//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Doctor Bolt // Story: Silent Nights // by ThePartyCannon //------------------------------// Silver drifted through unconsciousness with ease. Her mind floated along on a peaceful current of warm, enveloping contentedness. She was indescribably secure in her own world, where she was detached from the horrors of the world. But the nagging sensation of the cold nipped at her hooves. With reluctance, Silver allowed the feeling to overtake her, slowly bringing her out of her euphoric comatose state. The first thing she wanted to do in the conscious world was vomit. Her stomach felt empty, yet at the same time, felt as if she had been hit by a bag of bricks. She withstood her urge to be sick, for the moment, and slowly opened her eyes. Immediately she regretted her decision. Harsh rays of bright sunlight bombarded her eyes, practically splitting her head. The heat, though welcomed, suddenly became unbearable. Silver thrashed around, trying to escape the knife of pain that was the sun’s once-cherished rays. Her hoof struck something. A small, but heavy container, from the feel of it. Slowly, she traced the object with the tip of her hoof, running along its smooth surface. It was cold; both a relief and a disappointment to Silver, as even the thought of the extreme temperature hurt Silver’s head. After several moments, Silver opened her eyes without pain. Her eyes were still blurred though, but they had gotten better. It was more like a big light blur, opposed to the dark blur she had encountered earlier. She harshly blinked her eyes, expelling her impairment, and looked at the previously mysterious item. It was a tin can, filled with water as clear as could be. Silver lunged at it greedily, bringing it to her lips. Though the ice cold water numbed her senses, and burned a freezing hole in her head, she downed the entire can in seconds. It was a relief, having something in her. The cold liquid dripped from her chin as she sat up, examining the world. Like a dam breaking, memories of the night before rushed at her. The bandits were dead and gone, and the cabin destroyed. In total, five Stalkers lay dead. Silver winced as she remembered getting shot, and dared not look down at her flank; an entire night out in the open surely would have infected it. But instead, much to Silver’s comfort and confusion, her leg was fine. It had been tightly wound in a clean bandage, and rest comfortably on a roll of soft cloth. At first, Silver was puzzled, and her brow furrowed with concern. The wilderness wasn’t a place where hospitality was found; even between friends. She reeled back her mind, hoping to remember just what had happened. But it was all a blur; nothing came back to her. She saw the Stalker’s body on the ground, several yards away. It lay in a crumpled heap, with most of its head missing. They look so different in the light... her mind pondered, looking over the Stalker’s details in the clear daylight. It seemed smaller, like the sun had shrunk its hideous bulk. “They scare me.” Silver bounded up from her seated position, met with a prying pain inside her stomach. She spun and lost her lunch on the dusty ground. “Oh, Celestia, wow... Uh, sorry. I thought you knew I was here.” the nervous voice said, coming from behind Silver. She kept her eyes closed, feeling heat rise in her face. How could she have been so stupid as to have forgotten about the stallion? “Are you alright?” he asked, worry lining his words. Silver nodded silently. “Okay.” the stallion remarked dejectedly, “I have something for you.” Silver turned her head slightly, peeking out of the corner of her eye. The stallion had his back turned now, and was rummaging through a group of packs resting against the red rocks. A gun lay next to him, neatly polished and clean. Silver grimaced. As slowly and quietly as possible, Silver turned around and moved to the gun. The stallion hadn’t noticed her until the weapon rest in her hooves. She shakily pointed the rifle at the pony’s chest. “What do you want?” Silver asked, her dry voice quavering, “I don’t have anything worth taking.” The stallion looked up and reeled backwards, tripping over his saddlebags and landing on the ground in a cloud of dust. Though fear was the primary emotion on the unicorn’s face, a slight mask of disappointment lingered beneath the surface. For the first time, Silver was able to study his face. A white strip of cloth was tied across his forehead, just below his blue-grey mane. A bold red cross rest in the middle of the cloth, indicating a medical profession. His large green eyes stared up at her, not pleading or begging. Simply staring. “I don’t want anything.” he said, keeping completely still. “I just want to give you something.” Slowly, his hoof inched to the opening of the saddlebag. Silver tightened her grip on the rifle, and practically shoved it in the stallion’s face. Instead of backing away in fear as expected, he kept moving forward, slower than before. A dark green aura of magic surrounded his horn, and Silver noticed the saddlebags shuffling. In an instant, a small object exited the leather pouch. It was a tiny plastic container, usually used to hold pills. Instead of medicine, however, a multitude of black shapes lined the bottom. Silver took a closer look, but was still unable to comprehend what she was looking at. “What is it?” Silver finally asked. “That,” the stallion started, standing up, “is what I found buried in your leg. I think I got everything out, but it’s hard to tell; I had to do the operation at night.” Silver stared at the shrapnel, dumbfounded. Dozens of questions swarmed through her mind at once, creating a cacophony of noise in her head. She strained to pick the most logical question out of them all, but her surprise kept her from finding the right one. Eventually, the stallion interjected by waving his hoof in front of Silver’s face, “You okay? I didn't give you too much painkillers, did I?” he asked, smirking, despite the rifle still being pointed in his direction. Silver shook her head violently, expelling any fuzziness that lurked in her head. “What? No! I just-” Silver stammered, “Why’d you save me?” The stallion laughed, much to Silver’s surprise. He was odd to her. “What do you mean? I saved you because it was the right thing to do.” he explained. Silver raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Really now? Because, last I checked, no one saved anyone in the wilderness without a good reason.” The doctor shrugged and sighed, “Sure, it’s a queer thing, to have to be cared for out here. But surely you understand compassion and loyalty!” Of course, Silver knew. Old mares in villages would occasionally weave tales of old times, when traits of kindness were abound. But the days of what was, were lost, and none now lived who remembered them. “Sure, I understand,” Silver said, holding out a golden hoof, “My name’s Silver.” The doctor smiled widely, shaking the mare’s hoof, “I recognize that name... Have we met before?” “Doubt it. You don’t seem like somepony who could be forgotten easily.” Silver said, followed quickly by, “But I work as one of the six Wanderers of New Appleloosa. You might’ve heard of me there.” “What a coincidence!” the doctor exclaimed, “I’m heading to New Appleloosa! They need a doctor there, and that’s me; Bolt. Doctor Bolt. Hey!” he shouted, hopping slightly with enthusiasm, “We could go together! It’s safer that way, after all.” A grin grew on Silver’s face, accompanied immediately by the feeling of her stomach dropping. She had failed to apprehend the bandit leader, Dune, and would have to face the Constable with her news. “I... don’t know.” Silver said, staring off into the desert. Her mind raced with the consequences of failing the Constable. She might be thrown in the gallows, or the rack! They could have her drawn and quartered! Wait... Before her mind became too rustled, Bolt interrupted, “It’s the only settlement for a long way in any direction. And your leg needs a good place to heal.” Bolt explained, settling his enormous saddlebags onto his back. “Well...” You aren't going to catch him. Silver’s mind interjected, Not today. Silver sighed, giving in to her own mind’s pressure. “Okay, I’ll go with you.” she finished. “Perfect!” Bolt said, slinging his rifle over his shoulders. “If we leave soon, we’ll make it there before supper.” “Great...” Silver said unsettlingly, faking a smile. Compared to Bolt, her saddlebags were small and deflated as she threw them over her back. As the mid-morning sun loomed above them, the two ponies began their trek to New Appleloosa. ***** During their walk, the two ponies took time to learn about one another. Silver explained how she had gotten into her situation with the Stalkers, and talked about her travels through Equestria. In return, Bolt talked about his affinity for medicine, and his career as a travelling surgeon. From his expertly woven stories he described in detail the far corners of the world; places Silver had only dreamed of. From frozen rainbow waterfalls to the old dragon volcanos; Doctor Bolt seemed to have been everywhere. “So...” Silver said, after hearing a tale from the depths of the Everfree Forest, “Where do you come from originally? Like, before you moved around everywhere.” Bolt slowed his pace slightly, but picked up before Silver could notice him falter. “Oh, you know, just... around.” he answered, keeping his eyes on the ground. “I’m not familiar with ‘around’.” Silver replied jokingly. But Bolt didn’t respond. In an attempt to alleviate the awkward silence, Silver followed up with a second question, “What are you doing out here?” “I’ve been doing research on the Stalkers. Tracking them, following their patterns, and stuff like that. I just finished surveying a nest of them when I ran into you.” Silver nodded, “But isn’t it dangerous? You know, staying out all night. How do you manage?” Bolt shrugged, “I guess the longer you stay out, the easier it gets. Of course, some skill is required, but nothing too fancy.” Silver listened with a smidge of jealousy. From the stories he’d told, Bolt had been in the wilderness for nearly four months straight. Silver’s record was only two weeks. She envied his ability to survive in the hellish world without any noticeable side effects. “What’s that up there?” Bolt asked, squinting his eyes towards the horizon. Silver looked around. Salt flats stretched on in every direction, marked only by the occasional dead bush or cactus. This was the land associated with New Appleloosa; inhospitable and unlivable. Silver had traveled the flats many times before, and recognized the seemingly empty landscape. “We’re getting close,” she explained, “it might be the town.” she joined Bolt in squinting her eyes and peering off into the distance. Sure enough, there was something. Small dark splotches on the horizon, partially obscured by rising heat waves. The corners of Silver’s mouth turned up in a smile before slowly dropping with anxiety. Her punishment waited before her. “Is that it?” Bolt asked, quickening his pace. “Seems like it.” Silver responded. Still, something in her gut seemed wrong. She didn’t know what it was; it was just a strange feeling. “How have things been there? It’s been so long since I’ve visited. Years, even!” Bolt explained, increasing to a light trot. “Uh, not bad.” Silver’s ear twitched, “Food’s been getting tough though.” “That’s too bad.” Bolt said softly. As they neared the shapes, a faint smell engaged them. It was light, but acrid. It stung their nostrils slightly, and filled the air with its strange scent. “Smell that?” Bolt asked, sniffing the air, “What is it?” Silver’s mouth went dry. “Not good.” Silver exploded in a fast gallop, straight towards the town. Her hooves kicked up the salty ground into a cloud behind her as she barreled through the flats. Bolt was far behind her, but she didn’t care. She was focused on what was in front of her. Thick columns of black smoke rose from the town’s silhouette. Silver could make out where individual buildings once stood, now burned to the ground. Their blackened framework stood as ghastly skeletons in the abandoned town. As she neared the midst of New Appleloosa, the smell was so thick that it made Silver want to retch; both out of the scent and the sickly images. The walls were thrown across town. They weren’t knocked down, or torn open; they were thrown. Posts lay over fifty yards from the original locations, resting inside of buildings, or across roads. Long gashes in the dusty ground traced their paths, creating deep trenches that Silver practically had to leap over. All around her, familiar images of safety and security were demolished. The homes she frequented day after day now lay in smoldering heaps of rubble. She had brought up some of the buildings with her own hooves, and watched with a magnificent sadness as their smoldering ruins covered the scene. As far as she could see, nothing remained upright. Her eyes scanned the area, welling up with tears. That was when she saw the first of the bodies. It lay face down, halfway outside of a collapsed doorway. Its hooves were still, but appeared to have been scraping at the ground in desperate anguish, leaving thin trails in the dirt. One of the pegasus’ wings was clipped by a massive support beam, pinning it to the dusty ground. The once pink coat of the mare had been blackened and charred, leaving a hollow shell of a pony. Silver’s knees immediately went weak at the sight of the burnt corpse, and she fell to the ground. By noticing the first body, Silver had opened her mind to the realization of the others. They were everywhere. Some were burnt beyond recognition. Others were familiar to Silver, which only caused pain to the mare. A young stallion, barely of age, lay crushed under debris, twisted into a sickening position. A mare, eviscerated at the waist, rest against a post, seeming to stand in blank confusion. Silver wanted to scream, but was too gripped with the horror of the situation to make a noise. She wasn’t in New Appleloosa anymore; she was in a graveyard. Her friends rest all around her, met by their final, horrific fate. Hot tears rolled down her face, scorching her cheeks and falling onto the ground, dampening the dirt and dust. Behind her, soft hoof-falls approached slowly, almost apprehensively. “Celestia... this...” Bolt’s voice was wavering as he stood behind Silver. His sentence trailed off, joining the scores of those who were lost. Silver didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t want to. This stranger who stood before her had no clue of the pain she felt. A feeling akin to anger rose in her, directed towards the doctor. She felt like lashing out, but couldn’t bring herself to move. She lowered her head to the ground, resting her forehead on the dust. “What happened?” she asked, her voice already getting hoarse. Bolt opened his mouth to speak, but shut it soon after. After all, he wouldn’t know what to say. There were no words for comfort for something of this magnitude. Saying anything at all would only make it worse. Bolt turned, giving Silver a bit of privacy. He attempted to block out her sobs as best he could as he surveyed the wreckage for himself. Despite not knowing anypony in the settlement, he still felt a heavy knot in his stomach as he looked over the burnt houses, knowing that ponies used to live there. His throat went dry at the realization that their own houses would become their tombs. The doctor set his eyes on the largest pile of rubble. At its side, the collapsed remains of a clock tower could still be seen, though a bit mangled. He set his pace, and arrived at the foot of the ashen ruins in minutes. Almost immediately, he regretted it. A pile of bodies rest in a small opening. From anywhere else it would have been obscured, surrounded by a wall of debris and wreckage. Bolt took a small relief in that fact, knowing that Silver wouldn’t have to see the carnage. For these ponies hadn’t fallen to flame or fire; they had been murdered. Blood stained the ground under the mountain of corpses, and small trickles of the red fluid were still flowing down ponies’ faces. With his extensive medical career, Bolt went to investigate. He chose a young mare near the bottom of the pile, and drew in close to examine her. “Concussion?” he asked to himself, prodding the base of her skull tentatively with a hoof. It was true, her skull had been fractured, and rather extensively, but Bolt didn’t believe it was the cause of her death. Taking a deep breath, Bolt took her front hooves in his and pulled mightily, drawing her out from under the bodies. The amount of force necessary to remove her was much less than anticipated, and the doctor flew backwards onto his rump. As he looked up, his heart nearly skipped a beat. The mare’s back leg was gone; sheared off just below the hip. The bone barely protruded, and ended cleanly, instead of in slivers and splinters. Bolt removed a pair of spectacles from his saddlebags and moved closer. By the marks on her legs, it had been bitten off. Sweat beaded on his brow as he began to form a realization. Whipping his head around, he looked for the culprit, and found it hiding among the bodies; a black taloned appendage. “No...” the doctor whispered, more out of surprise than any actual denial, “It can’t be.” But it was. The Stalker’s leg protruded from the mass of bodies. Its talons clutched the air in a final act of desperation. Its bloodlust and insatiable hunger became the best of it, and it now lay defeated and broken. “Now, how’d you get here?” ***** Silver had recovered herself, partially, and now walked aimlessly. Her thoughts were vacant and clear, giving a sense of emptiness to her gait. She seemed to float, more than anything; like her hooves were never touching the ground that so many ponies had been murdered upon. As she walked, her head cast down in sadness and shame, something caught her eye. A small pocketbook, no larger than a deck of cards. She recognized it as the pocket journal of a local stallion. Though his name escaped her, she knew he worked at the gates, dealing with travelers and caravans. Reluctantly, Silver bent down and turn the cover over. She read the first entry, which was written in long, careful letters. 43rd day of Spring, 189 years, A caravan moved into town today. There wasn’t much. Mostly wood and a few bundles of cloth. What we need is some food. We’ve had almost a dozen births since Spring started, and we’re likely to get more. Just not enough food to feed so many mouths. And to make it worse, our Wanderers aren’t even working hard for it. That Silver mare went and got herself- She stopped reading, though it didn’t help. She knew what it was going to say, and she quickly turned the pages. Finding a seemingly random entry, she read again, 13th day of Summer, 189 years, Some trouble at the bar today. A couple- Again, she cast down the book. She needed no reminder of her drunken brawls, especially given the recent circumstances. As she sat there in the dust, reading accounts from an old book, she began to think more and more on her letdowns to the community. It seemed that every other entry mentioned her or the other Wanderers in negative ways. It turned her stomach to think of herself letting everypony down on such a large level. Her hometown, destroyed, seemed to laugh and mock her. She had failed her city, in her absence. “Silver, you around here?” Silver looked up, slowly, and saw the doctor stumbling over a felled building. She gave a halfhearted wave of her hoof, beckoning Bolt to her. “There you are.” he said, catching his breath, “I think we should leave. We’ve spent enough time here.” Silver nodded solemnly, “Sure.” The doctor stopped and stared at the mare, “Are you going to be alright?” Again, Silver nodded, a bit more lively this time, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a weird feeling is all.” It permeated the air; the feeling of sudden dread. It clung to them, seeming to gnaw away at their senses. There was no way either of them could ignore it, as it sat almost tangible in the air. Nor could either pony ignore the feeling of being watched from the shadows. It hardly moved, sitting in complete silence like a fierce jungle cat ready to pounce. It followed their voices with its keen hearing and traced their scent with uncanny ability. Slowly, it lifted one black talon forward, careful to stay in the shadows, and set it down lightly among the wreckage. Following this pattern, the hunter crossed the debris, concealed in darkness. It grinned wickedly, hiding rows of serrated teeth behind its thin lips. It could hear them clearly now. “I’m sorry, Silver. I truly am.” The voice rang out in its head, seeming to echo through its brain. It was recognizable, it seemed. Almost like it had been heard before. The feeling of familiarity was confusing, but prompting nonetheless. It took another step forward, sending one black leg forward into the sun. Unfortunately for them, the duo of ponies had their backs turned, and were unable to hear the approaching threat as it crept silently through the dust. It snarled quietly, dripping sticky saliva onto the ground. It was mere feet away before its hot breath caught the attention of the ponies. The mare turned, and instantly screamed at the sight of the creature. It was familiar, of course, but the setting in which it was seen was entirely different. The Stalker sat in the midday sun, completely unscathed and unhindered by the ultraviolet rays. Its hide, which would normally simmer and smoke in the sun until it became a pale grey color, remained as black as the night. It leaped towards Silver, talons outstretched, and maw gurgling. It would have impacted her, if not for the quick reflexes of Doctor Bolt, who delivered a wild haymaker straight to the Stalker’s snarling head. The blow made an audible ‘whumph’ sound as the Stalker was thrown to the ground, billowing clouds of dust following in its wake. Silver, who had momentarily regained control over her actions, delivered a swift kick to the back of the Stalker’s neck. Though bones snapped, it didn’t impair the Stalker, and it stood up almost immediately. Its rotten breath wafted over Silver, forcing her back several steps. The Stalker advanced, without any indication of injury, until it was nearly on top of her. At this time, a sharp report rang out through the previously-silent town. Silver saw the Stalker lurch above her, and fall onto its side. Its taloned feet writhed in agony, and its toothy maw snapped open and shut, filling the air with clicking noises. Black blood was gurgling out from a hole in the side of its chest, and was already soaking the sandy ground. Silver turned to the doctor to see him levitating his hunting rifle. Tiny wisps of smoke exited the barrel, and an empty shell rest on the ground. Bolt breathed heavily as he surveyed his kill. It was smaller than most Stalkers he had seen, but aside from the size, it was nearly identical. And then there was the most chilling fact. “What was it doing in the light?” Silver asked, rising to her hooves. Bolt shook his head in response. “Come on, you’re the expert on these things. You gotta have an idea!” Silver prodded, looking away from the deceased monster. “I... I might have an idea. But now isn’t the time; we need to leave.” Silver was about to protest, but decided against it. After all, the town wasn’t the safest place, nor was it the most comforting. “Okay... Where do we go? Dodge is the closest settlement, but it’s nearly a week away.” “Then that’s where we’ll go. I need to report this, anyway. Hopefully my contact in Dodge is still alive.” Bolt said, beginning to head towards New Appleloosa’s gates. “Doubtful...” Silver scoffed, “No one lives in Dodge for long. If the gangs don’t kill you, the starvation will.” she explained, a shudder running up her spine. She was reminded of Dodge’s Hunters; the equivalent of Wanderers. They were ruthless, and acted more as brigands or outlaws than any peacekeeping or community serving individuals. They always had a rivalry with New Appleloosa’s Wanderers, almost to the point of open conflict. There had been more than one firefight between the two groups. “Well, we’ve gotta try it.” Bolt said, picking up his pace as he began his trek through the desert. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m not forcing you into anything. Feel free to do whatever pleases you. But I’m going to Dodge.” Silver looked back at New Appleloosa, now a smoldering wreck. She gave one last sigh of depression at her hometown before turning back towards the doctor. She would have to move on, and put such things behind her. Loss would be something she would have to get used to. Because Silver was a survivor; the last Wanderer of Appleloosa.