming palaver, I entertained myself to the immaculate display of the office he occupied. It was one of those uber-secure rooms that would normally be used for ‘official business,’ but as I have learned, it’s useful for many other purposes. For example: Imprisoning me.
“Amber, eh? Take a seat.”
I wasn’t surprised to find out there was no seat, reason being tighter budget. So I took the liberty of sitting on the freshly cleaned, prestigious, sandstone floor.
“This is a big day I’ll tell you what! This be how you’ll repay the forts, and show just how important this job is. This might be a bit uncomfortable, but nothing compared to what you’d face out there!”
Out there... Out there is where THEY are. The victims; Shambling, hungry, undead ponies who feast upon anything with a pulse. They don’t sleep. They don’t drink. They don’t speak. All they do is wander. That’s the fate of anypony unlucky enough to be left outside the fort.
Oh great. Now you’re probably gonna ask “what’s a fort?” A fort is “an established refugee camp built by the Equestrian Administration of Health and Safety (E.A.H.S).”  When the sickness broke out, Celestia’s military was too incompetent to handle it properly. Soon it grew out of control, and eventually bleached the landscape of civilization. The ones who somehow managed to stay alive made way to the forts. These were put in place for this type of situation: We lost.
I looked around to examine the structure and refresh my memory. I’ll tell you one thing, these camps were made to last. They’re well built, and have been well kept since the onset of the plague. It’s also cleaned regularly for obvious reasons. The fort stays safe by surrounding itself with a colossal stone wall, which obviously acted as a barrier to the outside world. My job of course was cleaning it. The E.A.H.S. also was looking into ways to run off their own power grid. Eventually, they’ve emerged to the conclusion that steam was the best approach, hence the reason most buildings are linked through a series of pipes and gears. In a way, it gives the place some personality.  But with the benefits, it shares a fair slew of problems that all forts (especially this one) have to deal with almost everyday.
“I’m telling you: You’re going to be Fort Howard’s next big thing! Even the E.S.A. will put you in the papers.”
Ugh. The E.S.A. stands for Equestrian Succession Administration. These are the ponies who took over once Celestia was out. Nothing more than an assembly of business tycoons and politicians who take their sweet time sensationalizing how great the new fort system is. But when you’re still alive, you can’t really complain now, can you?
“We also need you on your A-game once you’re out there. We’ve got a canteen and lunch box packed by the door. There’s also a glock, though you wouldn’t need that... much.  Be vigilant! There’s probably a store or two you can swipe from and bring back here! That’s what scavengers are for, and why we treat them with the highest regards!”
Now it gets even worse. Scavengers are ponies selected by the administration to gather food, water and supplies. These ‘specially selected ponies’ aren’t actually much different  from any other colt or filly. The administration just slaps that label on to make them feel better about being cast outside the fort. I personally like to call them fish hooks, cause that’s what they do; fish for food and reel it back. But they do have regulations. A scavenger, under no circumstances, should ever be under the age of 17. But as dumb luck has it, I turned 17 the day before.
Most forts have these fish hooks, but Fort Howard is the only one I know of that actually requires them. Why? Well because if you were here, the blistering heat, endless sandy expanse, and the constant need to satisfy yourself with fresh liquid water would tell you you’re in the middle of a desert. Why that location? Simple: Low population. Less ponies equals fewer victims.
The bald colt escorted me to a room adjacent to the one I was just in. This room was darker, and much smaller. There were no windows, and was lit by only a single light hanging above an assembly of different tools. These tools consisted of a steel bar attached to the wall, and rubber extension just above it. On the floor were horseshoes with straps bolted to the floor. Standing beside them was a taller stallion with a gas mask and white coat. He pressed his hooves against my neck to feel my pulse. He then moved over to stand by the only other thing in this room save the contraption and the light: A miniature oven with an iron rod hanging out.
“Now just buckle your hind legs to this...” With the need for scavengers, there’s the need for identification. “Bite down on this...”  When, or if you come back, they want to make sure you’re a registered member of the fort. “Get a good grip of this with your hooves...” And they want to make sure it’s 100% authentic. “Now hold still...” And what better way to do that than branding. “Here we go!”
The gas masked pony pulled the long iron rod out of the oven  and pressed it against me. The red-hot metal iron stamp met my flank with a sizzling stir of burning fur and cooking skin. The pain shot up through my spine, and out my mouth. Biting hard against a rubber extension, I attempt to repress my screams, though I could tell that I was doing a real shitty job. Sweat rolled down my coat as I fought myself to not take off a run, though that was unnecessary since I was fastened to the floor. After about a few more seconds, the stamp left my flank, leaving behind a black ‘FORT HOWARD,’ and a relieved little filly.
The days after that were spent rubbing the tender spot that was left from the initiation. I imagine I looked real silly doing so, though I didn’t care much. Walking through the newly cleaned streets of Fort Howard, I was sent by my roommate to do her summertime shopping. She was a nice mare, but she can be a little picky sometimes. Her name was Lily. She used to live in Ponyville selling flowers, but of course the whole zombie apocalypse thing got in the way. According to Lily, her friends died in the initial outbreak. I can’t really relate to her due to the fact that I didn’t necessarily have legitimate friends prior to said outbreak.
“Excuse me! Sir!”
Gesturing for the salespony’s attention, I’ve managed to be his 10th customer for the morning.  Lucky me. The magazine of today was an assortment of E.S.A. approved television guides, E.S.A. approved news, upcoming E.S.A. events, traditional E.S.A. propaganda, and new ways to order a 100 bit pass to decorate your dorm with one additional item (that’s E.S.A. approved of course). Weird. Ponies actually read this garbage?
“What was that miss?”
“Wha-?! OH! NOTHING NOTHING! Hehe...” I blushed a bit hoping I have successfully hidden my previous comment.  Me and my big mouth.
“It’s alright ya’ silly filly. I don’t like them books too much either.”
A bit out-of-class accent for a fort colt, but anypony that shares my opinion is the closest I’ve ever gotten to an actual friend, and I don’t even know this guy’s name. Sure, Lily might fit into the acquaintance category, but I would never be able to replace the friends she lost.
Next on my to-do list would be a dorm renewal certificate. WIthout this, both me and Lily would be promptly escorted (kicked) out of our room (closet). It pains me that I had to cough up 400 bits every month just  so one of us would have the privilege to sleep in a bed, but if it gives me a false sense of life returning to the way it was, I’d give up any amount of spare coinage. I entered the establishment believing I was ready to face the worst.
It was a large, spacious room with a clear glass ceiling. Each side of the room consisted of 40, maybe 50 booths with mares and stallions waiting to pay for their property. Each booth was occupied by an almost statue like pony sorting out files and checks with a light blue, see-through, holographic tablet with a metal frame. It’s one of the standard pieces of equipment most personnel and even some civilians have. I made my way to the one that looked like it had the shortest line.
Wow. Even the shortest line took a solid hour to shrink. I wanted to leave the single file prison and stretch my legs, but I didn’t want to lose my place. There hasn’t been this long of a wait since the Apple Family started selling their cider. Finally, my turn came. I turned on the tablet fixed to the wall, and tapped in my name. Using my muzzle, I fiddled around my bag for my I.D. to prove that this was my account.
“You’re short.”
When I- “...wait, what?!”
“You. Are. Sho-”
“I know what you said! Are you serious? I’ve fallen flat after working 18/24 hours scraping God knows what off the sides of the fort wall for two months?!”
“Yes.”
If there is one thing I would strip from the Fort Howard’s employees above anything else, it would be their blunt attitude. “Mam, if you give me and my roommate more time, I’m sure we’ll-”
“You’re out.”
I froze. “...what?”
“You and your friend are now officially evicted from your quarters. You have 48 hours to gather your belongings and move out. Any remaining property afterwards will become E.S.A. property, and quickly confiscated.”
I averted my gaze from her face to the placement of her right foreleg. Under it was the small tablet computer. Without a hint of hesitation, she marked me and Lily off the dorm roster. We were now legally homeless.
I was in full-blown panic mode. I needed to salvage the situation somehow. “You’re not even going to consider-” But of course, like always, she just cuts me off.
“No. Next in line please.”
“But-”
“No. Next in line please.”
It’s weird how she thought I would just abandon hope and leave. “Please mam! It was a mistake!  Everypony makes mistakes! Surely you can let off one more-”
“No. Next in line please.”
A green stallion with a ball cap who was waiting behind me made his way up to the receptionist.  “All right. Here’s my bits. I have to buy the two suite deal for my wife, so if you could-”  I kicked the colt in his side just hard enough to knock him on to the ground. There was no way I was going to leave this line without a second chance.
“Mam! This is crazy! I’ve been working almost nonstop for two months trying to earn those 400 bits! I know I should have them! I even wrote it down! I haven’t even had time to comb my mane!” I tried to emphasize the look of my messy, coffee-colored mane.
“Wall maintenance wage has been cut as of yesterday. You only have 200 bits. As for your mane, that’s not my problem.”
“200 bits?! Holy shit! They’re allowed to dock my pay by that much?!”
“Yes. Next in line please.”
The ball cap stallion resumed. “Okay. So my wage doesn’t cover two pony rooms. I would like the deal to fix that. I have been an E.S.A. employee for a year. That means I should-”  I bucked him again to shut him up.
“I am not leaving this place until I get a fair shot!”
“Fine. I’ll call security.”
“What?! No! You can’t-”  She started up her tablet. “I need officers at booth 51. I repeat, I need-”
Before she could finish, I kicked the accursed machine out of her hooves. It was suspended in the air for a good second till it met the floor with a glass shattering greeting. Once more, I tried to reason with her, but it was met with the same response.
“No. Next in line please.”
I’m telling you, it took all my willpower and 28 hours without sleep to keep myself from kicking this mare to the damn moon. She’s almost robotic; incapable of any feeling or emotion. Though it’s not like the administration hasn’t displayed similar behavior before, but I thought it would be kept more discrete than this. It makes me wonder how they treat their friends, siblings, or even children. I feel sorry for the poor filly or colt who would have her as a mother.
By now, the officers have already made it to this floor. I pleaded, no, begged the mare to let me have some time, but she kept her stoic expression and stone solid demeanor. The officer grabbed my shoulder started to speak. “All right missy! Now you’ll have to pay for your debt, and the tablet!”
“Come on! Give me a break!” I pouted as I tried to shake his grip off, but that proved to be a futile attempt, seeing as he’s already gotten another officer to back him up on holding me down.
“We ain’t a charity! Stop resisting, or I’ll be forced to taze you!”
I really didn’t care. I needed that money. We couldn’t move into a cheaper room. That was the cheapest room there was, and now I couldn’t pay for it. I bit down on one of the officer’s forelegs.
Why? Why did I think that was a good idea?
A sharp pain shot through my side. I let out a short gasp (or choke), and was instantly subdued. I felt my legs drag against the floor as the two officers carried me by my arms, and tossed me out onto the sidewalk. The last thing I remember was curling up into a ball and crying.
Unsurprisingly, Lily showed her take on the whole debacle with her traditional panic attacks, but when your new bed is a cardboard sheet on the side of a supermarket, you couldn’t blame her. I tried to keep my composure to the best of my abilities, but the way the E.S.A. operates... It’s almost unreal.
“..and then next, they’re gonna throw us out of our boxes, and then out of the fort and THEN leave us for dead! I thought you had it all under control!” Lily was right. Earlier that week, I told her that I would be able to pay for our room. She trusted me, and I almost trusted myself as well, but of course I screwed everything up, like I always do.
“I’m working on it right now! Just calm down, Lily!” To rescue some optimism from our predicament, I shifted through the discarded papers laying on the floor for some answers. Finally, I found yesterday’s paper. There was the headline.
“WALL MAINTENANCE MANAGER CUTS PAY IN HALF! Hundreds of un prepared ponies and their families rocket in rage as they discover their significantly lighter load!”
I scanned the column a good three times. How did I not know this till now? Why hasn’t someone alerted me of this? Why didn’t my boss let me know he would bash my paycheck into the ground?!
“Lily? Can you get the phone?”
“I tried that already! The administration cut off our power! We can’t use anything here!”
“Even water?!”
“They cut all of it! They want us out today too thanks to your outburst! I thought you earned enough bits to keep us in!”
“I thought that too! I didn’t get as much as I thought... I’m sorry Lily. Really, I am. If there was anything I could do, I’d do it in a heartbeat, even if only for you.”
“And look where that’s gotten us...”
That last comment hit me hard. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I tried, something faulty was always trailing behind me. It happened pre-zombies, and it happens post-zombies.  It’s as if the they were never there. I’m still me, and I hated it.
I didn’t want to sleep that night, even though this would be the last time I’d use this bed before being ‘evicted.’ Lily, however, welcomed the idea of passing out on the bed. I’m guessing it’s because she spent what was left of her energy flying off the handle.
What could I do...?
I could buy back the room, but that would mean that both of us would have to work full-time without breaks, and that would be with some job that involved putting Lily outside. Even then, we would still need to pay for the food and water. What if somepony was living there by the time were done? We couldn’t buy it back, and even if we could, that would mean kicking the occupant out onto the streets. I wouldn’t want somepony to suffer because of me.  It’s occurred too many times before.
Yawn...
Getting tired. It’s hard to keep my eyes open. Maybe I could sort this out... Tomorrow...
...
NO! I needed to sort this out NOW! I can’t sleep! Yaaaawn... No! Quit it brain! Haven’t you caused enough trouble already! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwn... NO! SHUT UP! WORK WITH ME FOR THIS ONE TIME!
Not working! It’s getting harder to...
I can’t...
Got...
To...
Help...
Lily...
BOOM!!
“GAH! WHAT?!”
In a cold sweat, I broke out of my blanket prison to survey the after effects of the noise. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, though I was a bit concerned; Especially when the intercom turned on.
“Attention! Attention! E.S.A. officials are needed in block number D! Repeat! E.S.A. officials are needed in block number D!”
Normally, I would throw a fit over how they referred to ‘D’ as a number, but I had much bigger problems to deal with now. What was that sound? An explosion? A gunshot? I needed to know more.  Much to my body’s dismay, I crawled out of my comfy sanctuary to try to wake Lily. Unfortunately, she was still sound asleep, even after shaking her to the point where she fell off the bed. I needed noise. Loud noise. Loud like-
BOOM!!
…
Still asleep. You’re kidding me.
“ATTENTION! WE NEED ALL PERSONNEL IN BLOCK NUMBER B! I REPEAT! ALL OFFICIALS UNDER BLOCK NUMBER B!”
That intercom broadcast was even more panicked than the last. Something was wrong, and it was getting worse. “Lily! Please wake up! I think something’s gone off the wall here!” Even with joint effort of borderline screaming and frantic shaking, I still couldn’t pull her away from the forceful grip of the sandmare. I wish I had time to come up with another solution before the room lit red and the intercom switched speakers.
“Attention residents of Blocks B-E, we have initiated a level one lockdown. We assure you that there is no need for panic, and the E.S.A. will handle this emergency with first-class efficiency. Until then, all rooms lit with a red light need to have its occupants remain within it until the light is off.”
Ironically, that was what I felt as our cue to get out of here. I hoisted Lily up onto my back (and of course she just had to be heavier than the bed she was sleeping in) and sneaked out of my bedroom door.  Afterwards, I peered down the hallway and noticed an unsettling trend. All doors throughout it were lit red; Every single one. This was more than a level one lockdown.
More or less grunting along with the mare on my back, I made way to the main lobby. It wasn’t much of a lobby though, being it only had a couple of chairs and one desk with a computer. Nopony was there, so I assumed they took the earlier announcement seriously. I didn’t even make two steps until the lights went off, and now I was in total darkness.
“Yaaaawn..... Amber? What are you doing...?”
Figures she wakes up when the light go off. “Lily! We need to get out of here! Somethings up. I don’t know what yet, but it’s pretty serious.” Relieved, yet somewhat miffed, I dumped the emerging mare off my back and onto an involuntary wake up call using the hard marble floor.
“Ow! Amber?! Why’d you do that?!”
“Did you not hear my last comment?”
“Something bad right?”
“Partly...” Our little argument was soon interrupted when a noise leaked from outside the glass door.
“Somepony help! My friend! He’s been attacked!”
Motioning Lily to stay behind (no sure why though), I kicked open the doors to assist the frightened colt shaking in the streets outside. “What’s wrong? Is this about the explosion or whatever that noise I heard earlier was?”
“I don’t know! I got a holo-scroll saying it was some sort of machinery mishap, though I can’t be sure! That’s not the point anyway! You gotta help me! My friend's been attacked by, eh, I don’t know!  Some drunk! I need a doctor! I think he’s getting worse!”
“Getting worse? As in ill? Or is he bleeding?”
“Does it matter?!”
“Actually, it does! Unless the attack is still happening, the phrase ‘getting worse’ wouldn’t work with a traditional injury. If he’s bleeding, I need to get some bandages-”
Graaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhh...
Interrupted by a low growl, we both turned our heads to the source. The producer stood motionless in the night, though occasionally bobbing a bit to keep balance. He was a broken looking stallion with spiky hair, dirty coat, and a tired pale face. His skin was hideously discolored, and his eyes were complemented with a dark circle under them.
“Blue Blazer! You’re okay! I thought you were really hurt!” His now relieved friend trotted over to check how he was. He hasn’t journeyed to close to him, for it didn’t take him long before he knew it wasn’t exactly him. Not anymore. “...Blue Blazer?”
Another stallion, white coat and lemon mane, zipped past me, carrying a bag of medical supplies.  He however, misjudged the distance between him and the now named Blue Blazer, and smashed directly into the colt and dropping his supplies along with him.
“Oh dear! I’m so sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry and-”  Before he could finish the first sentence, Blue Blazer leaned in, opened his mouth around the poor colt’s neck, and bit down hard. The night filled with his screams.
The carnivorous stallion severed a chunk of his neck into his mouth. Fresh blood flung out from the torn piece of flesh and was spilled on the paved gravel road. The wound gushed and spurted as even more blood was pumped from of him as his heart beated. Me, Lily, and the attacker’s friend watched the whole display in horror. Blue Blazer wanted to dive in for seconds, but his victim managed to pull out a small handgun out of his medical bag, and shoot him in the dome. Bits of skull and brain matter were ejected through the exit wound. Even more of the red fluid painted the road, and his attacker fell with a thud. What was a doctor doing with a handgun?
Blue Blazer's body laid there on the road; blood leaking out of his head from the wound. His friend wanted to throw in a comment, but instead took off running. The doctor fell aswell, likely due to blood loss.  He convulsed a bit as he tried to breathe.
“Sir! Are you okay! I have some bandages in my room!”
He extended his hoof. “Don’t come any closer...”
His words frightened me. “What...?”
“I... I’m infected. It’s too late for me.”
The word ‘infected’ hit me like a brick. Now I knew exactly what this was, and frankly, I wish I didn’t. The illness that tore Equestria to pieces was back. I don’t know how, but it was. “Sir, let me help you! There has to be-”
He cut me off. “Did you not hear me?! I SAID GO! BEFORE I TURN INTO-!”  The colt choked on his own blood before he could finish. He grabbed at his throat trying to subdue the pain he was in. The colt’s limbs shook violently as the brain slowly lost more and more blood. His movements became more and more stiff before his body finally gave up. The colt died quietly on the street as the grizzly scene painted the road.
Panicking. That’s the sum of what happened next. Me and Lily had the same idea: Find the nearest E.S.A. station, and stay there. They’ll know what to do, though that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll do it.  I urged my recently wakened roommate to keep up, but she hasn’t been the one to work out, and admittedly, neither was I.
“Come on Lily! The station is just past this warehouse!”
“Easy for you to say! I’m not the one hyped up on some back-shelf energy cider!”
“Come on! I haven’t had a drink of that since last morning! GAH! That’s not the point! If you don’t keep a constant speed that’s over 5 miles an hour, more of them might show up!”
“We only saw one, Amber. I’m sure this is an isolated incident.”
I half expected 10 of them to show up after that comment. “It still needs to be reported though.”
“When were you one to follow E.S.A. procedure?”
“I’m not. I just think it’s the most rational thing to do. We don’t have any sort of firearm. Plus, if there comes a time where we catch up on a fleet, even with a gun, the only thing to result from that is a free meal.”
Assuming she understood what I was conveying, I sped up my hooves a bit to compensate for lost time. Eventually, we did manage to reach the last stretch leading to the station. Never have I thought I would be so happy to switch my focus back to the rent deal after this was over. I’ve only spent a half an hour with this breakout, and I’ve already seen a pony die.
“We’re here. Lily, prep up a phone in case this turns to shit.”
“Can’t. They cut our network access too.”
“Cut our netw-  Whatever! Just stay close to me. Soon we can...” Coming up the hill, I’ve managed to escort my friend to its top and indulge upon a good view of the station, only... It wasn’t a station.
Fire. Fire is what I remember most; a large plume of smoke and ash rising from the side of the large factory complex named E.S.A. EMERGENCY STATION. Lit by the fire we’re around 150 lumbering ponies surrounding the entirety of the building, acting as a fleshy, rotting barrier to the outside world. I also remembered shooting; streams of continuous gunfire echoing from the interior of the building. I could only imagine what the fleeing ponies thought when entering this doomed base, expecting a quick and efficient escape from the masses of chaos that must be plaguing the entire fort. Now the officials have more or less imprisoned themselves and put both parties in a position of needing rescue, only no one was coming.
“Lily... We have to... We...”
“Amber...?”
I’ve never felt more helpless in my life. There’s only one person with the authority to handle this type of situation, and that person, coupled with a number of other unfortunate victims, have now been lost to the hungry maws of the undead. And now that I have Lily to tag along for the ride, I felt I’ve let her down once again, and that was enough to throw me into an even deeper depression. I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn’t show weakness; not in front of her. She was in this up to her neck, and the sign of me losing control of the situation would only make it worse for her.
“We have to leave.”
“What? No!”
“Lily, it’s the only option left!”
“If you think that we’re any safer out there, an endless expanse of lifeless land, than in here with the only help we can get, that proves you don’t know what you’re doing! I’m staying here!”
“Lily...”
“I’m sorry Amber, but we’ll only slow each other down. You can go if you’re convinced there’s still something out there, but I’m not.”
“Lily! We’ll find something! We’ll find help! We just need to...”
I’m sorry Amber. You’re on your own on this one...”
“...”
I made my way to the entrance of the fort. A large metal door kept shut by 8 steel bars, each one with an “inspirational” message pasted upon it.
“It’s not too late to join the E.S.A.!”
“The E.S.A. are the ones who will tell you when it’s okay!”
“We’ll be better leaders than Celestia will ever be!”
“E.S.A. officers are your friends!”
“When in doubt, contact us!”
“You’re safe here!”
“Inspiration and innovation is how we run!”
“Everypony is welcome here!”
Scribbled on the door were various amounts of legible graffiti and unprofessional imagery. Most notable was a message that bore the words:
“I AM AN INDIVIDUAL!!”
Another one I found interesting was scribbled on the last rod:
“LIES!!!!!”
Trotting my way up the stairs to a small control room, I fumbled around for a notepad, or anything that had the chance of containing a way to opening this 2-ton obstruction. The 5 minute search turned out nothing save a glock and 2 clips. It was then that something caught my eye; a rusty tablet bearing a week old hoofnote.
“This apparently needs to be written down because the gatekeeper is too incompetent to do it himself. Well anyway, the E.S.A. will be holding a meeting at 5:30pm. While that’s being sort out, I want you to lock all 8 of the stable doors in the main lobby. No, I wasn’t given a reason. After that, I want you find the tablet salespony. Relieve him of his products and tell him he’s fired. No, I wasn’t given a reason for that either. We also need to rewater the plastic trees outside the main office. Not to help them grow, but to make them look more authentic to the public. The scavengers will leave the water outside the gate. To get the gate open, use the key cards I’ve left on the desk beside the door. They should have the E.S.A. sig on the top. Swipe them beside the monitor and wait for about an hour or so till the rods stop keeping the door down. Afterwards, it should push right open, but double check for victims.”
A strange thing I’ve noticed is that the gate-keeper hasn’t done any of those things, but that’s not my problem. The important bits were the instructions on how to open the gate; swipe a card. You think that something as vital as a fort would have tighter security than that, though their priorities appear to be elsewhere. But... Even then, it would still be hard for a victim to get past something like that, and since the door was found shut, the breakout must have come from either an unchecked entrance, or from within the fort itself. How would something as dangerous as that sneak by the E.S.A.? I can’t focus on that now.  They’ll be here any minute.
There were 8 key cards sprawled across the desk just like the reminder said. They probably required several cards at once to ensure the security wouldn’t be as easily reachable, though the purpose becomes irrelevant when you leave all of them there at once, and it didn’t help how they were multicolored.  I swiped each card across the side of the only monitor in the room, each subsequent swipe pulling back another steel rod. After the eighth and final swipe,  the door was unsealed. After standing in front of it, I could now fully appreciate the overall massiveness of this thing. Whatever is out there, they did not want it to get in, or us to get out. But one of those has already been marked off the list, and I’m ready to scratch out the last one. With a couple of long breaths, I pushed the door and took my first steps into the dominion of the dead.
Achievement unlocked!
Have a Red-Hot Medal:
Have Amber be branded by the fort officials.
E.S.ucation:
Purchase an E.S.A. magazine.
20% Poorer:
Be informed about your budget.
First Contaminant!:
Witness your first fort infected.
Iron Solid Irony:
Witness the takeover of E.S.A.’s Emergency station.
Wilted:
Leave Lily to pursue her own adventure.
Thanks Gatekeeper:
Break out of the fort.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                    2: Law of the Land                     
//-------------------------------------------------------//
2: Law of the Land
CHAPTER 2: Law of the Land
AMBER:
Run. That was my plan, and it was a great plan too. I’d make a crappy scavenger, and I don’t see how I alone was supposed to save an already doomed city. The cool, desert night air brushed against the sides of my face, condensing the sweat I’ve collected on my cheeks. The harsh winds battered against my fur and weaved their way to my skin. Under normal circumstances, I’d believe I was freezing. However, coupled with the intense galloping I’ve managed to pull off, it more than nullified the effect. The sand offered water like resistance, and slowed my pace down to that of a trotting filly. I bent and resumed my already rapid breathing. The sudden intake of cold air burned my lungs, though it was pretty low on my list of concerns. Was I far away enough? I didn’t know. Though I could still pick up the cries of screaming ponies and their groaning undead attackers.
I’ve never been outside in the last two years. Sure, I’ve scanned along the desert floor over the wall that surrounds the city more than enough times, but regulations state that if you venture beyond the walls without being branded first, they would deny you access back into the fort to “ensure public safety.” The night lit up with the fires of the fallen fort. Glowing ashes cascaded down the wall in a shimmering avalanche. The smell of the dense black smoke has reached far beyond where any reasonable yet cowardly fish-hook would go. Occasionally, a leaking oxy tank would shoot off into the night sky and make its presence known through a dazzling display of dancing lights accompanied by a chest thumping boom. It’s amazing how even the most well-built structures can still collapse over one mistake. I still don’t understand, though, how a lumbering corpse would start a fire. It didn’t make sense to me, and it shouldn’t.
The desert hasn’t changed much. That’s for sure. From where I was standing, I made out a large billboard painted with an advertisement for Sweet Apple Acres Cider. Heh. I remember trying out their cider once. I’m telling you, nothing I’ve chugged down so far has managed to beat this legendary refreshment. I relished in the thought of obtaining such a drink just to remind myself that there were better times. Well, better may be stretching it.
How long have I been walking? 9 minutes, and I’m already half conscious. The sand’s resistance against my hooves proved to be a very proud hinderance. I’ve already ingested the last of my Appleseed Speed. So far, I haven’t notice anything too much of an effect, other than it probably stopped me from taking a nap in the middle of victim territory. I strained to recall the two-year old memories of when I first reached the fort to retrace my steps. The only real thing I remembered was my dad dropping me off here.
“...is she bitten...”
“...get a doctor...”
“...please...”
Those were the words I’ve successfully extracted from my less than decent memory. Not very much, but it did paint the image of a dirt road. A rough, beaten dirt road with a sign that had “E.S.A. Pass Required” printed upon it. When I took the scenery in for a bit, I could make out what my memory had seen. There was a rusted sign with E.S.A.’s ornate logo plastered on it just a couple of yards away. If the sign is directing me towards Fort Howard, then the opposite direction must be into town; a town called Ponyville. At least that much I could figure out. Something was off though. The formal introduction to Howard’s dystopian shelter had been defaced with ludicrous amounts of graffiti that I don’t remember being there in the two years before, and as far as I know, the undead aren’t very good artist. Written in graffiti, the words were similar to those sprayed upon the fort’s gate:
“STAND ALONE; STAND TALL.”
The saying would usually pass on a more positive note, but with the absence of law, who ever that pony is must have a whole world to herself, assuming it’s a mare. That’s probably something she wouldn’t give up that easily. I know I wouldn’t.
Showing no real incentive of going back, I powered through the snow like sand to where I caught a glimpse of the last sign you would see before you enter the desert. In front of it, small plants and low hills began to form. Set on the road, a small battered station occupied by a one cart train. The lights above the station remain lit, meaning that it at least had power. Talk about a lucky break. I’ve already made up my mind on where my destination is.   Releasing a gasp of relief, I made the mistake of putting my 9mm into the holster it came with. Ensured with my safety, I galloped away the last remnants of my energy. The rest goes along for the ride.
The engine bellowed and roared throughout the night. The glow and heat from the coal filled the front, and I was forced to shift back to the caboose; a whole 5 steps. I needed to kill some time before I arrived at Ponyville, so I spent it staring into the dark, blue, eventless abyss of the desert, which had slowly changed into a poor colt’s grassland as the train scrolled by. The wind was relieving the tension I had built up through my mane as it curled around my muzzle. The rumble and thumping of the train, however, encouraged me to hang on to some. I’ll assume one of the key aspects of survival revolve around being aware of your surroundings. Seeing as how there was nothing TO see, I drew myself back within the caboose. The inside had similar etchings across its walls; namely several rushed drawings and stock political slogans. Small comments also managed to be scratched in. One I found rather strange was “Note to self: Never place tripwire without marking it on a map.”
One thing's for sure: I was tired. Shifting through that sand, wind, and withered brush drizzled away most of my consciousness. I couldn’t sleep though.   just couldn’t. I’ve just escaped an army of hungry corpses from a dystopian city. I still had no idea about what would come next. I’m not even entirely sure what Ponyville would look like after all that time I spent in Howard. Has it suffered the same fate as all the other towns. I’m pretty sure I already knew the answer to that.
A small light cut through the darkness within the train. It sailed across the ground to stop at my face. It caught my eye just in time for me to witness the majesty of its source. Looming over the small hillside, towering structures presented themselves proudly in the night. The glow lit the dreary backdrop of the sky, changing it to compliment the sparkling display. Strong streams of shite shot from the ground to emphasize their accompanying architecture. It laid its hands upon the tallest of them all.  A skyscraper with the words E.S.A. fixed upon the roof in glowing elegance. Was it a... City? How is that possible? I wish I had more time to collect my thoughts, but the engine had other plans and sped past the spectacle.
Are more of these cities scattered throughout Equestria? Is there still civilization? Was that the same city I saw two years ago? Is that... Las Pegasus? What have I missed in the past two years?
I remember the days I spent in Ponyville, me and my family would rent a small house to stay in, and forget about all the troubles of the world. Everyday, I’d go to school, leave it crying, and jump in to the only place I was able to let out my frustration; the bed. I remember a few friends I had there, though I think they were just tagging along to make me feel better. One in particular was a clockwork pony who worked for the mayor. I remember his spiky brown mane and hourglass cutie mark. I remember how he always wore a silly green clip on tie to fool ponies into thinking he was ‘official,’ though most saw through his ruse. The memory made me a bit teary eyed.
That Ponyville, however, was gone. This was the new Ponyville, and it consisted of papers scattered across the ground, dusty windows shattered beyond repair, grimy metal framework rusted to the point of being unusable, and filthy stores that have been stripped clean anything you would find useful or entertaining. The trees that once decorated the colorful village have withered away, and the grass was... eaten. Likely due to the desperation of a starving pony. I made my way through the ruins and observed further into the extent of the destruction, which was much more than that of a plague. It’s as if the entire village had a forecast of plucked grenades. How is it that a couple of walking corpses could do this much damage in such a short amount of time?
Crack
“Wha-?”
What was that? There was no wind blowing. Am I alone?
My head snapped to my side to determine the origin of the noise. All I could see were a couple of boxes next to a flower shop. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary... I continued to trot through the ruins and more or less tried to forget about that little intrusion.
Bang...!
A faint burst of sound traveled through the air. Somewhere in the distance, a gun was fired. Now I was worried. What reason would a shot be fired other than putting down a victim? The last thing I wanted was someone shooting back at me.
Slowly, I made my way through the decimated gravel streets. It was almost as if I was browsing a gallery of bits and pieces of the previous world. I heard a low groan emerge from the quiet of the night. I snapped backwards to catch a glimpse of the growling intruder. It took me awhile to figure out the growling intruder was actually my misbehaving stomach. Wow, I was hungry. Perhaps there would be sources of food around this shell of a town.
I took not two steps forward until my sense of balance quickly became irrelevant. A wall of pressure ate the space in front of me. My hooves lost contact with the ground as my entire being blew back. An ear numbing thump engulfed the air. The ground quaked at the sudden force it now had to endure. A momentous rushing cloud of dust and debris escaped through a newly made wall cavity, the shards shooting out and sprinkling across the beaten ground. It took me  a while to get myself back up and review what just happened. The closest store has had some type of combustion accident. I put a hoof in front of my face to shield it from any oncoming debris the wreckage might produce. The spontaneous explosion, however, unveiled another more unusual occurrence. I viciously wiped my face to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
As if born from the explosion, a filthy looking pegasus colt emerged from the ashes. Behind him, at least five victims on his tail. He raised his hoof, and fired a shaky burst of rounds from a damaged rifle strapped to his fore leg. His aim had been reduced greatly seeing as he nicked a window, though I doubt that would be productive in taking down zombies. With the new burst of noise and movement, the victims bleeded even more excitement for their new meal. The colt, once again, took aim at his attackers before letting out a sharp gasp of agony. He appeared to be hurt. He regained his composure to fire another burst of bullets before I somehow made my presence known well enough to grab his attention. “Wha?! Who are you?!” I wish I had the time to respond, but his attention was fixed upon the victims once again, who have now drawn closer. He hoofed his way behind an abandoned shop, and out of my sight before I had the chance to even know his name, with now eight of those things after him.
????:
Gah! Why did I do that?! Now these freaks are angrier than before! Can’t focus on that now. Just got to keep running! GAAAAH! That explosion must have wounded me worse than I thought. Maybe I could lose them around those houses. It’s probably the best way of getting out of this mess! Maybe I should have flagged down that filly. She seemed armed. NO! Not getting other ponies involved. Not today.
AMBER:
Poor colt. I wish I could’ve done more than just sit there like a scared 12-year-old and watch it all go down. Could I have done something? I convinced myself I couldn’t to heal my conscience. After another long walk, my stomach clinged to itself as I spent away the last bits of my reserved energy. I couldn't believe it. Only an hour and five minutes out here, and I’ve already fallen flat on my knees. How pathetic. Only then was I aware enough noticed a rather curious sight.
An odd silhouette lay pressed against a torn down house. The figure slumped down a bit, and stood still enough to where I could see the rise and fall of his chest. Could it be that colt I met earlier? He’s the first living pony I’ve seen since leaving Howard, and I’m not going to risk losing him again. Not wanting to get too close, I scooped up a small rock and pitched in its direction to earn his attention. The rock, instead, thwacked right against the side of his face.
“Groan...”
Of course.
The figure unveiled to be yet another limping colt with sunken, dirty looking eyes. His facial features (and skin and general) were discolored, and decaying to the point where they became non-existent, save for his sharp rotten teeth which have been exposed through more decaying flesh.  On him, he wore an orange vest stained with blood, coupled with a hard hat also drenched in sticky, black, coagulated blood. It didn’t take long for me to figure out it was another victim, and he looked hungry. Then again, what victim didn’t?
Now making its way towards me, my hunger made room for adrenaline. I fiddled with my muzzle for the glock strapped to my side. I was too impatient, however, and fumbled around just enough for the gun to fall out of its holster and on to the ground scattering the ammo it possessed within its clip.
“Crap!”
I had a hard time reloading the damn thing, partly because I wasn’t gifted with thumbs. Every click the bullet made as it was inserted into the clip drew the poor colt closer to his meal. I’ve finally maxed it out and got my tongue ready to pull the trigger, expecting a shower of blood and brain matter to be shredded out from the back of his head.
Click
The victim hasn’t fallen. That’s because I haven’t shot it yet. What was wrong? Was the gun jammed? I can’t focus on it now! I needed to-  oh. Silly me. The safety’s on. Now I just need to-
BANG!
I fell back from the force of the blast. The firearm shot rang out through the entire town. The gun somehow discharged by accident, and more or less served as a dinner bell for the tens of other victims concealed within the scenery. Now I had a fleet limbering towards me, and here I was thinking guns were suppose to keep you safe. 4 bullets, 15 victims; unfavorable odds. As soon  as I witnessed an opening within the shrinking ring of hungry ponies, I made a mad dash towards freedom. That was my ultimate escape setup, and it took two steps: Run, and shoot. Unfortunately neither went according to plan as one of the victims got a grip of my tail.
“AH!”
I was yanked back and promptly seated onto the battered pavement. With the zombie quite literally on my tail, I was now in level 3000 panic mode. I suppressed my screams in fear that I would attract unwanted attention from more of their grunts. I grabbed for my suddenly precious glock, flipped over, and lined up my aim, though it wasn’t a real priority being he was so close. As soon as that victim revealed his rotten, filthy, ugly fangs ready to crunch down upon my skin, I rang a shot point-blank into his head. He jerked back as the bullet penetrated between his eye’s and ripped out from the back of his skull, taking bits and pieces of brain and bone with it. The remains spattered onto his zombie friends, who appeared to have been unaffected by their fellow undead ally’s slaying. Now given the opportunity, I sloppily sprang up from my vulnerable position and fired two more shots at two of his loyal followers. One tore through a neck, and the other made its home in an eye. Now confident with my control, I geared up to fire the next round.
“I might actually make it out of this.”
Lining up my shot once again, I got a good view of another victim’s head and squeezed the trigger.
Click
What? The safety’s off! How could... Oh yeah. I fired four rounds. That’s all it held. I wondered how many more ‘oh’ moments I would have before I was devoured by the now angry dead ponies. I spent precious seconds fidgeting for my last clip, but it was gone. I then remembered I dropped it within the rotting circle, which by now has become more of an elongated arrow pointing at me. I needed another plan, and fast, but I was never good at thinking on my hooves. Now that would show through the pain I was going to endure once one of these things had its teeth in me. I braced up to run.
BANG!
For a second, I almost thought one of the zombies busted out a gat and shot me, though this wasn’t so. A victim far in the back dropped dead and drew the attention of the horde away from me. I leaned right a bit to get a better view of the mysterious pony. I’ve once again managed to run into the same colt from earlier. He had a spiky dark chocolate mane that arched over his head, and a pale coat stained to the skin with mud. So much so that I couldn’t make out his cutie mark. His weapon: A firearm strapped to the side of his foreleg, though instead of it being a meager pistol, it was what appeared to be a sawn off pump-action shotgun.
The undead, now fully aggravated by the uninvited guest, lunged at the colt to take him down. A blast of pellets tore through the attacking horde, spraying blood onto the paper coated streets.  One zombie, two zombies, three; each one suffering a fate similar to the ones I had shot earlier. He almost finished the last one off, till his shotgun made the ever resented click. The last of the group decided it wouldn’t put up with his shit, and grabbed him by the foreleg, and pulled him down under its mouth, waiting to feast. Unfortunately for it, I had already relocated my clip. I sprinted up to the wannabe hero, and pressed the pistol against the back of the victims head, and left my mark.
The corpse now lay slump over the colt, which he got off himself in  a hurry. He brushed the ground’s offerings off his still dirty coat. He fed his sawn off 5 more shells, and looked at me. Finally, he spoke again.
“You need to learn to keep a low profile. The limpers wander towards anything they find interesting, which would mostly fall under the category of everything that moves.”
“Limpers? That’s what you call them?”
“That’s what I call the slow ones.”
Slow ones? You mean there are fast ones? Perfect. Wanting to confirm my theory, I geared up to ask him that question, only the wasteland wanderer was already on his way past me. “Hey wait!”
He rolled his eyes in frustration.
“I just wanted to thank you for saving me. Really, I do.” I waited eagerly for his response.
“Saving you? Hardly. If you hadn’t killed the limper latched on to me, I’d be one of them.” I flushed a bit. First time in a long while someone gave me a real compliment.
He scanned me a bit. “Hey, weren’t you that one filly I saw outside that shop?”
“Same one...” Even while talking to the first pony I’ve met since escaping Fort Howard, I’m still too shy to have a coherent sentence escape my mouth. Something was strange though. I remembered him being hurt. He even had to limp away from, well, other limpers. What happened?
I wanted to ask him, though he continued to distance himself from me. Wherever he's going, it must be real important. “Hey! Wait a second!” He seemed a bit less bothered by my intrusion this time, seeing as he actually took the time to turn around and face me. “I... I don’t even know your name.  My name’s Amber.”
He let out a sigh. “You want my name? Why?”
Of all the questions he could have asked, the first one concerned the reason of why I would like to know his name. What else would I want it for? What does he think I’ll do? Steal his identity and sap his bank account of extra bits? “I just would like to know the person who helped me out. I’m pretty new here...”
He looked around a bit to see if there was anything that would explain how this was so. It was then that he saw my makeshift cutie mark. “You’re from the forts.”
As if it wasn’t obvious. “Yah...” I said with a bit of shame.
The still unnamed colt paused. “Hm...” For one reason or another, he took those words into deep thought. Finally, he released another sigh and continued to speak. “All right. My name, you wanted it?”
“...Yes.”
“Bale. My name’s Bale.”
“Bale?”
“Bale Walker...”
At last, I’ve finally managed to extract the reclusive colt’s name. Comfortable with my new knowledge, I addressed him as such. “So Bale,  where are you going?” It seemed like a reasonable question.
“To the center of town. I’ve gotten info that the store hasn’t been raided yet. Can’t fight limpers on an empty stomach.” He chuckled thinking that was somehow funny.
Great. Now my hunger came back with a vengeance. I massaged my stomach to calm it down.  “Um.... Can I come too? I haven’t eaten since last night, and I spent all my carbohydrates getting to this place.”
For some reason, that dug up another chuckle from him. “Heh. If you think you’re hungry now, you’re not going to last very long out here.” That didn’t make me nervous at all. “I haven’t eaten in the past 7 days.”
7 days?! Damn! I was really worried now. I had to stick with this guy. If I didn’t, I’m basically leaving myself for the dead. “Really. Can I come with you? The fort I was from has just been overrun. I have nowhere to go.” I fiddled around with a rock under my hoof to ease the wait for his answer.
BALE:
Who was this little filly? She just escaped her only sanctuary last night? How has she manage to live so long? Her tactics on handling limpers just proves how incapable she is at taking care of herself.  Seriously? Spend your hard earned ammo on one zombie? How stupid can you get? Though, I can’t just abandon her. She wouldn’t last 2 days by herself. What was her name? Amber? Amber what? Were her parents that uncreative? Whatever. I had to put convenience aside for humanity.
“Amber...” I somehow was able to startle her with my sudden reluctance to answer her question.  So she’s easily frightened as well.
“What?  Yes?  What?”
“If you’re going to tag along, you have to, and I mean HAVE TO do exactly as I say. Can you promise me that?”
She smiled and nodded. I could tell she was relieved about my acceptance.
Our hour long trek left her in exhaustion. I counted at least 14 instances where she asked me-
“Are we there yet?” Okay. 15 instances.
Finally, our tour came to an end. There it was. An ‘All-or-Nothing’ department store. It was about time I found a place where the windows had not been COMPLETELY smashed in.
I signaled my accomplice to stay behind. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with a scraped knee. I pulled the forestock of my shotgun to load another shell in the chamber, waiting to empty it in an undead skull. I also braced myself for disappointment in case my instincts were wrong, and this store is totally empty, save a few discarded cans and wrappers. I slowly eased the door open and peered inside.
Holy shit.
Wall to wall, the shelves were composed of a colorful arrangement of cereal boxes and cans of various vegetables and beans. On the tops, a wide assortment of sodas, juices, and even beer were kept in bulk. Across the elise, smaller entertainment foods were kept, such as candy and gum. There were even hundreds of stoves, ovens, and refrigerators displayed against the back of the store! This was amazing! How can a freshly packed market such as this be left untouched?
Out came a shout from my peer. “Damn! This place is stocked! There’s more food here than there was at the fort!” I’m pretty sure I jumped a good 3 feet when she started talking.
“Oh! Sorry! Did I scare you?”
No. I did that for show. “Amber, that’s a good way to get shot you know.” This whole partner thing needs precautions.
AMBER:
Get shot? Come on. I’m not that stupid. Victims can’t talk. You’d have to be pretty stirred up to take aim at the only other living pony with you. I guess this comes with the whole newbie thing. Now I could then focus on the plethora of goods this market has managed to keep safe. How could someone eat the grass over this place? It’s asinine! Bale grabbed one of the small ladders used to stock shelves and wheeled it on over to assist me in packing our precious loot. I trotted over to the kitchen appliances to see if any of them worked.
Hm... Most are just display, save for the demonstration oven in the middle. I would really like some kind of toast now. I wasn’t feeling real picky. I just needed something sweet to get me back up on my hooves. But something else managed to achieve the same effect when it bursted from across the store.
“NO!”
What was that? Bale? Could he be in trouble? I loaded my glock and galloped my way over to the source of the outburst. My suspicions were confirmed in terms of it being Bale, but no victim to accompany him.
“Bale? What’s wrong?” He was definitely aggravated. I wanted to ask him again, though he handed me a box from down the ladder to do the explaining for him.
“Tell it to the judge! Stable Star whole grain cereal! The only balanced breakfast guaranteed to give your young royal guard-”
the rest was obscured by a bright orange sticker with the E.A.H.S. logo on it.
“WARNING! This product is contaminated! Do not consume! Sale or distribution of any products with this label is punishable by 5 years in jail + a 500 bit fine!”
My heart sank in disappointment, and realization. This is probably how the disease spread through Fort Howard. But how do you miss a bright orange sticker stamped on the front of the box? Are our scavengers really that stupid?
“That thing’s on all of these! Boxes, Cans, Sacks, everything!” He threw a Stable Star box to the ground in frustration, scattering the diseased breakfast across the already filthy floor. “None of this is edible. If we eat it, were one of them.”
Now I was worried. Am I going to starve BEFORE I’m eaten? How much longer can Bale go on without food? He’s been without it longer than me! “Have you checked all of them? Every last one?”
“Don’t need to. Look above you.”
I did just that. There was a stamp on the easel display sign positioned on top the shelves. It bore a similar message. “What... What are we going to do?”
“Keep looking. Chances are there’s some stuff in the houses past this place, but I don’t know how we’re going to get in without tools. Anything else would make too much noise.”
Okay. Good. There might still be some food in the neighborhoods. But I’m just as stumped as he is in ways of getting in discretely. A click from a magazine is enough to bring these things out, so our options are pretty limited. Unless...
“Bale?”
“Yah?” He was still looking for a shelf that wasn’t poisoned.
“Is there a maintenance room in this place?” Bale made a small grin. He knew what I was planning, though I’m not sure I did.
Achievement Unlocked!
LOL n00b:
Kill your first zombie
Buckshot:
Save Bale Walker
Convenient Store:
Locate the department store

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                   3: What not to Expect                   
//-------------------------------------------------------//
3: What not to Expect
CHAPTER 3: What not to Expect
BALE:
Normally, I would give the drifting defenseless filly a means for defending herself.  Perhaps, even a gun.  But this one...  She can’t even get a good grip of her pistol without trembling like it’s 40 below.  It’s a nice piece too:  Glock 17, semi-auto, Los Pegasus brand holster, and reinforced grip.  Unbeknownst to her, an extended mag clip lay fastened to the aforementioned holster, though I wish to see how long it takes for her to catch on.
“Um, Bale.  I thought we were looking for tools.  Not trying to rush you, but neither of us have eaten yet.”
And now, 20 questions for pros.  “We’ll get to that as soon as we can.  Right now, I need to find my rifle.”
“You mean the one you were using at that store?”
Of all places...  “Do you know where it is?”
She shifted a bit before answering.  “I don’t want to come off as rude, but why do you need a rifle when you have a shotgun?”
Finally.  She ask a question I’m more than happy to answer.  “I have about 4 clips in my little hut that I don’t plan on wasting.  Plus, I could sell it for some bits.”
“Who’s buying?  I thought everypony fled to the forts.  I guess there would be the occasional rover, though they’d be very far apart.  And the E.S.A. has a strict no firearms policy that you can’t get around unless you don’t mind churning through a tanker of paperwork.”
“Hah!  Amy, you have no idea what these ponies have done to this place.  Not all of Equestria has fallen.  You know that right?”
Did he just call me Amy?  “It hasn’t?”
“You think little packs of clueless deadbeats would take down a giant like Fillydelphia?  Not likely. Once they got enough support, the denizens shot out the remaining infected and fenced off the place.  Since then, the whole infrastructure has had a complete overhaul.  I hear that Appleloosa has actually gotten bigger!  That little desert town.  Can you believe that?  That isn’t true for all of them though.  Canterlot went out pretty quickly, of course, and Ponyville has seen better days as well.”
“Well it IS the apocalypse.  I didn't really have high expectations.”
“No.  An apocalypse would imply the collapse of modern civilization, or something like that.  The word you’re looking for is pandemic.”  I tried to make myself sound like some sarcastic politician to paint the image of me being intelligent.  I don’t think it caught on though.
“But...  If some cities are still up, why would somepony flee to a fort?  I don’t know about you, but I’d take city life over fort life any day!  Why wouldn’t someone pick the better out of the two?!”  She must have thought it was obvious.
“I never said it was better.  The big ones are often under control by the E.S.A.  You thought the forts were bad?  Wait till you see these guys.  Their government is on speed. The smaller ones have been turned into slums for druggies and ponies who couldn’t get into the forts.  Personally, I prefer them.”
“So, I’m assuming you came from one of those smaller towns?  You couldn’t get into the forts?”
Ah, assumptions.  What would I ever do without you?  “Wrong again.  I’m from a fort too.”
AMBER:
Wait, what?  This pony was just like me one time! How’d he make it all by himself?  Has he acquired help from a neighboring town?  Was his fort overrun too?  Was he kicked out for disorderly conduct?  Maybe he was getting transferred till something broke the line.
“You are?  Which one?  And why aren’t you there now? Are you a scavenger?”
Bale hanged his head down and blew out some air.  It’s as if he’s regretting sharing that information with me.  “I...  Don’t want to talk about it.”  Weird how he expected me to drop it, but it’s only entertained my curiosity.  I wish to give this colt some space though.  I think he’s earned it as of now.
But the cities...  E.S.A. controlled hotspots?  Was that what I saw the night before?  That one skyscraper had their initials on it.  Whatever it was, it’s not the key issue as of now.  I need to place my priorities elsewhere.
“So, you said you had a hut?”
He was slightly less reclusive on this question.  “Sure.  Well, it’s an abandoned shack I’ve cleaned out with a grenade, and I’ve only been in it for bout’ a week.”
Yes!  I had someplace to stay!  I would like to know why he thought using a grenade would be a good idea, but I’d rather put my thoughts elsewhere!  “Yay!  Can I stay?  I need a place to-”
“Hang on a second.”
Never my way...
“Let’s not get too comfy here.  I’ve known you for less than a day, and already you're asking me if you can rent some living space?  For all I know, you could just be some crook trying to snag my stuff and hoof out the next day.”
“Come on!  Do I look like somepony who would do that?”
He browsed me a bit.  “Do you want me to be honest?”
Somehow, we’ve successfully retraced our steps back around the shop.  Bale suggested that we take cover behind a low brick wall placed just in front of the shop where I first met him. The victims who’ve festered in this area earlier seemed to have lost interest and decided to spend their time elsewhere.  The building still had small puffs of smoke emitting from the windows, though it seems the explosion as a whole has managed to settle down.  It was then that Bale started whispering.  “You see it?”
“I’m pretty sure if I saw it, I would have told you.”
He hastily scanned around the shop.  “Hm... Can’t see any limpers from here.  I think it’s safe for now.”
“Bale?  Why do you call them limpers?”
We shifted around a bit to get a better view.  “Why not?  That’s what they do.  Why do you call them victims?”
“That’s what everyone at Howard calls them.”
“Why?”
“Because they feel it’s more respectful, and I don’t disagree with them on that.  And trust me, there are a lot of things me and Howard don't share common ground on.”
He chuckled.  “You want to show respect to a walking dead body?”
“We don’t see them as that.”
“Amber, it’s these things that caused this whole mess.  If anything, I’m giving them slack in calling them limpers.”
He peered over the wall again.  “Okay.  There aren’t any here.  I can dash over behind those shops and find my rifle.  You stay here and keep watch.  If anything happens,” he loaded the glock for me, “don’t hesitate to shoot.”  With that, he hopped over the wall and disappeared behind the buildings.   Time to start counting minutes.
BALE:
Of course I would drop the most valuable piece in my arsenal.  Can’t hold on to something of remote value without 8 dead ponies trying to put it to the test.  It’s like a booby trapped relic in some obscure temple you would find in Daring Do.  Oh well.  Can’t complain now.  Work needs to be done.
I coaxed my way through the allies of the farmers market to take point from behind an abandoned snack stand.  Well, it would be a market if it actually had food.  Nothing but a bunch of empty carts, discarded paper, broken glass, and more of those orange stickers.  Some fruit still remained, though it’s rotted beyond the point of being safe to eat.  I’m pretty sure I saw an animal living in a watermelon around here. From what I remember, my best effort in ditching those freaks was around here.  So that would mean I dropped the gun somewhere close by.  It’s a reasonable guess.
With caution, I tipped my way through the ruined festival of fruit.  The flies engorged themselves with their free meal, probably getting drunk in the process.  One in particular found the area in front of my muzzle rather lovely, and concluded it would much rather dance in front of my face then finish eating.  I brushed him off subconsciously.  He, however, wasn’t finished and took a one way trip back to my muzzle.  This brush was not subconscious.  The buzzing intruder still hasn’t gotten the message.  I could tell after he took a detour right back to my face.  Okay.  This was getting irritating.  The next brush amounted to more of a swat, though my harasser dashed away just before I thwacked myself in my eye.  It amuses me how I’m having this much trouble with an insect instead of a limper.  Had I’d known about this earlier, I would’ve brought a fly swatter.
More than a minute later, the fly went back to feast once more upon the rotting fruit, but not without buzzing by piles of misplaced garbage slanted against a small shack.  An involuntary glance beside myself witnessed the only item that excited my interest:  The barrel of my rifle!  An M14 semi-automatic .308 Winchester Springfield...  and all the other stuff.  You get the idea.  Still taking caution, I quickly made my way over to the pile expecting to snag my rifle out of the trash can it was occupying, and bolt out of here just as fast.  “Finally.  After this, I can get something to eat.”  But of course, it didn’t end there.
As I yanked my rifle out from the garbage, that’s when I noticed it brought a friend along for the ride; a limper with its grip fastened to the stock. At least this one was a girl. It was getting rather boring blasting colts all the time. The sudden burst of movement drew the edacious equine’s attention to me and lunged forward to sink its teeth in my flesh.  I averted myself from the fatal bite just in time, though instead of faceplanting into the concrete, it nagged the strap of my shotgun.  I was jerked back down to my knees, and my diseased attacker pounced on top of me.  How many more times was this going to happen?
Before it secured a chance to chomp down a second time, I whipped out the gun I DID have, and planted it into her throat.  Dark red sludge, shattered bone, and torn rotten skin pumped out from the back of his head and painted the walls as I pulled the trigger.  With it now being dead, I quickly kicked him off my body.  The shot brought the attention of even more rotten carnivorous corpses to where I was standing.  Yeah.  I think it’s time to run.
I knocked my way through the allies to boost my momentum.  The more speed I had, the more likely I would make it out of this without incident.  The undead still haven’t lost interest in me, and in fact, picked up the pace to catch up.
I finally made it to the wall, so some optimism crossed my face.  At least until I stumbled and crashed my way through trash cans and garbage bags all while dropping both the M14 and the Sawn-off Shotgun.  Amber must have heard that, for she jumped up from her sleep, and took off running towards my direction.  I scrambled for a weapon, but the only ones I had were too far from my reach.  It was now me versus the not-so-limping limpers, and so far, they were winning.
BANG!
A zombie was blown back by a steady cloud of lead and scraped against the ground leaving a trail of fresh blood.  The first follower was unaware of his demise, and tripped over the leader’s corpse.  This started a chain reaction to where each subsequent limper would ignore the tripped, become the tripped and become the tripper.  Soon, a wall of hungry rotting flesh congested the ally.  Ten or twenty discolored hooves reached out to grab me, though like my gun,  I was too far out of reach.  “One down, too many more to go!”  Hm.  Maybe she can handle a gun.  “Bale?  How do I reload this?!”  Or not.  However, she successfully bought enough time for us to grab the remaining firearms. Yet, with all that, we still have managed to corner ourselves against a giant tree, which looked a bit like a library.
But by now, the limpers were starting to break free. The frontmost limper, a unicorn, wasn’t able to grasp the idea of us getting away. She pronounced her favorability of that outcome by dislodging from the pile up while ripping herself in half. Her intestines lazily dragged behind her severed body, acting like a red fleshy paintbrush for the land below it. I’m sure Amber didn’t take the sight all too well seeing as she quivered in her place, refusing to put the halved mare out of her misery as it crawled closer. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t as disturbed as she was. The smell it emitted from its torn tubes didn’t help either.
Click
A lot of help this rifle was... “Amber! Shoot it!” Being a magnet for bad luck, Amber instead of doing something rational just kept her place and even started whimpering a little. “Damn it Amber! I don’t have ammo!” Fear is one thing, but just being helpless isn’t going to help anybody! It worries me even more with how this would play out if I wasn’t there. I don’t think it would be much different. “AMBER! GET THAT SHOTGUN, PLANT IT ON IT’S FOREHEAD, AND BLOW IT’S BRAINS OUT BEFORE-” The crawling limper dove in.
BANG!!
Her head was not only thrown back, it shattered while its now liquid brain bursted into the sky and slung single strands of red on our faces while the rest dotted the ground. Pretty soon, more and more limpers escaped the pile up and shambled their way towards us. I finally loaded my last clip into the M14 and joined the fight. They crowded the area in front of us, becoming linear in their attack. It wasn’t too long before lead rain sailed across the air. One after another, limpers fell to a bloody demise. Each one added a new red mural to the street. The sight could have been less grizzly, but it was our only option. After about 10 of them rejoined the dead, the crowd dispersed just enough to let us dash to the side. I took a couple more potshots to keep them at bay as me and Amber made a hasty escape away from the library.
We sprinted out way through about five allies before finding a safe haven under another tree. We panted heavily while leaning against the less than luxurious bark and slid down to the ground. I leaned back to catch some well deserved z’s. I couldn’t wait long though.
Some time passed before one of us spoke.  The first input belonged to Amber.  “So Bale?”
“Yah?”  I was still a bit out, though I’ve replenished most of my lost energy.
“Can we eat now?”  It’s almost like a little filly asking her older brother to take her to the park.
“Nope.”  I replied sarcastically.  I don’t think she got the joke till about 5 seconds later though.  This world was still new to her, and in a way, kind of new to me too.  I haven’t been out here THAT long...
I finally decided it was time to  turn back to the department store; something I probably should have done first.  But I retrieved my rifle, Amber and I are both still alive, and I found a free pack of gum in a trashed saddlebag along the road.  So far, I think we’re doing pretty good.  Her having a gun still makes me quite uncomfortable though.
I thrusted the doors open for the second time.  The cool conditioned air from inside the store mixed with the now warm air of the summer morning, combing my coat.  Amber trotted in front of me, excited to get to work.  I lazily tagged behind her through the aisles.  After we got the tools, we needed a plan.  I suppose I could find a map of some sort around the offices.  That’s probably the best approach.
There still was a problem though.  This filly...  She needed a place to stay.  I couldn’t just leave her outside.  She’s either die of exposure or get preyed upon by ‘victims.’  I couldn’t see myself sending her off to a fate like that.  Hm...  She seemed trustworthy enough, however my supplies are still limited.  I couldn’t even tell her that.  It would only incite more panic.  This needs to be sorted out before the break ins.
We arrived at the big boss’s top secret and super secure headquarters.  …  Okay fine.  We arrived at a small metallic door with a dirty bashed in window.  I signaled Amber to keep quiet while I eased the door open.  You never know...  “Yah.  This is taking too long.”
SMASH!
With a sudden burst of impatience, both me and Amber kicked the rusty door wide open, letting it slam against the wall with a loud bang.  No limpers.  No worries.  The office was a small carpeted room that amounted to 2 chairs juxtaposed against each side, a small potted plant (which was dead), and a single desk centered against the wall in the back.  Fitted on the desk were piles upon piles of unfiled paperwork, and empty coffee mugs sprinkled across the middle.  There would be a computer, but it fell to the floor and shattered its screen; likely due to the need for a quick escape.  Beside the desk, an open closet in possession of various janitorial supplies, office stock, and maintenance necessities.  Just what we needed.  And this time, I meant it.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t much of a tool colt, so I had a slightly pessimistic idea of how this would play out.  At least a hammer would suffice as a decent weapon.
Amber was the first to speak.  “Wow!  I’m actually right for once!”
“Shhh!  Quiet down!  They could still be here!”  By now, I thought she would’ve already figured that out herself.  “Let’s just get the tools.  Help me find a bag to put them in.”
I then realized the whole hut thing would need to be resolved sooner than I anticipated.  But you know what?  She’d helped me out.  Quite a lot actually.  Sure, she can be incompetent, but then again, she’s not the one who trashed a farmer’s market to find a rifle.  One night is okay.
AMBER:
We soon found ourselves in the last stretch to the neighborhoods.  By then, the sun finally started to show in the sky again.  The walk was less than thrilling, and neither me or Bale made a sound since we left the store, though it would be worth it to get something in my gut.  I poked my head from behind him to scan along the horizon.  I was able to make out a couple of houses, and another billboard.  This time, the sign was dedicated to Hay Stand Hotels.  On it were two ponies, one filly and one colt, jumping excitedly on a bed in front of a busy backdrop beside the words:
“You do more than just stay!  You experience!”
Only about a day away.  I’ll need to make note of that.
When we passed the billboard, I looked over at Bale again.  For some reason, something about him was bothering me.  It took me awhile to realize what.  Afterwards, I wanted to hit myself with a stick for not noticing it till earlier.  “Hey.  Bale?”
He slowed down and threw his head upwards.  He sighed once again before answering.  “Yah?  What is it?”
“You...  You’re a pegasus.”
“Yes?  And?”
“Well, pegasi can fly.  Right?”  I’m pretty sure he already knew the answer to that.
“Last time I checked.”
Now the moment of truth.  “If you can fly, why don’t you just ride the air and get to where you need to go?  You’ve been ground bound for quite a while now.”
He resisted the urge to go any further.  Bale kicked a couple of rocks out from under him.  “I’m not too keen on a talk about that subject.”
“What?  You’re a pegasus!  Flying is what you’re good at!”
“Correction:  Flying is what pegasi are good at.”
“You are a pegasus!”  As if I hadn’t been clear enough earlier.
“I shouldn’t be.”
“What?  Are you afraid of heights or something?”
“...”
Why this colt can’t just be honest is beyond me.  It’s like I’m talking to a cage; nothing gets out.  “Come on.  You don’t have to go that far off the ground.  Just enough so a victi- or ‘limper’ can’t snatch you in mid air.”  It seemed as though it was obvious.  I’m sure if I had to choose between being a couple of feet off the ground to being stranded on it with the undead, I’d choose the former.
“Amber, for one thing, I still need to keep you in check.  I can’t just leave you here by yourself, and I’m not strong enough to carry you.  We’re about the same age, so my strength has limits.”
“What?!  So you’re my foalsitter now?!  I’m not that much of a wreck!  And you high tailed out of that shop I met you at on foot!  I saw where you were hurt, and it wasn’t your wing!”  And now I still had to clear up how his injury healed so fast, but this comes first.
“Doesn’t matter.  My wings are useless anyway.”
Well that sure caught me off guard.  “What?”
He nelted down once again in a shameful display. Why do I have the feeling I’ll have to get used to that?  “Can’t you just leave a crippled colt alone?”
“...Crippled..?”  Wow.  Now I felt like a turd.  A pegasus who couldn’t fly?  Talk about being denied your birthright.  This must factor into my less than mediocre social skills, though he at least wasn’t much better.  “You can’t use your wings?”
“No...”
I peered over at his sides to diagnose the reason.  “Why?  They look fine to me.”
“They look fine closed.”  He paused.  “But when open,”  With a burst of air, Bale fluttered his wings open to present.  Under normal circumstances, this would be a pegasi’s way of showing superiority, but for him, it must have felt like he was being lined up for a mugshot.  The wings aren’t fit for flight. Each one was bent near the base.  If he tried taking off, they would fold in and wipe him out.  I’d imagine it would also be quite painful to have those folds.  I’m not a pegasus, but I know wings aren’t suppose to bend like that.  I can understand one wing, but both?  Might as well be an earth pony, though most earth ponies tend to be much stronger, and he isn’t even one.  So what does that make him?
“Any more questions you would like to ask me?”
For the first time, I didn’t
------------------------------
Baltimare
5 Hours Earlier
------------------------------
DR. FROST:
This afternoon was cold. Oh how I hate cold mornings. I break out of my warm blanket, eat my breakfast, choke on my coffee, all while half awake, and the first thing I want to do is just go back to sleep. But as nature has it, it’s quite difficult to rest your muscles in cold weather. Now I use up all my coffee power trying to keep my muscles tense enough to brace for wind. Perhaps I should have brought a jacket. It wouldn’t become relevant further though, seeing as I’m only a couple of steps away from my work place.
“E.S.A. Eastern Headquarters”
I let somepony else open the door for me. I wasn’t one to touch surfaces that have made contact with more than five different ponies. You can never be too careful. The warm, cozy air that emitted from the building was a welcoming aspect, especially when in curled around my head and hugged my entire being with. I wish this place had employees who exhibited similar feelings, but business comes first. I wanted to greet somepony on the way in. I always feel like I’m talking to myself whenever I’m at work. I waved at a lime colt hanging his coat. “Hey Crop!” He just ignored me. Okay, fine. I’ll just make my way to the reception desk, and ignore you too. Hmph.
“Hey Frost. What excuse shall greet me today?” The receptionist held a bored and unprofessional tone. Likely due to this being my third time late in the past month.
“I’m sorry Petals. My carriage was bumper deep in mud. I even have a picture on my tablet.”
“I really don’t care.” I haven’t noticed. “Just get to the Administrator. Something’s come up.”
“Thank you mam.” I wanted to hold her hoof out as kiss it, but the gesture was meant with a flick (punch) to my nose. You can’t be polite nowadays without someone thinking you’re busting a move.
These stairs were made by Sombra. If I had to count the times I’ve had back pain after making it to the top, this would be the first one, and it’s already irritating. Fortunately, God’s grace has blessed me with an elevator. I whipped out a handkerchief from my pocket to press the buttons. Filthy... Filthy buttons.
Stepping off onto the 10th and final floor, I once again admired the E.S.A.’s work. The whole room itself was an electronic interface; every corner occupied by at least one computer, each with its own pony to boot. The walls have been plastered with super-sized screens that each day display something different. To me, it was like watching a TV show. Partly being because there is one screen that actually does play shows. I browsed wall-to-wall to locate the administrator. Of course, she needs to be as elusive as ever. The computers flickering and flashing, along with the crowd of ponies trying to work their daily routine made the background too busy for me to distinguish-
“Dr. Frost!”
Dropped everything on the floor. It just had to be the floor. “Administrator Luna!” My glasses joined my belongings. “You were looking for me?” I picked my possessions one by one off the floor.
“Hath you no courage doctor? A single germ won’t end your life!”
“Luna, with all due respect, it was a single germ that wiped out half the country.” She stood idle as I gathered the last of my things, and fixed my glasses.
“We have not time for trivial matters like this! Fort Howard has been compromised!”
Back to the floor again. “You’re lying!”
“Does thou accuse his own boss of spreading falsehoods?! Does thou have no shame as well?!”
“It’s not 14th century England Luna. Speak Equestrian.”
Luna coughed a bit before answering back. “We need you at the briefing today Mr. Frost!”
“Well pardon me for not having nerves of steel.” I wrapped my hooves around my pile to ensure it would not fall again. Afterwards, Luna guided me to the briefing room. As you walk down the hall, you would trot on by a couple of other different rooms, each occupied by a different pony. Unfortunately, each different pony has the same expression: Dull. Luna eventually lead me to the briefing room. It only consisted of a large oblong table with chairs lazily shifted around it. The monitor up front showed our current little predicament. Now I knew she wasn’t kidding. There was Fort Howard, all up in flames. I retreated at the sight. We trusted our best with the job of keeping these forts to be the top of their class, and just like that, it has fallen. “Oh dear! Luna, what happened!” That was a stupid question. Why else would I be here if they had known that?
“We’re not sure. Reports last night suggest a breach in security. Every entrance to the smallest door must be kept in check, and in top condition. Our intel use to suggest it being a misfortune.”
“Use to?”
“You’re a good listener Dr. Frost. Agents have already scanned the perimeter. Any rational pony's first conclusion would lean towards accident, but with recent findings, the chances grow dimmer.”
My curiosity has peaked. “What findings?”
“Pull it up!” The display buzzed to another image. This one presented a capsule-shaped pod landed next to the emergency station. The unknown object’s walls curled outward, showing it was ripped open from the inside. There was no doubt in my mind that this... Was a bomb.
“Bloody...”
“One more was found near block C.”
“Luna, how have these things entered the fort?”
“We can’t be sure, but it was most likely dropped from the air. An object of that size would never make it past the walls.”
A grassy colored colt seated on the far side of the table interjected. “I TOLD YOU TO PUT CEILINGS ON THESE THINGS! I TOLD YOU ALL!”
Luna interjected back. “Dr. Green! Calm yourself! This is no time to start an argument!” She shifted her attention towards me. “Dr. Frost! I want you to dig into this, and find out as much as you can! Ponies have lost their lives to this, and we will know exactly how it happened, and who is responsible!” I swallowed some spit. “I am putting you in charge of this investigation. You are my best. Granted, not the bravest, not the smartest, and certainly not the most competent, but you have proved your worth more than once. It’s not about what you have, it’s what you do with it, and-”
“Administrator Luna, I think I understand what you mean.”
“We need to make sure this does not happen again. I’m counting on you.”
Dr. Green cut in again. “No pressure you know! Just sayin’!”  Great. Now she’s in an even worse mood. Thanks Green.
“Well Dr. Green, since you seem to know all there is to know about this investigation, you shall be Frost’s new assistant!”
Dr. Green grimaced at her suggestion. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Alright! I need all photographs on that tablet! I don’t care if it was taken with a toaster! Every pixel can be used! Noteworthy! I need you to sort out all civilian reports! We need to know what they saw, and when! Can someone please get me Davenport! I don’t have all day!” I’m probably hyped up on eight different energy ciders. Normally, I’m reserved and lenient towards my co-workers. But when I’m hooked, serious shit goes down. “I need another tablet for the reports! Someone get me another bloody tablet!”
“Dr. Frost!” What do you know. Green’s actually trying to help. “We’ve got somepony who wants to talk to you!”
“Don’t  keep me from it! Who?!”
“A survivor sir! She’s from Fort Howard!”
It pains me that we have to practically scream at each other to hear ourselves over the noise all the commotion is making. “Well why didn’t you say so! Bring me there!” Green promptly escorted me to the holding cell with a security feed showing me the inside. In it, a pale yellow mare with an elegant pink mane. Her cutie mark appeared to be a trio of butterflies. She seems rather reserved. “Poor pony. What’s her name?”
“Fluttershy. She tried holding up inside a store till one of our agents found her. She was armed with a squirt gun.”
“Not a fighter I imagine.” The poor filly shrunk in her chair. “She seems pretty shaken up.”
“Yah. I’d imagine narrowly escaping flesh eating corpses isn’t real good for the nerves.”
“May I speak with her?”
A click echoed throughout the room. “She’s all yours.”
FLUTTERSHY:
“It’s alright Shy. Just take deep breaths. It’ll be over before you know it.” It’s one of the few things my friend Twilight said before... Gah! Why?! Why couldn’t those monsters just take Equestria and leave us alone?! I want to be back in my bed! Back in my room! What went so wrong?! Just leave me alone!... I don’t think breathing deeply is helping.
“Erhem! Excuse me.”
Oh dear. A visitor. Get a grip Flutters! This might be the one colt who changes everything. “Oh my. It’s no trouble. I don’t mind.” The one greeting was a pale cream colored colt with a golden mane that has been brushed rather hastily. Since he wore a lab coat and small square glasses, I assumed his professions were similar to mine. He doesn’t seem very mean.
“Fluttershy, right?”
“...Yes.”
“All right. Fluttershy, my name is Dr. Frost. I work at this little establishment. I assure you you’re safe here.”
That’s what they said at Howard... “I hope I’m not getting in the way of anything. You can go back to what you were doing if that’s okay with you...” I, in fact, realized it would be much less stressful on me if he just left.
“It’s no trouble at all! In fact, you being here makes my job even easier!... Oh sorry. Am I talking too loud?”
It hasn’t occurred to me that I involuntarily slumped in my chair. “No. It’s okay. Really. It is.”
“Well, um, Fluttershy? I would normally recite this in a more formal manner, though hardly anypony understands it, so I’m going to just explain why you’re here in simple Equestrian.”
“Oh... You don’t have to.”
“Trust me. It would lessen the needless wording.”
“...”
“According to your statement earlier, you’ve identified yourself as a resident of Fort Howard. Is that not correct?”
I thought it would have been obvious by that time. “...Yes.”
“Well, recent reports have said Fort Howard has been compromised, overrun, and destroyed. Is that correct?”
“...Yes.”
“Can you recall the events leading to the incident?”
Well, he’s successfully hooked my curiosity, which for me is very rare. “Um... Sir, if it isn’t too much trouble, may I ask why you need to know this?”
Frost scratched his scalp a bit before answering. “Well, the info isn’t technically classified, so I guess it’s safe to tell you.” Safe to tell me? Oh... My. “There’s suspicion that the destruction of Fort Howard might be the result of... Foul play.”
Foul play?! The very idea that something of this magnitude would be done on purpose... Oh... No... “You think there’s somepony out there who would want to do this? Why... Why would anypony want to do this?” I let droplets escape my eyes. I’ve never really cared if someone saw me cry. It happens too often to raise any concern. “That’s... awful.”
“I know it’s hard, but we’re stumped without anything to go on. You so far are the only documented survivor of Fort Howard, and could know of information that may help us.” He laid his hoof gently my shoulder. I didn’t know why this was, but I felt slightly better. “We need you to go back in time, and recall anything you may have found unusual. It can be anything. A pony, a piece of equipment, even a reason as to why somepony would want this.” Though it would be nice if they didn’t put so much pressure on me to remember something this important. But I had to try. I didn’t want to just sit and scream this time. I wanted... To help... Wait!
“It’s the Fort!”
“I’m sorry. Pardon?”
“I’m sorry, though I think this would make your search slightly easier. Fort Howard has never been the nicest. Many policies Howard administers often frustrate other ponies. I heard they even cut the wall management salary in half to make room for urban development for a completely different fort. I’m thinking maybe the reason somepony would do this is because of something the fort itself has done. Not the ponies in it. I hope I’m making sense.”
“Ponies who don’t like the E.S.A. Not too far of a stretch. This might be some act of revenge. But what would trigger such a thing? By any chance you wouldn’t happen to have something I could use to learn more about Howard, would you?”
I reached into my saddlebag that I slid into the corner. “Here you are. I hope that’s enough to work off of. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
I exchanged the magazine in return with a hoofshake. “You did great Fluttershy! Don’t worry about it. But if you remember anything else, just ring us up.” He unlocked and opened the steel door. “Until then, feel free to stay here. Dr. Green will be more than happy to show you our guest room.”
“I would?” I guess it’s safe to assume that’s Green’s voice.
DR. FROST:
I’ve probably spent a solid twenty minutes locked in a staring contest with the cover of this magazine.
“Howard Post: Getting you to the top of the class!”
This book was one of our only ways to support recreation; the others being television and radio. It’s a shame we have yet to see what these forts have done to our work since the first issue was published. I have overheard sensational propaganda being among its flaws, though it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. So why was I so hesitant to skip through a couple of pages and get to the events column? Well that’s a stupid question, me! Isn’t it obvious? I’m afraid of what I’ll find. The E.S.A. has a far from flawless system, and we know that. It’s nay impossible to get anything done because we’re always butting heads with each other. The culprit in most, but not all cases, would happen to be these Liberals (hippies) and Conservatives (rednecks) clawing at each other and the higher ups. We can’t simply agree on one thing and stick with it. God knows what the forts have been doing under our muzzles with that in the way. “Alright Frost. You need to do this! It’s your duty!” I reassured myself I was ready to take the challenge. Hope for the best, expect the worst. I flipped to the first page.
Well, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. We have the standard E.S.A. intro and a family of four in the corner to brighten the mood. “Ah yes. Those were the days. If only it were possible to have something like this again.” I comforted myself in the thought of having a small watch that could turn back time. All the trouble would rush by as the age of the landscape rapidly decreased. Lush green grass would soon curl out from the ground blossoming flora from all corners as the warm sun would shine upon smiling ponies, all blissfully unaware of the previous (or future) Equestria they have just escaped. For the first time in a while, I was actually in a good mood. That changed rather quickly though as I flipped to the second page.
It’s as if the columns themselves have been written in blood. Report after report, riots, vandalisms, even suicides, lining each page from edge to edge. Plans for rebellions and takeovers exposed one after another. Every last paragraph, every last snapshot, every last page progressively worsened as I flipped through. The pictures themselves cradled ludicrous amounts of fire, likely birthed from crudely made molotovs. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought the magazine itself was burning. Bad news has spread through and through as I disdainfully ingested the marvel of exactly how angry these ponies were. What makes this even worse is that any of these rebels and separatist could be the perpetrator. I know for a fact Fort Howard’s demise hasn’t been the work of a single mare, but the possibility of hundreds being in on this? We’ll have a bloody war on our hooves. It’s amazing how fast the whole atmosphere of the magazine has shifted from one page flip. It’s almost as if it was trying to hide this from me. And now, the E.S.A. will have to dig much deeper than normal if they want to know more. I know I certainly do.
Achievement Unlocked!
Health Inspector:
Weave your way through the farmer’s market.
No Guts, No Glory:
Fight off the horde.
Serious Business:
Reach E.S.A. Eastern Headquarters
Canon Characters FTW!:
Successfully interview Fluttershy. With Luna’s permission of course.