Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Liquid ran down my cheek as I lay silently on a small patch of moss. Stalks of reeds brushed against my sides causing slight irritation. All in all though, I was in a peaceful place. Osiridium sat by my side, my eyes lightly closed and eyelashes fluttering in the wind. Red circles surrounded his teal coloured eyes from crying and a large bandage covered his entire abdomen. He breathed with a rasp and did so heavily, as the horrible images of what occurred haunted his mind and the feeling of pure terror. Escaping was difficult; he had had to kill four ponies. The green one survived and limped away soon after he had received a knife to the chest. Osiridium carried me for a mile into the city, until he found a dry riverbed. He lay me down and cried.
He sat on the grey jagged stone, cold from the lack of sun, examining my injuries that he had roughly bandaged. Small patches of blood had seeped through the white fabric which was snuggly about the many gashes that decorated my dull orange body. We resided underneath a cracked cobblestone bridge as vines draped down from the sides like unpleasantly fragranced curtains. Beneath the bridge and for a few metres to each side lay a damp riverbed. Graffiti plastered the concrete sides and small trickles of infected water ran their way through the cracks in between stones in the direction of the ocean. My L115 sat on a rock with my coat and knife; two extra magazines packing .300 Winchester Magnum (standard) rounds protruded from a pocket, each contained five shots of lead hell for whoever was on the receiving end of said rifle. Although I had fired the rifle at anypony else about eighty-eight times, I had only managed eleven headshots from memory. My most well remembered kill though was when I was about 16. I had suggested splitting up in order to check a larger area (I know pretty amateur right?). We had walked into a tunnelled train system with hundreds of bends and blind corners. We were surrounded by dank air and the confusing smell of iron filings that could be recognised in the “skirting boards” for want of a better term.
The path I was taking was blocked by a pile of rubble with the back of a train sticking out. The door was bent and rusting but jammed nonetheless. I wrapped my hoof about the handle and tugged. The door didn’t budge so I braced myself and pulled as hard as I could. It ripped off its hinges and threw me onto the rails making a large racket from practically being thrown off in the distance from whence I came. The noise echoed through the tunnels causing an eerie reverberation that resounded about my body. I stood up, a little shaken, and placed my hooves into the locomotive. The seats that lined the sides were tattered and ruined from years of decay. I walked through the carriage and came up to a seat that faced the front of the train; a grey curve protruded from the side, sending mysterious shivers down the length of my spine and making some of my fur stand on end. My whole body was shaking out of fear of what was on this chair. I looked around the corner.
“AAH! JESUS FUCK!” I screamed as the head of a skeleton pony turned towards me. Rotting flesh was scattered around the body on their bones. In surprise I had knocked down the armrest. It flipped down with a click and the skeleton fell to my hooves. A book inhabited the seat pocket, it had yellow and curled pages and some a little scorched around the edges. It was otherwise fine sustaining surprisingly little damage. I looked down at the corpse that lay by the chair. Using my magic I levitated him off the floor and onto a different chair before reaching into the pocket. I pulled out the book and read the title, “Archibald Ives, My Struggles”. The cover depicted a white stallion with a garrison cap on and a smile plastered on his face. “Interesting,” I thought to myself, “That’ll be a good read.” I tucked it into my coat pocket before walking forward into another carriage. As soon as I had done this, a silhouette turned to face me. I force instantly and reached for the sniper rifle. Pulling it out, I walked slowly in the pony’s direction. When I got close enough to see the face, it was mangled and torn to pieces with a cockroach crawling around in the empty left eye socket. I felt my stomach turn as a retched stench entered my nostrils. Unfazed by the massive rifle in my hooves he brought up a pistol, a Luger P08 to be exact. It was aimed at my nose a rotting finger on the trigger. I had to think instantly. I brought my back hoof up and thumped him one in the ribs. I then placed it accidentally in his opened chest cavity which was met by a disturbing squelch of his intestines. The WW2 pistol fell onto the floor out of his reach as I aimed the rifle towards his face. A wave of emotion suddenly rushed through me that halted me momentarily. Enough time for the mutated being to kick me away and grab the pistol. I knocked into a chair that made me sit down and the mutant pointed the pistol directly at my face. I could see the bottom of his lungs expanding and contracting as well as the hole in his intestines where I had planted my hoof just seconds earlier. I had let go of the L115 because of the force of the kick and it clattered about for a few seconds while the incident was happening.
We stayed in the same position for about a minute. By then I was wondering why he didn’t just shoot me at that moment. Quietly, my horn illuminated slightly as I levitated my rifle. The ghoulish creature didn’t notice and I let it drop into my right hoof. At this I kicked out his back leg making him fall to the ground where I did not hesitate to empty a bullet into his brain (not the kill). Blood splattered out along with small pink blobs of his deteriorated brain, slapping against my hooves and staining them in the sickliest way. I stood up and ran back to the rear of the train where I hopped onto the tracks and swiftly retraced my steps. I bumped into Osiridium on the way. He was panting loudly and didn’t even see me as he raced around a corner. He smashed into me, knocking me over so that he lay on top of me his snout was nestled against mine and his hooves stretched out to break his fall. I groaned in pain as he lay there. Very quickly he rolled off me so that I was able to take a breath without the weight of a pubescent stallion compressing my chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” He apologised.
“Why were you even running round there?” I asked angrily.
“I heard gunshots and I was hoping that you were alright.” He said in a defensive tone. I sighed and said, “I’m OK. I just met a little resistance and had to take them out.”
“Who was it?”
“What was it more like.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It may as well have been a frigging demon. It had one eye left and its chest was open!”
“What happened to your hooves? They’re covered in blood.”
“No shit Sherlock! Anyway, I shot him in the head. He was lying on the ground and I had to shoot fast and his head was the closest thing.”
“Calm down and take a breath. It’s like you’re machine gunning me.”
“Sorry, I’m just pumped up with adrenaline. Don’t worry about me.”
We lay on the tracks for a while, catching our breath, while the echoes of the station kept our ears occupied and our nerves on edge. I was the worst; almost every sound was like the struggled breathing of a ghoul. The action replayed itself through my head over and over again like a cassette tape that was continually being reversed. Although needless to say, I had the last laugh.
We stood up after a while and recollected our thoughts. Splitting up was no longer an option due to the previous circumstances. After a unanimous decision to check things one area at a time, we went down the path that Osiridium had been previously exploring. We walked in silence, conscious now of the obvious possibility of resistance that we did not want to have to deal with. We came up against a pile of rubble that was anchored onto the ground by the gravel that surrounded the tracks. It looked to the untrained eye to be impenetrable. But I had seen things others hadn’t. I had had brain sprayed on my hooves and eyeballs pop out of eye sockets. I could see a trail of ants in almost pitch darkness so I thought that my eyes were pretty well bloody trained. But alas, the wall held fast and any hoofholds were usually taken up by other sharp bits of rubble. Admittedly, I was stumped at this point. I had no idea how to get past other than turn back and go the other direction to find another way through. Although, this plan had problems as that meant having to go through that damned train again. Who knew what lurked underneath the seats in the later carriages but it seemed like the only option unfortunately. We retreated back the way we came trying our best not to make too much noise. As we neared the corner, we halted. There was a noise coming from the direction of movement. It was a dull groan like a zombie and there were a lot of hoofsteps. I decided to peer around the corner to check what was producing the noise. I regretted doing so some seconds later as the track was covered with about twelve creatures exactly like the one I had killed. All boasted different deformities, for example, one of them had a tail growing out of his shoulder and another had their head turned at an almost 360 angle.
They instantly noticed my presence signified by the turning of heads and with one, the turning of half a head. Osiridium popped up behind me and went silent at the sight. Slowly, he reached for his saddlebags but I held his hoof away from them in case they were willing to attempt to negotiate. I walked out in front of them and placed down my rifle before emptying my pockets of anything dangerous like my balisong knife. “I am peaceful.” I lied to the crowd. There was no voice that answered. “Do you speak English?” I asked. Still nothing happened. “Fine, Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” (Do you speak German?)
“Sie haben unserer Gruppenführer getötet.” (You killed our group leader.) Said the ghoul with half a face.
“Enschuldigung?” (Excuse me?)
“Unserer Gruppenführer.” (Our group leader.)
“Ah, es tut mir leid. Aber er…” (Ah, sorry. But he…)
“Sie werden ausgehen oder wir werden sie töten.” (You will leave or we will kill you.)
“Nein, Ich habe dein Gruppenführer nicht getötet.” (No, I haven’t killed your group leader.)
“SIE LIEGEN!” (YOU’RE LYING!)
“Warum sind ihr so wütend?” (Why are you so angry?)
“Sie haben unserer Gruppenführer getötet.” (You killed our group leader.)
“HALT, Ich kann nicht Sie verstehen! Ich habe dein Gruppenführer nicht getotungen.” (STOP, I can’t understand you! I haven’t killed your group leader.)
“Ok, dann Sie werden töten.” (Ok, then you will be killed.)
“Was?” (What?) I blurted out as the ghoul began to pace towards me. He was followed by the others as they menacingly walked in our direction. I quickly took control of my weaponry and aimed the Sniper Rifle at the crowd though they seemed unfazed. Well, there were six times more of them than there were of us and they probably were unable to see the danger that awaited them. I was shaking all over in fear and I am pretty sure that Osiridium was too. My concentration was broken by an almost deafening noise coming from my right. I covered my ear in pain that was amplified by the fact that I had not expected the sound. I turned and saw Osiridium with a pistol held in his magical aura that was aimed at the demonic ponies. One member of the group had fallen dead on the floor with a pool of blood around his torso. Osiridium noticed my pain and apologised. But there was no time to acknowledge this as my friend had just been barged down by three ghouls that had sought revenge on their fallen comrade. I was soon tackled by one that started to thump me in the face with his decaying hoof. I screamed as blood splattered out of my nose with each punch along with punching half of my tooth out. I tried to shield my head but he was doing his best to make sure that I endured massive pain before I died. He pushed down on my closed eyes causing them to pulse with surges of agony. When he let up, tears streamed down my blood stained face. The horrible creature then continued to strangle me, constricting my windpipe and making me gag and rasp for air. He motioned for others to help him and soon I had four others, two of them female, standing over me. One of them punched my ribs while another kneed my crotch. I was trying my best to stop myself asphyxiating by trying to rip away the hoof that pressurised my throat. The ponies were stronger than they looked though. One pony sat on my stomach causing me to become more winded than I had felt before. By this point, I thought that this was the end. My miserable life flashed before me too fast to recognise specific events. I felt the horn on my head have a sharp and sickening pain inflicted upon it as a mare bit down on it and shook my head around.
All I could see was darkness as the mountain of pain began to dull. I felt like I was floating in mid-air but was soon grounded when I felt something removed from my throat. My eyes burst open and I realised that I was still being attacked. But the thing that was strangling me was gone. I moved my attention now to the others attacking me. I was still in immense pain but I could now think a little clearer now that I was not being constricted. I brought my hooves back and pushed off the pony eating my horn. Now I could use it to my advantage, I thought. It turns out that just because the horn is made of keratin does not mean it is immune to damage. I attempted to use my magic to move the hell bent killers off of my body but it was so badly hurt that I couldn’t even illuminate it. It was then that I noticed the pain in my pelvis. A mare had been kicking it for a few minutes and it was now practically black and blue from the constant punishment that was worsened by the pain in my ribs. They were being pummelled and I was shocked that I had not broken one yet. Using all of the energy that I had left, albeit minimal, to roll out of the attack. The pony sitting on me fell off and landed on his coccyx. It was quite funny what happened next. The mare that was kicking me accidentally clocked the ‘sitter’ in the temple, knocking him out. I moved as fast as I could away from the two attackers (I crawled away) to try to avoid even more pain. I was easily caught up with though and they picked me up by the shoulders and threw me at the ground. I lay there as they stood over me. I could vaguely see Osiridium struggling to contain the trio that were attacking him. I rolled over to look the heartless killers in the eyes and was met by the final four (along with the two that were still in action after my beating). My face was smeared with blood and my body covered in bruises. The pony with half a face leaned down until our faces were within inches of each other’s. I could smell his rancid breath and feel it sting the inside of my already bleeding nostrils. He laughed an evil laugh before knocking my nose with his forehead. I heard a click and received a surge of agony rip down my face making me pretty sure that my nose was broken. I yelped as further tears emerged from my eyes.
“Du bist ganz lustig mit alle das Blut.“ (You’re quite funny with all of that blood) he said to my face. I tried to retaliate but I simply didn’t have enough energy to do so.
“War das spass?” (Was that fun?) He continued. “Du musst nicht unserer Volk totungen.“ (You must not kill our people.)
Before I knew what was going on the ghouls were laughing at me. I felt ashamed that I had done nothing to defend myself and that I had let myself get nearly killed so easily. Their cackles were heart rending and soul destroying. One of them walked around and placed his hoof on the fur between my legs. The previous tenderisation caused jolts of discomfort to race through me. He made a valiant pose before stamping down and walking away guffawing as he went. I lay almost unconscious out of sheer pain and fear that I had not noticed them leave me. They had walked over to where Osiridium was struggling with his load. He had a mare attempting to wrestle his hooves to the ground and a stallion that was holding back the kicks that were giving him no end of trouble. The final stallion had stolen his saddlebags and had begun to tuck into the food in there. He pulled out a jar of honey that had been barely touched and tried to work out how to open the twist cap. He looked like some sort of insect as he did this with his teeth bore trying to pull it off with force. I observed helplessly as the scene unfolded. I tried my best to numb the pain that my horn was causing by softly caressing it in my hoof. I knew that if I was ever going to get out of here alive, I would need my magic. My other hoof was preoccupied with holding my chest from instinct but I kept feeling the need to relieve the pain in my crotch. I knew that Osiridium couldn’t do that, mainly because he was a stallion and I didn’t think that I wanted him seeing my ‘private areas’ at all never mind having to deal with the pain in that general body space. I didn’t believe that I was ready for him to be looking.
I saw the four ‘lead ghouls’ saunter up to Osiridium. Half-face began to talk to him, probably saying the same thing as he had done to me. He ordered the attackers to let up their assault. He then kicked the tired stallion in the ribcage making him crawl into a ball and groan. He followed this up with another kick that hit Osiridium’s spine. Secretly, Osiridium used his magic to pull something out of the bag. Insect (that guy who was eating all of Osiridium’s food) had not noticed because of his random task of opening the jar of honey and he seemed stumped on this rather odd job. He had pulled out a small test tube with a clear liquid inside. There was a rubber cork in the top to stop it from spilling and burning through his saddlebags. After removing the mechanism, he brought it close to his body where, in one swift motion, he spun round and sprayed the ghoul in the face with a tube full of concentrate sulphuric acid. It fizzled on contact and was met by a scream. Half-face’s head was being dissolved in front of my very eyes. He groped at the burning flesh as it liquidised and dripped down into a small brown puddle with smudges of white, pink, red and grey. His body slumped to the floor with a brainless skull left balancing on his spine. I was shocked at how easily this leader figure had been dispatched.
It took all of my efforts to stand but I managed eventually. The remaining ghouls were now kicking at the body on the floor. Insect had given up the ghost on opening the jar and had returned to rummaging in the bag. I walked, slowly, towards the action but decided against it. I paced to the right and kicked over Insect before grabbing his ear in my mouth. It left a horrible taste on my tongue but it was worth it to throw him into the crowd and knock three of my enemies. Insect was small enough that I could get enough force in the throw to distract the group for a few seconds, enough to allow me to trip one of them up, thump another in the side of the head and uppercut a third. By this point it was only me and the mare that had done such damage to my crotch. She instantly reached into a pouch (cut into her flesh) at her side and pulled out a pistol (a Glock 17). She pulled the slide back and an empty shell casing sprung from the mechanism. It was aimed at my eye in an attempt to cause maximum harm to me. Using my magic would be too obvious and my sniper rifle was too far away for me to roll away and take control of it. So I rapidly reached around inside my coat and pulled out the balisong. I flipped it about so that the blade was bore.
“Ha, Ich bin besser, Ich habe ein richtige Waffe!“ (Ha, I’m better, I have a true weapon!) The mare said cockily.
”Nun wollte dich eine Pistole eine Messerstecherei.“ (Well you brought a gun to a knife fight) I returned before lunging forward out of nowhere to plunge the knife into her chest. She dropped her Glock as I twisted the blade about. I retrieved it and cut along the length of her throat, killing her on the spot. She fell off the blade and I was left there, standing in the midst of twelve bodies with some still alive. I picked up the mare’s pistol and shoved into one of my pockets before wiping the blood off my knife before closing and sheathing it. I walked over to Osiridium and helped him up. He was in a better situation than me with only a few bruises but when he saw my face, he gasped and instantly attempted to clear away the blood. I yelped as he ran his hoof over my broken nose and held him away from my face. “Sorry,” He said quietly
Searching the bodies was relatively unsuccessful. Our haul was comprised of: A Glock 17 (with forty extra rounds), a flip knife, a Leathermane, a dead bee, a box of fish food, a jar of jam and a house key, plus thirty-four grenade pins (I forgot to mention, we traded in grenade parts, each had different values [Grenade Parts: Pin: 1, Lever: 5, Timer: 10, Hammer: 20, Percussion Cap: 25]). By now I had accumulated a worth of 98 or the equivalent of three percussion caps, one hammer and four pins. The battle had not proved to be fruitful so we took the useful stuff, the weapons, jam and money, and walked cautiously away from the scene. We were both limping from the pain but we had to get out of the area. God only knew how many more there may have been.
We had to go through the train though if we were to get where we were going (Költ) as well as being able to inspect as much as possible while we were there. Osiridium led the way and I unwillingly followed him. The first thing he noticed was the skeleton that I had left on the floor. “Oh, ok. I wonder what he did to get so thin.” He laughed at his own gag but was silenced by an evil stare to say that he had gone too far with the joke. We continued walking through, entering the next carriage. Then he noticed the horrible smell and noticed the dead ghoul on the floor, his Luger lying underneath a chair. Osiridium picked it up and studied it meanwhile I was almost vomiting in fear and from the fetid stench. I couldn’t bear to look at the body of the creature that I had murdered almost without thinking. After looking at the pistol, Osiridium turned to me. “I have checked this weapon and it seems to be in relatively good shape for its age.” He stated.
“How do you know how old it is?” I asked.
“It’s a Luger P08.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a German pistol.”
“So how do you know how old it is?”
“BECAUSE IT WAS USED BY THE FUCKING NAZI’S IN THE WORLD WARS, OKAY?” yelled the blue stallion in irritation.
“Whoa! I was only asking. Jeez, you hardly hesitated to talk about that.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I don’t see how I know the age of a pistol as useful. I’m sorry I shouted and talked about the part of German history that’s not talked about.”
“You’re just lucky that there’s no police left.”
“Anyway, there are six rounds left in the magazine and one in the chamber. The iron sights have been all but ground to bits and the barrel has a little bit of carbon in it. Apart from that this gun is in good shape.”
“Oh, that reminds me, I need to give you that pistol I found on that ghoul mare. I’ve never fired a pistol before and I don’t intend to start any time soon.”
“Wait, you’ve never fired a pistol?”
“No, I like my rifle more.”
“I have to teach you.”
“I’m fine thanks; I think that that’ll just complicate things.”
“Shut up and deal with it.”
“Ok.” I said defensively.
We walked on into the next few carriages until we came to the last three. The first contained no seats and only beds, presumably where the ghouls resided. The second was a little more helpful. Stacks of locked chests were piled high in the corners and a few ammunition boxes lay strewn across the floor of the car. “Jackpot!” I said loudly. We started rummaging through any boxes that were unlocked. What we found was an invaluable gold mine of resources. Upon shooting open a box with the Luger, we found about fifty jars of jam and one jar of honey in the centre for no apparent reason. Osiridium shoved a few jars into his saddlebags and I put a few into my coat. Another box contained a pile of toy soldiers, not useful. The next had a tent (which Osiridium strapped to his back with some duct tape that we found in the subsequent box). After a short while we had run out of ammunition and we threw the Luger away and started cracking open the ammo crates. A few contained 9x19mm parabellum rounds said to Osiridium while he shoved a few bullets into small pouches in his bag. One contained a bullet that was longer than both of our horns. I knew instantly what this round was because I had seen them before. They were .50 calibre BMG shells, strong enough to punch through a couple centimetres of solid steel. Unfortunately, I was unable to use it in my sniper rifle as they were too large. One box contained grenades and I had no idea about how they worked. I knew they exploded but I didn’t know how so I pulled out the pin with the idea of getting more money but what instead happened was that the lever on the side pinged off. Osiridium, who had a basic knowledge of grenades, cursed and took it off me and proceeded to throw it back down the train where it exploded with a ball of fire and clanging noises as shrapnel hit the walls. He pulled me away as some ball bearings flew in our direction. One of the steel balls hit a crate, knocking it over and spilling its contents of marbles. “Bloody hell, what was that?” he shouted.
“I’m sorry, I had no idea!” I said through frightened sobs.
“You didn’t know? Some excuse that is!”
“I don’t know how grenades work!”
“It’s kind of obvious don’t you think?”
“I didn’t think and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, your damn right you didn’t! You could have killed both of us.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“I have no idea how you didn’t know that when you pull the pin out of the fucking grenade, it goes off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you have any idea what I would have done if you had been killed?”
“NO, I’M SORRY OSIRIDIUM!”
“I WOULD BE LOST WITHOUT YOU!”
“I’M SORRY!”
“STOP SAYING THAT YOU’RE SORRY, I UNDERSTOOD THE FIRST TIME YOU SAID IT!”
“I FEEL TERRIBLE!”
“YOU’RE LIKE A SISTER TO ME!”
“AND YOU’RE LIKE A BROTHER TO ME!”
“DO YOU WANT TO DIE?”
“I’M SORRY OSIRIDIUM, I AM SORRY! SORRY, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY!” I cried, tears of both sadness and fright dribbling down my face in rivulets that dripped off my snout to the floor. Osiridium, standing imposing over me, rubbed his eye that had pricked a small tear. He turned his head to the side and moved back a step. I was packed up against the wall that was unattractively decorated with some bad smelling chocolate wrappers and a torn and wrecked satchel that had nothing in it. I gasped for air through each painful sob as I tried to regain control of the situation. I wiped away the tears and sniffed loudly.
“Just, don’t do anything stupid okay?” said Osiridium guiltily.
“Did you have to shout?” I asked sheepishly, expecting uproar.
“You could have killed the two of us.”
“I know but, aren’t we friends?”
“Of course we are, but you have to learn that even if grenades are unused for about a decade that they are still dangerous.” This was followed by an awkward silence that loomed in the air between us.
“Can I have a hug?” I asked nervously.
“Er,”
“Come on, it’ll be the first hug that I have had in three years.”
“Um, okay.” He put his front legs about my back and stroked my fur. I did the same with my limbs, except without the stroking. The embrace was affectionate and homely, the kind of feeling you get when you come home from the rain and a flame is flickering in the fireplace. I liked the feeling of his hooves safely protecting me from the elements and his snug hold and warm breath that brushed my neck.
“Thank you.” I said as he pulled away slowly. We sat there in a comfortable silence that was filled with a friendly air. I sniffed again, still trying to get over the crying. “We should probably get going now.” The stallion advised.
“Alright,” I sighed, just as the hiccups started.
We stood and walked to the door taking care not to slip on any of the glass marbles that had been strewn across the floor. There were tiny shards where some pieces of shrapnel had smashed through some of the toys. My back hoof stood on one of the balls and slipped out from underneath me. I lost my balance for a few seconds but managed to hop my way out of the spread of the marbles into the door that separated the carriages. I stopped my uncoordinated movement before I clunked my head on the door. “God you are accident prone aren’t you.” stated Osiridium jokingly. I laughed quietly at his poor attempt to make me feel better. Well, to be fair, he did a good job of it as he made me laugh.
I swung open the door with my magic to enter the driver’s car. As the door opened slowly, my nose was polluted by a disgustingly putrid odour. It smelled of brie cheese, vomit and mussels thrown into a plastic bag and left out in the sun for three days. Behind the door lay a horrific sight. Bodies were piled up on each side with a corridor (floor covered with corpses) that led to the door. I closed my nostrils in the hope that I would be able to get away from the stench and the surprise of seeing a mountain of dead ponies at the end of the train.
“Well, I guess this is where all of the passengers went.” I said through my held breath because I hadn't the ability to pinch my nostrils to stop the smell from entering due to its injury. I looked back at Osiridium who was looking a little light headed. I put my hoof around his shoulder and led him towards the door. I was not in a much better situation for I was feeling queasy for the first time in a while and I was reminded of the horrible feeling. When we reached the door, I accidentally put my hoof in the gaping mouth of a corpse. It plunged through his tonsils and out the other side. This pushed me over the line. I ran through the door onto the track and vomited on the gravel. It was filled with remnants of the tinned asparagus that I had had for lunch (I had stolen it from the food stock of a bar in the terminal building). I coughed out phlegm as Osiridium came behind me and patted my back. I stroked my neck from the stinging, acidic nature of bile that was being projected from my mouth onto the floor. I started retching as nothing more was coming out of my stomach. “Sorry,” I said painfully.
“No problem. I don’t blame you.” Said my companion reassuringly, patting my back. I shivered as all of my lunch was literally lost and had to sit down against the wall of the tunnel to get my breath back.
Yawning made me realise how tired I actually was. I had been in in a fight for I don’t know how long just half an hour earlier. All of me hurt as my body turned black and blue with bruises smeared blood red with cuts. I leaned my head on Osiridium’s shoulder. Not expecting it, he turned his head towards me and made sure that it was me who was touching him. He was a little haphephobic at times (afraid of being touched) so it was kind of a lottery with him. For example, sometimes I would tap his shoulder and he would twitch and ask me not to touch him but at other times, like now, he was perfectly fine with the physical contact of someone else. “You tired?” he inquired.
“A bit, yeah,” I said through a small yawn.
“Let’s find somewhere to sleep then.”
We started walking away from the train that had caused us many a problem. There was a small opening in the wall that contained a power generator and a ‘notausgang’ or an emergency exit. The sign was not illuminated as should be expected but the door swung half open on one hinge. The bar had fallen off and the glass in the window was foggy and cracked. We closed the door as best we could by putting the bar underneath it to stop it from swinging. When I noticed the generator I felt my breathing speed double and my pulse increase. I stumbled back and into the wall, trying my best to close my eyes and think happy thoughts. The only problem was, I did not have many happy moments to think about. I thought that my happiest moment was when I saw Osiridium standing at my bedside in the hospital after my mishap. The only problem was that my mishap was caused by electricity and made me paranoid about electronics. Osiridium noticed my distress and journeyed into the fenced off area and made sure that it was not producing any electricity. It wasn’t of course so that calmed me down a bit yet still, we both knew that I wasn’t going anywhere near that thing.
Osiridium was a very understanding friend. He respected and understood my fear of electricity and made sure that if we were ever to come across live electricity that was exposed, he would to do his best to soothe the pain of bad memories and reduce the fear. We lay down side by side like penguins to conserve heat. I used my coat to cover our chest areas from the cold as we shut our eyes to attempt to sleep. I tried my best to ignore any hunger pain or adrenaline burst from the action earlier. Of course I had no proper idea what time it was but gaging by the time that we had entered, I figured it was about seven o’clock.
The concrete floor made rest difficult. Miniature stones jabbed into my flesh at any opportunity and I constantly had to brush the floor. I eventually found sleep after a few hours of tossing and turning to try and find a better position. It was well needed as such respite was infrequent and random for it is not recommended letting down ones guard in such a time of anarchy from political and civil collapse. I woke up when Osiridium was already awake. He had used a combustion spell to light some coal and soot that he probably found around the rails. My back was as painful as anything and my legs felt like jelly. A can of something was being held over the fire with magic that cooked the contents slowly and pleasantly (I preferred slow cooking to magic cooking). Osiridium, facing me, noticed my eyes flutter open and grinned. “Morning sleepy head,” he said nicely with his soothing voice that was hard to achieve with a German heritage. I smiled back and nodded. I had laid my rifle against the wall last night but it was now lying down because it had probably slipped. I felt very cold though and shuffled my way towards the warmth of the small fire. I sat up and warmed my hooves. No sooner had I done this that I felt a pain emerge in my stomach. I groaned and rocked back slightly. I had no idea what was going on and I got a concerned look from Osiridium. Soon my question was answered but the situation could not have happened at a worse time. I felt dampness in the fur around my genitalia and a droplet of blood fell to the floor.
“Oh fuck!” I said exasperated.
“What, what is it?” asked the stallion, noticing the blood.
“Just turn around,” I ordered.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Turn around Osiridium, now.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I’M ON MY PERIOD OKAY?”
“Ok, sorry.” said the surprised pony as he turned his back to me. He faced the wall and didn’t dare look back on pain of distrust. I performed the business necessary to deal with the release of blood from the womb with a tampon that I found in a pharmacist not too long ago. Once finished, I hid away my genitalia by brushing over the fur in that area.
“Alright, you can turn round now.” I said. Osiridium turned back towards me and looked down at the place where I had leaked some fluid onto the floor. He was a little miffed at my furious reaction but decided to forget about it and just dish me out some rice in some sort of watery liquid.
The food was tasteless but it filled the emptiness in my stomach anyway. It was nothing special, as was any other meal that I had had after the bombs dropped. My period pains were starting to aggravate me to the point where I told Osiridium to not talk to me so much unless it was an emergency. We packed everything up, leaving our rubbish behind us for there was no one to say that we had to bring an empty can with us. The fire was snuffed out and we continued to walk. We were walking for quite some time until we came to an underground terminal. A small reptile scuttled along the floor in front of us and up the staircase that led to ground. There was a board on the wall picturing the layout of the system as well as a board with an upcoming movie that was supposedly out on March 14th three years ago. There was nopony in sight so we walked silently up the stairs after the lizard. On the next floor were cracked tile walls with overhead signs labelling: the toilets, the terminal, the ATM and the exit. We followed the direction that pointed towards the exit before scaling another flight of stairs and appearing in a worn out structure. There were sandbag walls around the place and even a machine gun mounted on a bipod that stood on a café counter. There was a belt of ammunition that was strung from the side. It was piled up on the side in a pyramid shape. I walked cautiously towards it but was stopped when I saw someone poke their head over the table and yell in my direction.
“HALT! Advance forth one to be recognised!” shouted the rugged stallion in my general direction. On his helmet was a flag that I could not quite recognise from this distance. He placed his hoof on the gun and aimed it at us. I walked slowly forward until ordered to stop.
“FOXTROT, ALPHA!” he called out.
“Um, Romeo, Echo?” I replied in the phonetic alphabet that I had learned at ten years of age.
“STAND TO!”
“Stop, wait!” I begged, realising the gravity of the situation. We had just walked right into an encampment. Some more soldiers stood in their positions. Most of them were placed behind sandbag walls and held assault rifles. They were bullpup by the looks of things (the magazine is behind the pistol grip) and had what looked like an ACOG scope but I knew that it wasn’t. Whatever they were using, it sure wasn’t German.
“What nationality are you?” I asked, concerned yet trying my best to stall them and maybe get away.
“British!” was what was returned.
“We speak English, we can negotiate.”
“How do we know that we can trust you?”
I reached round and pulled out my sniper rifle, half covered by the coat and connected to a bracket on my back that I had used to carry it. I placed it down and threw everything else from my pockets down next to it. I made sure to be careful with the Glock as I placed it down gingerly. I reached down once more and switched the safety catches on each to safe.
“And you!” said the stallion to Osiridium who put his saddlebags on the floor and opened the flaps. What looked like a commanding figure stepped out and inspected the gear. He stopped when he looked at my rifle.
“Is that an L115A3 by any chance lass?” he said in a very difficult accent to understand.
“Er, yes sir.”
“Don’t call me sir, I work for a living.” said the stallion.
“Yes,” I inspected his rank slide, “Corporal?”
“Where did you get this?”
“Er, from a military base.”
“Was there anyone there?”
“No.”
“What was the flag like?”
I peered at the flag on his brassard and said, “Like the one on your brassard, Corporal.”
“That’ll be the flag of the UK lass.”
“Why are you calling me lass?” I asked, slightly aggravated at the constant use of the term.
“I will call you what I want kid! I am of a superior rank.”
“I don’t even know who you work for! I sure as hell don’t work for you! You don’t own me!”
“You shall show me the respect I deserve and shut the fuck up you bitch!” As soon as the last word left his foul mouth, I made it obvious that he had crossed the line.
“You shall give me respect you shithead. You will not refer to me as ‘bitch’. Nor will you refer to me as ‘lass’ or ‘kid’. I shall be called ‘Static Charge’ or ‘Static’ by everypony independent of social status.”
That shut him up. He squint both eyes and brought his face close to mine. “Don’t push your luck; you’re lucky we aren’t shooting your harbour lights out!”
“I’m so afraid!” I said fearlessly and sarcastically. He turned his back and walked off, inviting us to follow into a small café called ‘Starbits’. The corporal vaulted the cracked counter and ground some coffee into a cup. The black liquid streamed out of the two nozzles. I was distracted when he asked,
“How old are you guys?” I was quite confused at such the colloquial language that he was using.
“Er, I’m sixteen.” I stammered.
“And eighteen,” said Osiridium a little more confidently.
The corporal turned round after picking up his finished drink and dropped two sugar cubes into the frothy topped coffee and continued to stir with the end of a stirrer, “And your names are?”
“Static Cha…” I began but I was interrupted, “I know your name, you told me!” he said, “What is YOUR name,” he said, pointing at Osiridium and nearly spilling some of the piping hot drink. Osiridium stated his name and the NCO nodded and took a sip. “The name’s Corporal Neighthan.” said the stallion with a slight whinny in his voice when it came to his name.
“You will refer to me as ‘Corporal’ or ‘Corporal Neighthan’. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir!” I said chirpily and jokingly. He gave me a stern look that seemed to say, “I would kill you in your sleep if I had the authority to.”
“I’m only joking!” I said just as enthusiastically. Behind me, Osiridium sniggered.
“Was that supposed to be funny?” asked the pissed off corporal.
“No, I’m laughing because I’m an orphan!” said Osiridium sarcastically.
“How you wish that that was amusing.” said Neighthan calmly even though I could see that he was fuming on the inside.
“Oh shit!” I said as he unsheathed a pistol and twirled it around his hoof by the trigger guard.
“This, my friends, is a Sig Sauer P226. It is chambered in 9mm pistol ammunition. It was a collaborative effort by the Germans and the Swiss, quite useful if I do say so myself!”
“Sorry, you know that I’m joking eh?”
“I know. I just wanted to see what your reaction was when I got my gun out!”
“Okay, I’ll stop teasing okay?”
“Right answer” he said nonchalantly. An awkward silence ensued only broken by the slurping of coffee.
“Anyway,” I said, stretching the word out of general concern and the want to change the subject to something more desirable, “Why did you not kill us on sight?”
“Because you’re not ghouls.” I looked confused at his statement. “We’re so used to seeing ghouls coming out of that railway and ... Why are you twitching girl?”
“N-Nothing,” I replied nervously.
“Are you uncomfortable or are you in pain?”
“It’s nothing, continue.”
“Ok, as I was saying, we are used to ghouls because sometimes they come up looking to get out and we can’t let that out, the wasteland’s bad enough as it is and we don’t need that out there.”
“I see,”
“We’ve been assigned to keep this place safe from attack and we’ve been here for four weeks, eating anything edible in the shops and drinking the coffee from the café. We’re originally based in Darmstadt, our Air Marshal, army is better, is called Birch. He’s a fricken Aussie!”
“Can you give us a direction because that actually sounds ideal. Is it guarded?”
“Yes.”
“Any direction?”
“Head East-South-East from here for about a day and you’ll find it.”
“Thanks, can we have a map?”
“No map,”
“A compass?”
“No compass,”
“Anything?”
“Nope,”
“Well how do I know if I’m headed in the right direction?”
“Just never veer from your course,”
“What if I do?”
“Well then you won’t get there. I dunno, use something to mark your direction.”
I gave up arguing and just looked away. My ears pricked though when I heard a scuttling noise behind me. In the corner of my eye, I saw an insect like creature crawling underneath the radar of the sentry. In an action that I thought I would regret, I whipped the corporals pistol off his hoof, span around and pulled the trigger in the general direction of the animal. The bullet ripped straight through its head and embedded itself in the floor between the legs of the shocked stallion. The ghoul fell to the floor and bled from the head. I breathed heavily in shock, and the aforementioned stallion had collapsed on the floor from fear. I turned and looked at the Corporal who had a mixture of confusion, fear and awe plastered on his scruffy face. I couldn’t believe that I had just done that.
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Tally ho chaps! Why not give this story some more love? It isn't bad, and by that I mean it has potential, just needs a bit of work here or there. Even if you just skim it, hold out for updates. It's evident that he's willing to update it at some point, so I expect it'll get better with time.
It's good to see aspiring writers being brave enough to post their work for all to see. It takes some serious balls and I'm pleased to see writers like this spreading their metaphorical wings. Keep up the good work, and don't forget to listen to your commenters chap, they are a huge help (I always take the advice of my commenters to try and improve their reading experience, and improve myself as a writer).
Write on, aspiring writers everywhere!
4923371
You made a grammatical mistake:
Why not give this story some more love?
There shouldn't be a ? there.
JK, thanks a lot and keep it up!
<3 Metric
4923378 Ah ha, but that is where you are wrong!
I wrote it as a request, and 'why' is one of the five (or is it six?) question words. Pretty much any sentence beginning with who, what, when, where, why or how is bound to be a question.
I conclude by maintaining my ground and insisting I have not made incorrect use of grammar and that I am
a Nazia Communista high standards kinda guy.Try not to pick people up on their grammar too much. It annoys people. There's a time and a place, but here isn't one. Still, my flag remains planted and I believe that the story is good but needs work.
That is all for now. Tally ho!
Oh, PS. Next time I would consider not being that rude to your commenters. You're lucky I have a cool head. I know it was intended as a joke, but some may not take it that way. Just a bit of advice, writer to writer.
4922064
That is a British thing. We spell things
the correct way,the way that they're supposed to be, the English way.4923430
Psssht, Americans invented English.
4928366
Riiiiiight