Outskirts

Chapter Five

Silly Cone Die Ox Hide

If there was one good thing that could be said about the ponies in Smuggler’s Cove, it was that they didn’t give up easily.

I hadn't even had time to properly lose myself to the void of unconsciousness when they came running out from underground, guns blazing. About a half dozen of them, chewing away at those pressure triggers, sending bits of lead whizzing through the dry desert air.

I moved as fast as I could. A hop, skip, and a jump and I was back in the juicer under one of its bench seats. I heard hooves meet wood as Vanity and Warrick flapped up onto the juice truck to take cover behind the cabin.

It was strange. Even though I ought to have been hyperventilating into a paper bag out of pure terror, all I could think about was how much I wanted to buck Warrick for dropping the gun he had used to shoot the screen in Brazen’s office. Because now we were pinned down by gunfire, while trapped in a juice machine on wheels. And it was all his fault. However, considering that the whole reason we even went to Smuggler’s Cove in the first place was to look for my parents, this is all technically their fault for allowing themselves to be captured. But then if you want to get really technical, you could say that it was their parent’s fault for birthing them in the first place. And by that logic, you could trace this all back to the beginning of time. In which every event that has ever transpired in all of history has in a some way, shape, fashion, or form effected the universe and brought it about that at this exact interval of time, I am here, under a seat in a juice car, waiting to be perforated by a bunch of slack jawed cultist ponies while my sister and the creepy sexy cyborg pony that we saved get the same treatment just a few feet away. And this all gets to happen in the middle of the Celestia damned desert!

Or, Warrick could just wait until they have to reload and turn them all into cold cuts.

It all happened incredibly quickly. A slight wobble in the cart’s chassis as he took flight, then the cacophony of sounds that would make the toughest of toughcolts cringe.

I curled up against the hard cabin wall and listened to the sounds of nature.

SHPLUNK!

The familiar sound of somepony’s head leaving their shoulders.

CRAK!

Bones snapping in the dry desert air.

SPLSH!

A...Well I’m not quite sure what that was, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable for whoever it was directed at.

It was like watching a horror movie with the video turned off, and it was horrible. But I had been more relieved at that moment than I had ever been since leaving Raincap. We were, at least for the time being, safe. At least, that’s what those sounds made me think. Then again, for all I knew Warrick could have just been shot dead and I was in here listening to him die thinking everything was sugar and rainbows.

“Well, I suppose if that is the case, I might as well meet my end with dignity.”

I crawled out from beneath the bench and made my way to the cabin door. Before I could even raise a hoof, the door swung open and there was Warrick, holding two of the guard ponies’ guns in his mouth by the leather straps. Redemption for his prior stupidity. He tossed them into the truck and wiped his mouth, cringing at the taste. I looked at the weapons. There had been at least six guard ponies, I was sure of it.

“Why only two?” I asked.

“The others had blood on them,” Warrick stated, shrugging off the question.

“But, couldn’t we just wash them off? We might need them later.”

Warrick waved me off.

“Come now Periwinkle, we’re not savages.”

“Awfully snooty,” I chided.

Especially for somepony that seemed perfectly fine with drenching himself in the bile of mutant ponies not but a day ago. But I held my tongue. Warrick seemed like the type of pony that needed a reason to make a decision, and if he chose to only take two, there must have been a better explanation than that it made us look barbaric. At least I hoped so.

“Uh, can I get up now?!”

“Oh, damn it Vanity,” Warrick sighed, climbing up onto the chassis of the juice car.

I lurched out of the cabin and into the sand, letting it warm my hooves for a moment before following Warrick up onto the stage-like front end of the juice car. There was Vanity, huddled under the podium like a filly hiding from the imaginary monster in her closet. Warrick stepped over to the podium and waited a moment.

“Guys? Are you there?” Vanity asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

Warrick looked at me and smirked. He bucked the podium lightly and Vanity shrieked, jolting out from under it and falling into the sand.

I snorted and began to giggle. Vanity got to her hooves and joined in the laughter while dusting herself off.

Warrick approached the front of the juice car, sitting in the plush red recliner chair flanked by a system of levers that appeared to have been thrown on after the fact. I noticed something on the door of the truck that I hadn’t before. Scratched and faded lettering that I could hardly make out. From what I could tell, it had once said Super Cider Squeezy and then some number that had several zeros.

I had figured (and hoped) Warrick was just kidding about us having been riding around in a juice maker.

The Cider Squeezy’s engine roared to life as Warrick pulled and shifted the levers. He grinned and let out a grunt like cheer. I hobbled over to him, trying my best to keep weight off my bad leg.

“So, where are we off to next?” I asked.

“Depends, do you still want to find out what happened to your parents?”

“Of course.” I answered, a touch defensively.

“Well then,” he said, getting comfortable in his chair, “Next stop, Ponyville II.”

<<-------------------------------------------------->>

Sand. A naturally occurring material made up of the the coarse, finely granulated remains of minerals such as silica (usually in the form of quartz) or calcium carbonate. In some instances, sand can even be comprised of more exotic things such as bits of sea shell or coral.

From a scientific viewpoint, sand is quite fascinating. It’s simply mind boggling to try to imagine that over countless eons, massive chunks of mineral and stone slowly eroded, being chipped away piece by piece; then those pieces became smaller pieces, and then those became smaller ones still. Until eventually what were once enormous structures, mighty and formidable, are evolved into a sea of wavy grains that can be seen everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. Because sand gets everywhere.

As brief as my time in the desert had been, I was really beginning to hate sand. And between trying to get the devil’s dirt out of my bandages and having to hear Vanity’s constant spoutings of “Are we there yet?”, I was becoming more than a bit perturbed. So I decided I’d take to my new favorite activity; pestering Warrick with questions.

“Who’s Pinkie Pie?”

I thought he was going to cough out a lung the way he choked up at the question. He regained what composure he could and shrugged as if no one saw what just happened.

“Why do you ask?” he queried, without looking back at me.

“Well,” I said, pulling the magic song book out of my backpack, “I found this in my bag, and it’s not mine. And I don’t think it’s Vanity’s, so I just assumed that-”

He leaned off his chair and snatched the book out of my hooves, meticulously examining it for any imperfections. I couldn’t help but smirk like an evil little bitch.

“So, it is yours then,” I remarked.

Warrick stopped eyeing up the song book and slowly turned towards me, his eyes narrow.

“What’s Warrick’s?” Vanity asked, climbing out of the cabin and into the brutally hot sun.

“Nothing,” said Warrick, sliding the girlishly decorated book under his chair.

Vanity’s horn began to glow a pale white and the book floated out from under the red recliner. She brought it to her face and began examining it.

“Pinkie Pie’s Magic Song Book?!” she exclaimed with her stupid little voice. She sounded like she was more excited to crack the thing open and have a party than to ridicule tough guy Warrick for having something so filly-esque.

Warrick’s eyes went wide and he climbed under the chair looking for the book. His head poked out from beneath it and he saw Vanity holding it in her magic. He leapt out from under the chair at her, his fore legs outstretched. A cloud of pale white engulfed him, stopping him in mid air. Vanity walked past him, the book still held to her face, as he thrashed about, trying to break free from her hold.

“Warrick. Why would you hide this from us?!” She asked, a broad smile growing on her lips.

Warrick stopped struggling, a puzzled look on his face.

“Wait what?” he asked.

“Just think of all the fun we could have had with this when we were walking in the sand! I mean I was so bored, we were walking fooooooreeeeeverrrrrr and had nothing to do but play ‘I Spy’ but that wasn’t even fun cause you guys kept guessing ‘sand’ are you were always right. But with this we could have had a blast!”

Okay, now I really wanted to buck her.

“Here let’s see.” Vanity opened the book to a random page.

“...Both our diets I should mention are completely vegetarian. We all eat hay and oats, why be at each other’s throats? You gotta shaaaare, you gotta caaaaare...”

Vanity smiled and giggled like a buffoon as the book belted out lyrics that might as well have been straight out of some kids show teaching the values of friendship and all that stuff. She didn’t even notice that her hold over Warrick had faded. He scampered over to the book and closed it, hugging it in his forelegs and glaring at Vanity, practically daring her to try her levitation trick again.

“Okay,” he began. “One rule.” He looked at me. “Ask all the stupid questions you want.” He looked at Vanity. “Make all the dumb, annoying comments you want. Just leave my shit alone.”

“Then keep it out of my bag,” I challenged, smirking.

He glared at me, then shook his head and went back to his chair, stuffing the book under the cushion and sitting on it. Vanity gave me that look she would always give when I’d talk back to our mother or father.

“What? He started it!” I argued.

She just lowered her head and went back into the cabin, leaving Warrick and me out in the uncomfortably hot, and now also uncomfortably awkward desert.

<<-------------------------------------------------->>

“Are we there yet?” asked Vanity, for the Celestia-knows-how-manyeth time.

“Are you serious? I mean where do you see anything other than sand? Tell me. Otherwise, at least wait till we arrive at some sort of landmark before asking that again.”

She groaned, and leaned dramatically over the driver’s chair.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” she whined, through her moans of boredom.

“It wasn’t exactly designed for off road travel. If I push it any harder the whole engine could flood with sand. Then we’d have more to worry about then impatience,” the black pegasus explained. “But, you know, if you would have listened to me and we had taken something more practical and less ‘pretty and red’, we might already be there.”

Vanity groaned and slid off the chair in an over dramatic gesture, laying next to it completely taken by boredom.

“Why did you only take two guns?” I asked, breaking what had been at least a two hour silence. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, as small as it was. It just made far too little sense.

Warrick looked back at me, giving me only the corner of his eye.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?”

“I’m bored, and you said I can ask questions,” I said, shrugging.

“Touche.”

“Guzuntite,” Vanity squeaked, her voice partially muffled by the wooden panel her face was buried against.

“They had blood on them,” he answered, reiterating the same strange excuse he had originally offered.

“So what? It’s not like you’re scared of blood. Not from what I could tell at least.” Wow. Less than forty eight hours in the ‘real world’ and I was talking like a true psychopath. Maybe he had some sort of moral or religious reason for not wanting to take something stained with blood. Maybe it’s a hygiene thing. Maybe I need to think about these things before firing off with questions and arguments more fit for a hardened convict than a Raincap High Honor Roll student.

Warrick gave me a strange look. As if he was just as surprised to hear that sort of talk out of me as I was.

“Blood has a very distinct smell,” he began. “A smell that attracts all manner of things. And some of those things are things I’d very much like not to attract. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

Dangerous wildlife? In the desert? I suppose it’s not as strange as teleportation pads or putrid psychic monsters, but still, I’d read my biology book cover to cover and even I couldn’t think of any desert dwelling species that would serve as any sort of feasible threat to three ponies.

“Yeah, I guess that’s good enough.”

“Good, cause we’re here.”

Vanity’s head shot up, her eyes wide in delight.

“And before you ask. Yes, really.”

Vanity flapped up into the air and turned to face the front of the Cider Squeezy. She stared out ahead at the endless and unbroken plain of sand dunes. She looked at Warrick, then back at the expanse ahead, then back at Warrick.

“You liar,” she said, her face scrunching up into a pout and her tone wholly judgemental.

She was right though. There was just...sand. I couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled anything but...sand.

“No, we’re here,” he said, as if she had just been being silly.

“I hate to degrade myself, but I have to agree with Vanity,” I admitted. “Are you sure the heat isn’t getting to you?”

He looked at me and rolled his eyes, his head going mockingly limp.

“Haha. Is that your professional assessment Doctor Periwinkle?”

I felt myself blushing. He used my full name. I hated that name.

“But no, I’m sure we’re here.” He got out of his chair and stretched briefly, then climbed off the Cider car and into the sand.

Vanity and I looked at each other in confusion.

“Peri, I think Warrick’s crazy. We should get him a glass of water or something.”

I face hoofed.

“Vanity, we’re in a desert. There is no water. Let alone a glass to put said water in.”

“Oh yeah...I forgot about that,” she said, grinning

Dear sweet Celestia nopony can be this dense.

“Um, ladies,” Warrick called out. “If you’re done chatting I’m going to need some magical help for this.”

“Coming!” Vanity called back, gliding down to him.

“Flight is overrated,” I mumbled, climbing off the Cider Squeezy and hopping into the warm sand. As much of a pain as it was to get the stuff out of certain...tender spots, I had to admit the warmth of the it mixed with its granular texture did make for a uniquely pleasing feeling against my coat. I trotted in place for a second then joined Warrick and Vanity, who were standing a few paces away.

“So yeah, about this encampment of yours. Where is it?” I asked, feeling overly smug.

Warrick ignored me, looking to Vanity.

“Would it be incorrect of me to assume you know spells that can be used to alter the appearance of things?” he asked.

She giggle-snorted.

“I know like all of those! I can make your mane green, I can put stripes on your coat...” She perked up as if reaching some epiphany. “I can give you pupils!”

Warrick’s pupil-less eyes narrowed.

“No, thank you. I was thinking more along the lines of light refraction in order to counteract invisibility spells.”

Invisibility spells? Did he mean Ponyville II was right here in front of us? I wasn’t sure what was more impressive about that possibility: the fact that such a spell could be cast on something as large as a town-sized encampment, or that Warrick was able to know just where it was in the middle of a desert where everything looks exactly the same.

Vanity was stumped by his request.

“Uh...I don’t really know what any of that means,” she said, shrugging her shoulders in insincere guilt.

Warrick sighed.

“If something is here but we can’t see it, can you make us able to see it?” he asked.

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say that?! I used to do that all the time for competition, but backwards to hide icky stuff like zits.” She stepped back, taking a deep breath. Her horn began to glow that pale translucent white and beams of magic shot out into mine and Warrick’s eyes.

“Last chance Warrick, are you sure you don’t want pupils? I could do purple, or, oh gosh! Imagine a nice deep pink! Maybe some-”

“Vanity.”

“Fine,” she said, clearly disappointed at a missed opportunity to beautify something.

The beams of magic faded, leaving floaters and a blinding white light in their stead. I blinked wildly to regain my sight and began to rub my eyes.

“Oh no...” Vanity’s tone was stirring. That taste, the one you get in your mouth when you just know that something horrible has happened but you want to think you’ve heard wrong. The very copperish taste. It filled my mouth.

I turned slowly around, removing my hooves from my face. There it was, Ponyville II.

And it was burnt to the ground.