//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: Dearly Departed // Story: Everfree // by Dusk Quill //------------------------------// A single gunshot put the zombie pony flat on its back. Starlight leered down at the undead creature with loathing and disgust. He had had enough of their games. Stay down this time, fucker… he mentally chided and gave the body a hard kick. There was only one other room he hadn’t checked that the key Eclipse had found could open up. He stood before the double doors, eyeing them suspiciously. He had come to swiftly learn that nothing was ever as it seemed in this place.         So when he saw a set of unassuming, locked doors, he immediately feared the worst.         Slipping the key into the lock, he turned it slowly, listening to the click it made, and pushed them both open. They flew inward, and bright light glared into his eyes, making the bat pony recoil a step. He shielded his eyes with his hoof till they had adjusted, then took a good look at what he had uncovered.         A massive library lay at his hooves. Tall bookcases dwarfed everything else in the room, each one filled to capacity with a tome of some sort. Long tables stood in two rows down the length of the room, covered with an assortment of materials and a heavy layer of dust. A large chandelier hung from overhead, illuminating the entire archive with bright, welcoming light.         Starlight was impressed. For the first time since he had set foot in the Everfree Forest, he felt safe here. The sound of the zombie pony shuffling back to life behind him begged to differ. He rolled his eyes and cast a disparaging glance over his shoulder at the shambling creature.         “Oh, just stay down, why don’t ya?” he muttered and put another bullet in its head, watching it collapse to the floor before shutting himself in the library.         Locked away in the silence of the library, Starlight took a moment to collect himself. His situation was not looking good, but he wasn’t in dire straits just yet. He was down to his final magazine in his rifle, and his pistol had a full mag to go, with a hoofful of bullets still currently loaded in it. Starlight cursed himself for not being more preemptive and conservative with his equipment.         Perhaps he should’ve scavenged some ammunition from Eclipse’s body. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time given the circumstances, but now that he had a chance to reflect, it had been stupid to waste the opportunity. I wonder if I could get back over there, he deliberated, then decided against it. It would probably cost more bullets than it was worth just to fight his way back.         Starlight listened to the soft echoes of his steps as his hooves clopped against the hard floor. He trotted calmly and collectedly across the library, staring in awe at the massive collection of knowledge somepony had clearly accumulated over a great period of time. There had to be a book for just about everything in here. He momentarily considered how the collection stood up to Canterlot’s Royal Archives.         Somepony’s been keeping themselves busy. He smirked at his own thought while he passed a table strewn with books on geology and practical applications of magic. At the end of the table, a single sheet of paper lay beneath an odd, octagonal paperweight. A short note lay scrawled across its surface.         Ordinarily, Starlight would have paid such a trivial, commonplace item no thought. However, the unassuming little letter stood out in the sea of archaic literature and pages completely covered in studious notes. He set his gun on the table and, gently removing the paperweight, Starlight lifted the letter and read. Isingoma,         I couldn’t seem to catch up with you in this labyrinth of a house, so I’m just going to leave this here for you to find, considering you all but live in the library these days. I will be spending most of my time in my study or down in the caverns beneath the mansion, performing my experiments. I would greatly appreciate any assistance you would like to offer. I think I may have finally found the solution to our problems, so another issue like the ones with Chameleon and the butler should no longer arise.         I’ve left your key on top of this letter. You’ll need it to access the caverns now that I’ve bolted it up tight to keep anypony out of. Please don’t lose it again. I truly do not enjoy having to hunt down such a small object in this place…         — Silence         Starlight cocked his head as he read the peculiar note. The names were strange—foreign and enigmatic. He had never heard ponies called by such names before. Perhaps they were more common centuries ago. His eyes turned from the letter back down to the paperweight he had tossed carelessly across the table. He lifted the heavy stone object, looking at the emblem embossed in it. It was an eight-pointed star.         This thing is a key? he thought, questioning how such an object would even function as a key. He shrugged, and tucked it away in his armor. If somepony was saying it was a key, who was he to doubt them? If nothing else, he was sure he could find some use for it.         Caverns beneath the mansion, huh? Starlight grabbed his weapon again and made for the door. Guess I know where I’m going next.         Blackjack had given up the ghost. Midnight felt her heart leap up into her throat as she tried in vain to swallow back the wave of emotions that rocked her body like a wayward boat in a monsoon.         The stallion that had once been so full of life and vitality now lay slumped over on the bench out on the balcony, cold, pale, and lifeless. Dozens of bites and scratches covered his body, and thin, drying trails of blood from each told of each agonizing infliction. The skin around a couple wounds had begun to turn a purplish color, as if they had begun to bruise before he died. It looked as if he had exsanguinated slowly and painfully.         Midnight retched and leaned away, taking slow, deep breaths to calm down her churning stomach. Blackjack had been a close friend ever since she joined Ghost Team. Seeing her comrade broken and bloody only made everything that had happened up until then that much worse.         “He had just gotten engaged…” she whispered to the pony standing just behind her.         Fleethoof felt the empathy tug at the corners of his mouth. His dark eyes stared with pity at the deceased soldier, looking into his glassy, empty eyes. He had been dead for some time now. Strangely, the whites of his eyes had turned a pale red. Probably from whatever killed him… Poison, maybe… he concluded.         “Poor bastard…” Fleethoof muttered while shaking his head. He looked down at the pistol in the pony’s hardened grip. The slide sat locked back, indicative of an empty weapon. At least half a dozen brass casings littered the ground. “He went out giving one hell of a fight.”         “It wasn’t enough…” Midnight Dasher was clearly beyond consolation. Her honey-gold eyes shut tight. Try as she might, she couldn’t block out the reality of what had happened.         “I’m sorry, Midnight.”         The filly shook gently as she choked back a sob. Fleethoof felt his heart wrench as he watched her break. With sympathy twisting at his insides, he sat down on the cold, damp floor beside Midnight and embraced her, cradling her gently as the first wave of warm tears cut through her fur. She grasped onto his side, holding him tightly, as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded to the world.         Fleethoof slowly rubbed Midnight’s back as she cried into him, glancing back at the pony on the bench. He had clearly been a good friend to Midnight to get her to react like this. He could empathize as flashbacks to the war danced in front of his eyes. He knew the anguish of loss she was feeling.         “Please…” Midnight said, mumbling so softly into his jacket that he almost didn’t hear her. “Please… Tell me we’re going to get out of here… Please, I just… I need to know we’re gonna get out…”         It took Fleethoof a moment to reply. “We’re going to get out—”         “Mean it!” Midnight’s words had come so fast and harsh, it took the pegasus by surprise. She looked up at him, golden eyes ablaze with desperation and torment. “Say it and mean it. I can’t hold on to empty promises, Fleet… I just… I need to know—honestly…”         A moment of silence passed between them as the tension ran like electricity in the rain.         “Are we going to be all right…?”         “I’m going to get you home, Midnight. I promise.” Fleethoof spoke with such conviction in his smoldering eyes, Midnight instantly felt relief begin to untangle the knots in her stomach.         She managed to force a small smile. Between sniffling back the tears, she hugged Fleethoof tighter and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.         “Thank you… Can we please go now…? I don’t wanna look—” She paused, her voice breaking. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”         Fleethoof nodded, and gently urged her back to her hooves. He made sure to keep his side pressed to hers, corralling her back towards the door they had come through while diverting her eyes from the ghastly scene Blackjack had become. The balcony had been a dead end for progress, and left them with only a couple rooms left to search on this side of the mansion. Still have the whole other side to go…         As they approached the door, a shuffling noise behind them made both Fleethoof and Midnight stop where they stood. The ponies turned to look at one another, and then turned around when they heard the noise again. There, standing just behind them, was Blackjack.         Midnight could feel the blood drain from her face. Blackjack was standing up as if he had been alive the whole time. That’s not possible. I checked his pulse! she thought in a frenzied panic. To her side, Fleethoof looked as petrified as she felt.         Fleethoof knew something was wrong with Blackjack immediately. The bat pony wasn’t standing up properly, and opted instead to hunch over slightly on his right shoulder where it had been wounded. His head hung slightly to one side and he twitched whenever he moved. The pony’s eyes had become completely overcome with an ethereal red glow, replacing the pupils and irises almost entirely.         “Black…?” Midnight spoke timidly, too afraid to take a step toward her friend. “Is that you? Black, are you all right?”         The pony didn’t respond. It took a shambling step closer to the two. Fleethoof instinctively lifted his weapon—only to have Midnight’s hoof push it back down. She was giving him a cold glare. Fleethoof stared at her like she was insane, their eye contact and expressions speaking volumes.         “He could be okay,” said Midnight Dasher.         Fleethoof gave a hard laugh. “Midnight—”         “At least let me try!” She turned back to the pony. “Blackjack, please, say something. It’s me, Midnight. Don’t you recognize me?”         Blackjack stood completely still, eyeing the two ponies in a manner Fleethoof didn’t much care for. It was quiet for what felt like ages, with nothing but the soft falling of rain breaking the silence. Then the pony gave a deep, guttural growl. Fleethoof saw the muscles on the pony’s back ripple with tension.         Without a word, Fleethoof grabbed Midnight and tore the door open as the pony lunged at them. He tossed Midnight roughly against the far wall and brought a hoof up into Blackjack’s face. He made contact, and the pony’s skull snapped backwards as he flew through the air across the balcony. Fleethoof slammed the heavy door shut and turned the lock. A second later, hard scratching was heard on the other side of the door.         “Blackjack…”         “He’s gone, Midnight! He’s acting like one of those things!” said Fleethoof. “I’m sorry, but Blackjack is gone. He’s being controlled by something else now.”         Midnight looked pleadingly at him, her eyes desperate for some solution. “But maybe I can reason with him—”         “Midnight!”         The glass from a window behind them flew inward in a flurry. Fleethoof turned on reflex, even though he knew Blackjack would be standing there amidst the sea of debris. The pony growled and turned on the two, crouched like a predator, ready to strike.         “I changed my mind,” Midnight said quickly.         “Run!”         They took off down the hallway like the building was on fire. Fleethoof could already hear the thundering hoofsteps behind them. Blackjack was fast—much faster than he expected a pony with an injured leg to be. Whatever was happening to him must have been preventing any pain or damage from being felt.         They rounded a corner, and Fleethoof waited behind. He listened as Blackjack came hurdling after them.         Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!         Thwack!         Fleethoof timed the swing of his hoof with the steps. He ended up taking Blackjack down with a hard clothesline to the head, watching with satisfaction as the pony ended up flat on his back.  The moment Blackjack was down, he tore down the corridor after Midnight. The filly had gotten a decent lead on him, and was running right for a small stairwell. She dove over the railing and charged down them. He was right behind her, hurdling the railing—and slipping on a step.         OH FUC—! Fleethoof felt the wood make contact with his face before he could finish the mental profanity. His world spun, and the next thing he knew, he was collapsed, twisted upside down on the floor. His body ached, and he groaned as he struggled back to his hooves. His vision was spinning out of control.         “Fleet, this way!” Midnight cried out, pushing him in the direction of a room just beneath the stairs. She helped him in past the door while the sound of heavy steps shook the floor up above them.         Once inside, she kicked the thick door shut and fastened the deadbolt lock. The room looked like some sort of medical station. Fleethoof stumbled over to the desk and leaned against it while closing his eyes. He had to let his equilibrium readjust, and fast.         “You all right?” Midnight asked, stepping over towards him. “That was a nasty spill you took—”         The door shook violently as something hit it with great force. Midnight shrieked in surprise and jumped backwards, bringing her weapon up. Fleethoof grit his teeth. Blackjack had found them—and had them trapped, as far as he could see. He heaved a deep breath and stood up again, spotting something right in front of his eyes. A note from Blackjack, stating he had been here prior—how ironic.         “Black, please, stop this! Please!” Midnight’s voice was shaking, and she was clearly more scared than she ever had been. “What do we do, Fleet? We can’t get out!”         “So we fight,” Fleethoof said in reply, pointing his gun at the door.         “No! We can’t— I mean, it’s Blackjack. I can’t—” Midnight’s voice cut out again and she collapsed against the small cot behind her. She had a pained, conflicted expression on her face.         Fleethoof glanced at her briefly, not taking his steely gaze away from the withstanding door. “Midnight, he’s trying to kill you! Why can’t you?”         “Because he was the only pony to actually like me when I first joined the Lunar Guard, okay?!”         That got Fleethoof’s eyes off the door, even as it buckled inward from an especially powerful strike. He could see the inner turmoil behind Midnight’s glassy eyes and defeated posture as she curled up on the bed. Crystalline tears were spilling down her cheeks again, a sight unlike any he had ever seen from the typically boisterous mare.         “It took the others a lot of getting used to my jokes and pranks before they started warming up to me… But Blackjack was just always nice. He said I was like a little sister to him, always bugging him, but in an affectionate kinda way…”         Fleethoof’s posture dropped. He lowered his gun and slowly trotted over to the bed. Midnight glanced over at him as he climbed up and joined her, sitting down beside her.         “You two were that close, huh?”         Midnight flinched as the door rattled on its hinges and a frustrated growl was heard. “Yeah… He's my best friend...”         Aside from the constant assault on their barricade, silence overtook the ponies. Fleethoof didn’t know how to respond right away. The pony that Midnight endeared so much had just been killed and was now trying to murder her. He would’ve been more surprised if she hadn’t gone into shock.         “And now we’re gonna die out here because I can’t do anything and it’s my fault and I’m sorry, Fleet, I just can’t. I’m sorry!”         All at once, Midnight began to cry again. She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. She quivered lightly, screwing her eyes shut in a dramatic attempt to stop the tears. Fleethoof set his gun down at his side and pulled Midnight back into his hooves, holding her close. He gently rocked back and forth with her, humming a soft tune from his childhood as she came crashing down.         He wanted to tell her that they were going to be all right. He wanted to let her know that everything was fine, and they were going to get out of this. But in his heart, he didn’t even know if that was the truth. Blackjack had become one of those creatures—to what extent, he didn’t know. If he was bulletproof as well, they were done.         “I never got to see all of Equestria…” Midnight murmured between sniffles after a moment. “I’m gonna die, and I never got to see much of anything beyond the Shades…”         Fleethoof took a deep breath and ran a hoof through Midnight’s mane. The gentle rubbing on her head seemed to calm her down. Talking seemed to help too.         “I never got to see Trottingham…”         Midnight looked up slowly as Fleethoof spoke, a baffled look on her face. “W-What…?”         “Trottingham. I have friends that say it’s one of the most beautiful towns in Equestria, right on the coast, surrounded by woods…” He shrugged slightly. “I always wanted to see it for myself… Never got to see the Shades either.”         Midnight gently grasped at one of Fleethoof’s arms around her. “I never got to know what it is you do.”         He chuckled. “You’re gonna die never knowing.”         “It was worth a shot,” she said, getting another laugh from the pegasus. “I never got to go to the Grand Galloping Gala…”         That one took Fleethoof by surprise. “The Gala? You want to go to the Gala?”         Midnight nodded, a small, wistful smile on her face. “It’s every filly’s dream to go—even for a filly like me. One night in a beautiful castle, with royalty and dreamy gentlecolts, living like a fairytale even for just one night…”         Fleethoof was silent for a long while, just listening to the pounding on the door. The wood had begun to crack and groan under the weight of the battering it was enduring. He was surprised it had held so long.         “Do you want to go…?” He looked down at Midnight with a little smile when she gave him a confused look. “To the Gala, I mean. I’ve been invited—all military officers typically are. I wasn’t going to attend, but if you wanted to go so badly, I’d take you.”         “You mean that?”         Fleethoof nodded. “If we get out of here, I’ll let you live your dream for a night.”         A genuine smile slowly crept over Midnight’s lips.         “I’d like that… When we get out of here.”         A chunk of the door flew off as a hoof broke through. Blackjack’s enraged snorts could be heard clear as day now as the pony threw his entire body against the barricade. Fleethoof cast a glare at him, and Midnight just closed her eyes. Another heavy attack later sent the door flying inward off its hinges.         “Just… please make it clean…” Midnight said, and buried her face in Fleethoof’s chest.         Fleethoof was no longer paying attention to her. He slowly reached across the bed and picked up his pistol. Blackjack gave a growl and advanced on the ponies as Fleethoof drew a bead on his head.         Please, Celestia, let this work…         Blackjack tensed for the kill. Fleethoof squeezed the trigger. The explosive gunshot sounded particularly loud in the confined room. Midnight jumped in his hold. He had fully expected some sort of death rattle from the pony, but Blackjack just took the bullet right above his left eye and dropped like a ton of bricks. He lay on the floor, his hoof twitching once, and then he was still.         Fleethoof held his breath, just waiting for Blackjack to get back up again. He never did. A pool of dark blood had begun to form beneath his skull. His transformation into one of those cursed creatures must have not been completed.         “I’m sorry…” he heard Midnight whisper against his skin to her dead friend. “I’m sorry…”         Setting the pistol down again, Fleethoof hugged Midnight as she quivered with each quiet sob.