Alleys

by Goober_Trooper

March 13th 20XX

Alleys

A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Fan Fiction

Written by: Goober Trooper

With assistance from: Ozpakko & Icrus Team 402

---

March 13th 20XX

I woke up this morning cold and stiff. It was a chilly night and my blanket was pretty inadequate. I threw on more layers of clothes around 3 in the morning, although I couldn't know for sure. It mitigated the cold slightly but not entirely. I stirred as I tossed my blanket off, and moved my legs and arms. As I tried to get my blood moving, it impacted me just how long I've been in a Poverty Zone. It was just past a year now, and the time didn't fly.

I recall my first days in the Slums. Barely. I had hope that I would be able to find a way to escape, or perhaps obtain work in a Mediocre Zone, but the Military had guns, barbed wire, and chain link fences all around this place for miles on end, and nobody would hire the "scum" that inhabited these Poverty Zones. I lost more hope month after month and slowly accepted this new reality. This is all that there ever would be for me. Scavenging for food and hoping I didn't get shanked in my sleep, but common sense and desperation helped me survive. My standards for what was consumable dropped quickly, as I discovered that I would slowly die if I only consumed clean water and hardly stale food. So I adapted. Sure, I got sick several times after consuming some particularly bad food and water, but I was able to fight through it. I did what I needed to do to survive. To do what it took to live in this shunned part of Earth.

I was warming now; my in-box aerobics finally having effect. I packed my blankets and pillow into my backpack and rolled against the side of the freezer box, which knocked it over and moved it out from between the garbage cans. I crawled out of the box, folded it, and leaned it against the wall, as I slid the garbage cans over to conceal it and hold it in place. Content with it being concealed sufficiently, I jogged out of the alleyway and headed South West down to Blugar's Park where the rest of my group would meet.

I was trudging along a typical street. Trash littered the cracked and crumbling road. Occasional rats would dart out of sight, scurrying down gutter drains and into the sewers. Not like there was much difference between the Slums and the Sewers anymore. I was passing by one of the few business left in Poverty Zone, Barney's Bunkhouse. Somehow the old guy that owned the place before the Regulation managed to hang onto it. I've never been inside, I only knew that it costs a pretty penny to rent a room there. As I was jogging by, I noticed a middle aged guy with graying hair in a brown jacket and dark pants leaning against the wall of the Bunkhouse. I put a little more effort into my steps and looked ahead. I didn't make eye contact with him and hoped to pass him as quickly as possible, but he moved into my path and put a hand out. The action was unexpected and I bumped into his extended arm. I quickly stumbled back as I looked up to him and stared him in the eye. The man swayed a bit then turned his hand over as if to retrieve something from me. He slurred out a sentence in a Russian accent. He was obviously drunk.

"All your items are belong to us."

I briefly looked at him incredulously, then remembered how I had planned to act in these situations. I took a step back and started taking off my backpack.

"Y-Yea... Sure. Just let me get it for you." I said, as I feigned stuttering and fear.

The Russian nodded and motioned with his hand to hurry up. I glanced up at him, he had his right hand on the hilt of a very large knife. It was obvious that if I made a mistake, or a few small ones, I'd be dead.

I dropped my pack to the ground and started to bend over as if to unzip it, but instead I was spreading my legs apart. Placing my self in an aggressive position. I leaped over my pack. I put my body weight behind my left fist and slammed it straight into his nose. A punch from my left hand caught him completely off guard, and he stumbled backwards landing against the building. His hand was launched far away from his knife. I instantly followed with a right hook to the side of his head.

He was stunned and already falling to the ground. His drunken state gave him a horrible effect on his sense of balance. I jumped back and grabbed a 2 foot iron pipe out of my pack. Pipe's weren't very suspicious weapons. Most were sold, melted, or reused. So a pipe on a looter could easily be confused for loot and not a weapon. It weighed several pounds but had the reach and density to do the damage I needed.

With a firm grip on my pipe, I stepped back over my pack and stood above the drunken man. He moaned on the ground, his left hand clutched his broken and bleeding nose. His right hand was curled into a fist to support him. He belatedly noticed my movements and turned his head slightly to allow his eyes to see me towering before him with a simple pipe. I felt hollow as I smashed his skull against the side of the Bunkhouse.

His blood added a new layer of filth to the stained walls. I slid my pipe out of what remained of his head, which silently collapsed onto itself, causing the rest of the body to follow suit and slide to the ground. I knew what I just did was wrong. It was bad. Nobody should ever have to do it, but times had changed. It was kill or be killed when it came to fights. Anyone that tried to be noble or honorable with his enemies usually died as they took advantage of his foolishness. Besides, morals didn't keep us alive. In fact those without morals were prospering... Or as close to prosperity as anyone could get here.

I sighed and grabbed a corner of the dead man's jacket and cleaned the blood and mucus off the pipe. I turned and slid it back into my backpack, then came back to the man's corpse and looted what little money he had on him. The knife was the valuable item he possessed. It had a 6 inch blade and a simple leather grip. It was relatively clean, but a few spots of rust covered the blade. I raised my eyebrows.

"This could be interesting." I thought, with mild excitement.

Rusty blades are crap. They can break easily and give you tetanus as well as whoever you were planning to stab if your not careful, but blades that have only a little bit of rust on them is enough to give tetanus but still have some decent integrity were pretty valuable. It was almost like built in poison.

I quickly unbuckled his belt and took the knife's sheathe and sheathed the knife. I then unzipped my backpack and tossed the knife in, but quickly realized it would be more handy on my belt instead of in my pack. So I took it out again and slid it onto my belt. I zipped up my pack again and lifted it, as I put it on my shoulders. I ran away from the corpse and towards my destination.

---

Blugar's Park was barely a park. There was a concrete sidewalk that meandered through the overgrown fields, and unkempt trees and shrubbery. Occasionally benches and picnic tables could be spotted amongst the wild fields. There were a few tents pitched in one of the lawns, but they had massive holes torn in them and were obviously abandoned. As I trotted down the concrete path I stumbled over a can, and landed flat on my stomach. I hissed in minor pain as I lifted myself from the ground and continued jogging down the path.

The incident forced me to keep better attention to where I placed my feet on this rubbish strewn sidewalk. It escaped me how much trash could be found everywhere. Worse yet no one took the time to toss it into the river or to the side of the path, at least. I remembered an instance where I used to ride the bus to work. I spotted a Doritos bag discarded under a seat next to me, so I did my part and tossed it in the garbage can at my stop.

When I was first relocated to this Poverty Zone I used to do a little cleaning. To throw trash into the garbage cans but those quickly became overflowed, and I resorted to tossing them out of common paths. Inevitably, it became what every one else does today, Ignoring the problem until you have to pay attention to it.

I passed the bathrooms. I had been in there once. I never planned on making that mistake again. I shudder at remembering what I saw in there, and it takes a lot to make me do that in this place. Public restroom's were bad enough, even when they were maintained, but a public restroom not maintained for little over a year now? The filth, the vomit, the shit, the piss... It got everywhere. The stalls were near full of it all. The toilets almost buried. It's sad that people still use that pathetic excuse for a structure, but I doubled my pace as I caught a faint scent of the retched refuse. I steered to my right, into a patch where the trees and bushes were particularly thick and followed a thin, faded path through the dying shrubbery into a small clearing.

We'd made this clearing at the beginning of the week, when Redge decided to make Blugar's Park our meeting point for said week. We'd meet here every morning and receive any new orders, acknowledge any information, or resolve any issues in our 8 man group. Then return here in the evenings to portion our shares of what we looted, report progress on any assignments, and decide on a new meeting place at the end of the week.

Redge coordinated it all, and I'll admit he did a good job at it for the most part, but he was far from a "kind" or "good" leader. He does what does because he knows it works, if you got an objection you turn and walk away. Because it's his way or the highway, as the saying went. Most of us are here for mutual need anyways, and that doesn't necessarily build trust. Due to the Prison Dump I couldn't trust anyone fully. They may be a former lower-end middle class guy like me, or some sick serial killer.

I looked at my... Comrades. As I entered the clearing. 6 of us were here, including myself. Redge was talking to a black lad a couple years younger than me. I always forgot his name, but he couldn't have been younger than what... 18? 19? He was of average height, had a torn and faded blue baseball cap, and, unsurprisingly, a metal baseball bat in his dark brown backpack. A few of the other members of our group were in small circles or looking through their gear. As they waited for the next two to show. A few of these people trusted each other enough to sleep in the same alleyway or under the same park bench.

I tend to stick to myself. After being through a few other groups and gangs, some big others small, I'd seen my fair share of betrayals and knew I needed to keep everyone at arms length if I could. Besides, I wasn't a very out going guy and I was content with loneliness. Hah, even after a year of no internet I still have images of the Forever Alone guy going through my head every time I think of loneliness.

I walked further into the clearing and brought my pack down, pulled out the fresh water bottle, and drank... And drank... And drank. I wasn't thirsty. No, far from it. In fact I hadn't drunk clean purified water in several... Weeks? Months? In my memory, days tended to meld together, yet pass by so slowly there never seemed to be a night that separated them. I quickly realized my mistake and spat any water that remained in my mouth back into the plastic bottle. I was supposed to savor this not chug it all in one go. I sighed and tossed the bottle back into my pack.

"Why didn't you show up last night?" An emotionless voice asked.

I looked up to see Redge standing before me. Redge had curly red hair and hints of a beard. His blue eyes stared down into my dark green. He had a black hat and a brown long sleeves shirt with worn jeans. A Machete hung casually from his belt. Machetes weren't common in the Slums. You either made a decent living and could buy one, if you happened to find one on sale, or were damn lucky and found one. Emphasis being on found. I shook my head and stood.

"Didn't Frank tell you? I couldn't show up since by the time we were done here it'd be close to dark and I'd be blundering through an alleyway trying to find my box. Even gave Frank my share to turn in." I replied, unsure of what the issue was.

"Yea I have a score to settle with that moron too. He didn't show up either. Now. Explain." Redge replied, his tolerance to bullshit was at it's end.

"I gave Frank my share and told him to take it back to you guys, and that'd I'd be here tomorrow, 'Cause by the time we were done here it'd be nearing dark and I'd have to stumbled around in the black looking for my box."

Redge looked me in the eye. His face expressing no emotion. Even his hands remained still at his sides.

"I want to believe you Luke, but you know... You out of everybody here. You know best that I can't trust any of my fellow damned souls to not betray me. The only people I can remotely come close to trusting are those that I can hang food, or money over their noses. Then feed it to them once they've fulfilled their role."

He was right. I knew why he couldn't trust anybody. When I had just joined this group Redge and another guy, whom went by the name of Dozer, ran the group together. It went smoothly from what I can remember, but I believe Dozer found a lead to some drug cache. He wanted to raid it and sell what he could get on the Market. Redge, however, was opposed to this idea. He didn't want to mess with some other gang's drug stash, get them pissed, and have them start going after us. However, Dozer grabbed half of our, then 33 person, group and went after that cache anyways. We can only assume they succeeded, but never returned.

Shortly after our team split the gang that owned those drugs came after us. Me and Redge were fortunate enough to not have been at the store that served as our base when they rolled in and massacred everyone there. I guess as a leader he felt responsible for their deaths, as if he could have done something to prevent them. Only now he doesn't trust anyone anymore.

I discarded the memory for the moment and simply shrugged. There wasn't anything more for me to say. In the end it'd be Redge's call. I heard someone stumble into the clearing behind me and glanced over my shoulder with an uncaring expression. A man with blonde hair, black shades and a green, yellow, and white plaid shirt with a light brown backpack was approaching the group. I recalled his name being Mike. He nodded to Redge then walked over to one of the other small groups. Redge looked over to him as he entered then returned his gaze to me and spoke.

"You've never been too involved in this group. You've had several chances to get a higher role, but you just stay as a looter... Which makes me suspicious of you." He stated.

I shrugged again.

"Guess, I'm not ambitious. I'm just content with providing you guys with food and drink. That's what I can do and I do it." I replied.

"Yea. For all I know you pawn your stuff off onto somebody and give us the scraps." Redge replied harshly.

I sighed and shook my head.

"No. We're all here because of mutual need and protection. I need that. Doin' something like that would jeopardize it." I replied.

"Unless your already hooked up with another group." Redge said, continuing to express his lack of belief me.

"Go ahead, doubt me. Not like anybody else here has been able to change your mind. You'll get your assumptions and stick with them until their blatantly proven wrong." I replied with frustration.

"Whatever, time to start today's briefing anyways... And Frank hasn't showed yet..." Redge continued with mild annoyance and disappointment.

Redge called for the rest of the group to gather round. I've forgotten what the rest of the group was assigned, it didn't matter much to me at the time. I remember hearing that the Black Kid had the name Elijah. Hopefully writing it down will help me remember it. Regardless, I was assigned several blocks to the North again. This time I was to start farther out and head back sooner. It sounded like Redge was giving me an easy day because Frank still hadn't shown up.

I recalled that the area I was tasked to cover was close to the riverfront. There wasn't much to get out of the riverfront areas... They were picked clean during the first few months. People who were fugitives or outcasts tended to hand around up there but there weren't many of them to be concerned over. After we'd all received our assignments for the day I hoisted my pack onto my back and jogged out of the clearing and back the way I came.

---

I was trudging along the sidewalk, which ran parallel to the river. I swear, I saw children or something duck out of sight on the roofs of buildings or dive behind trees and bushes as I jogged past, but I couldn't be certain. A few odd times I thought I saw them climbing amongst the trees, but when I turned to look I, of course, couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. I shook it off when I heard the sound of a boat... I sighed when I recalled the military presence restricting us to this miserable place.

There weren't any boats in the Slums. The military saw to that since it'd have made escape into Middle Class areas all to easy. I've heard stories the though. Blokes used to make rafts or swim down the river only to get shot as they passed under the bridge. The National Guard have those manned 24/7. Rumors have started floating around that they've begun testing robotic weapon systems on anybody that approaches the fences or the bridges these days, but no one has a need to near the borders. Only the fool doesn't accept their reassignment to a Poverty Zone as their plot in life.

I glanced to my left and caught glimpses of the small military boat humming down the river. The soldiers had their assault rifles in casual cross carries. Most of them had balaclava's that covered their faces and shades to protect their eyes. I lowered my gaze off them and continued peering into the thickets, searching for any source of water. I had decided to gather as much water for my group as I could, so I collected plenty of bottles on my way over here. Unfortunately, there weren't many ponds or puddles to collect from. I realized how strange it was to be alone on a looting run. It'd been a long time since I had to do one of these alone, and even though I didn't trust Frank entirely he watched my back. Which was strange... My back felt tingly as if it knew that it was vulnerable.

There was a glint of sunlight to my left. I halted and turned quickly. There was nothing again but a few of the branches were oddly swaying even though there wasn't a breeze to disturb them. I was getting thoroughly annoyed with whatever was occurring, which resulted me in thinking if I was finally going insane. I've seen people unable to cope with the abrupt change of entering a Poverty Zone. Be it betrayal, lowering standards for survival, or just the grisly sights that one encounters every day. They can get to people... Make them paranoid and untrusting of anything. Maybe all of this was getting to me? Maybe I'd finally gone so far, that I was seeing things? But... Would I be doubting myself if I had finally gone nuts? Hell... I'll never know.

"Hah! Finally!" I thought, as I encountered a long puddle in the gutter.

I did my best to fill one of the plastic bottles with the black and brown liquid that we drank daily. I almost had the first bottle filled to the 3 quarters mark when I heard voices. The first voice I had barely heard was very quiet and faint while the other was much louder. I couldn't make out any words, but there seemed to be an excited tone to the first voice. I stopped pushing the water into the bottle and slowly dried my right hand on my faded and paint stained jeans. I turned my head slightly to my left. So I could hopefully hear them better.

They must have been farther away than I thought, as I still couldn't here them well enough to distinguish words. I hoped that if I discovered if these people existed or not I'd find out if I was sane. I didn't even think twice when I stood to investigate these voices. I took a sip out of the bottle I had partially filled and cringed as the bitter and unfiltered taste clung to my tongue. I'd never get used to this taste. I took the small plastic bottle cap out of my pocket and twisted it on quickly, then placed the bottle in a side pouch. I stood and turned to my left and carefully entered the thick brush.

Nobody traveled through the river bottoms if they could help it. The vegetation had grown so thick and the lack of trails made it miserable to be in. I moved as quietly as I could through the brush but I was hardly successful. I winced every time a twig broke, or my shoe got snagged on the brush. I only heard the quiet voice now, and it sounded as if it was... Singing? Was someone seriously singing? Damn they were good. I didn't have to hear the words to know that much. She carried the tune so well and it sounded so peaceful and calming... It soothes me just to remember it.

The further I went the more I thought I was insane. I haven't heard someone sing since I arrived here, but who would seriously go into these near unnavigable marshes and sing a song? Nevermind singing in the first place. Talent like that wasn't here, and forget finding something worthwhile to sing about. The only people who were happy were the wealthy and those who toss us in here. Why haven't these people heard me crashing through the marshes? Who couldn't possibly have heard me? I was deep in my wondering and curiosity that I hadn't realized the singing had stopped and was caught completely off guard when one of the voices spoke up.

"...Hear that?" An oddly scratchy but clearly female voice finished.

I froze. Obviously, she was talking about myself. They must have been completely oblivious to my approach, and I believed I was very, very close to them. I heard the quiet voice speak again. The voices seemed to originate from the tree tops.

"Who the hell hangs out in these trees? Children I could understand, but these voices hardly sound childish! And this is so far north that I doubt any families still live up here, never mind actually getting into these river bottoms." I thought in confusion.

My grey shirt was more than enough proof of how difficult it was to navigate these parts. It had been torn in several places as I tried to have a chat with these ladies. I heard the quiet voice say something again, and there was sudden movement in the willows ahead of me. Were they seriously jumping from tree to tree now? This went from a little weird to definitely bizarre pretty fast. Regardless of what was happening, my curiosity drove me to speak and discover what the actual fuck was going on.

"Ah-!" My voice caught as I tried to talk.

"Wonderful start, man!" I mentally berated myself, as I shook my head.

I stopped my attempt at speech and tried again.

"Hello? I don't want anything! I just want to know who you are... Hello?" I called out.

Of course, I received no immediate response. I heard the quiet, meek sounding voice again. It was followed by a response from the scratchy voiced female. Either she wasn't trying to talk quietly or she did a very poor job at it.

"I don't think so... Maybe we should talk to him?" She suggested to whoever was speaking quietly.

The quiet voice spoke again, which was followed by a brief silence. I heard movement in a large willow a small distance away from me.

"See ya later!" Called that strange female voice from somewhere above me and to my left.

I spread my hands out and looked up with a completely bemused expression. The voice was coming from a completely different direction now! Yet I didn't see anything move across the trees! There again! Out of the corner my eye I saw something yellow and pink. I quickly turned only to see a trail of pink glide right behind a bunch of leaves that divided it from my line of sight. My confusion quickly turned to mystery then to frustration. I had come so close to finding out what this all was then. Poof. Gone. My mind was sent careening.

Pink? I hardly ever saw pink or any bright colors for that matter. Most color in the Slums had faded due to the near constant exposure to the sun and elements, but pink? Who? What? I put the inner side of my right hand to my forehead and looked down at the ground, as I shook my head. I remembered a picture that I had seen on the internet a long time ago. A bald guy in a red and black jumpsuit had his arm out stretched with an expression of confusion and disbelief. "What the fuck is this shit" was placed along the side of the image...I think it was from the ancient show Star Trek, but I can't remember for sure.

I walked forward, as I looked for... Anything that would explain this strange encounter. I glanced at the trees and up into their branches. How did these guys get up there? There weren't any low hanging branches, and if there were they were incredibly weak. Even then, the trees had grown so much and had gotten so tangled together it made a canopy that seemed almost impossible to penetrate. I brought my gaze down and spotted some color on the muddy ground.

At the base of this large willow were more of those sky blue feathers. A few cream yellow feathers were also mixed in. I stooped and lifted up one of the yellow feathers. It was stained in mud due to where it landed but was still soft. Very soft. But again, it was too large to be from any bird I knew of. I twisted and brought my backpack in front of me, grabbed one of the blue feathers, and placed them both in my pack. I resolved to study them later.

I put the pack back onto my shoulder and stood. I shook my head again with complete bafflement. I had to put this off for now though. I'd spent a good amount of time in here and I had spotted a couple springs that might have some decent water in them. I stumbled back down the path I had made and collected water on my way out of the marsh. The whole time I sought an explanation for that pink trail.

---

I stumbled out of the marshes, and looked down at my shirt. It was severely torn and would need to be replaced. I continued to assess my clothing as I crossed the street. My pants were wet, but other then that they were fine. The toe caps on my shoes flapped uselessly as I walked. I regretted not asking for duct tape back in Blugar's Park and blamed my recessive nature for the shortcoming. I looked up from my shoes, and climbed the steps to the wood door of a red brick building.

I was unsure of what this building used to be or if it was being used for anything else now, but the Northern sections of the Slums were infrequently traveled or sparsely populated. This reinforced my doubt that this building was being used. The door was before me now, I gripped the handle and tried to open the door. The handle moved but the door did not. I halted my attempt and examined the hinges. Sure enough, they were rusted tight. I turned the handle again and slammed my right shoulder into the door. I could feel it give, but my lack of height and weight prevented me from having a quick success. It took several shoulder slams to open the door half way, which was enough for me squeeze through.

There was a musty smell to the main room, as if several books had been left in here and had begun to rot away. There was no merchandise or furniture. Only small clumps of trash scattered across the room. There were several smaller rooms that attached into this main one, and a stairwell at the far end of the room. I walked into the first one on my left and brought my pack off my shoulders and dug through it.

I found my spare shirt and brought it out. It was a faded green Mountain Dew T-Shirt. I quickly took off my torn plain grey shirt and tossed it into a corner and grabbed my Mountain Dew Shirt. I was about to pull it over my head when I took notice of my stomach. It was smaller. I had lost weight. It was happening again. We were slowly starving. That would explain my lack of deftness in recent days. My stumbling and tripping. I was becoming malnourished again. Unless I changed that. I had to find more food. The consequence was obvious and enough to build determination to do better. I pulled the shirt over my head.

At that moment, thinking of food encouraged my stomach to growl. I mentally shrugged as I dug through my pack again. This was as good of a spot as any for a lunch break, and without Frank trying to be an impromptu leader I might actually be able to enjoy this meal. I pulled out a bag of banana chips, and my bottle of clean water. I casually walked over to the wall, sat down, and leaned against it. I tossed a dried banana slice in my mouth and tried to savor what little flavor it had. I didn't keep much food for myself, in fact that was all I had left at the time. I took a swig from my water bottle and relaxed for a decent amount of time.

I sighed, as I stood and shouldered my pack again. I couldn't afford to be lazy anymore, and I desperately needed to find food for my group. I exited the side room, walked over to the front door, and slipped out in a similar way as I had entered. I quickly stomped down the steps and walked over into an alleyway to my left. I pushed off with my left foot as I began jogging down the trash filled street. There were several garages to my right and poorly painted buildings to my left, as I approached an over flowing dumpster. I didn't stop to look through it. It'd be a waste of time trying to get through all the actual rubbish and into something that may have been tossed aside when people still had good things to waste.

For hours I ran through alleyways and peeked through garbage cans and dumpsters. I found 3 loaves of horribly stale and moldy bread, a rat that decided it had, had a wonderful life and keeled over, and a package of fine tortillas. The tortillas really made me excited. The package was still sealed, and they didn't look moldy or stale in the slightest. It then occurred to me that the conditions we were living in might, just might, promote disease, and if we ate that rat we could all get sick. Maybe even killed from whatever diseases it carried.

I guess good hygiene hasn't been on my mind much recently. I spun my pack off, quickly dug through it, found the dead rat, and tossed it as far as I could. It made an amusing thud as it smacked against a wall and slid down. Almost in a cartoonish fashion. It cracked me up to think that was actually possible in reality. I jogged down the rest of the alleyway and turned right onto the street and headed South.

The faint grin on my face instantly faded away, as I noticed a small corpse in the gutter. My gut chilled as I realized it was the body of a child. Never in my solid year of government induced poverty had I seen a child's lifeless body on the streets. What sick and twisted person would kill a mere child? My curiosity still desperately wants to know that.

I approached the corpse and knelt down next to it once I had. There was a disgusting dent in the side of the blonde boy's skull. A sizable puddle of blood had gathered behind his head that was slowly sliding towards the gutter's drain. The body wasn't cold, but neither was it warm, and the flies had yet to find it. I figured he must have been killed recently.

I examined what the boy had on him, or could have possibly had, to cause such a result. Below his neck and on the upper part of his chest I noticed a stand of curly hair. It was way too long to be from the little boy and the color perplexed me. I swear, it looked like it was hot pink, but it was only one strand of hair and hard to judge. After a quick pat down of his pockets the only item I could find was a Yo-Yo.

"Poor guy... If I can ever find out who killed you, your death will not be unavenged." I promised to the corpse, then realized how horribly cliché that sounded and chuckled.

But I took the kid's Yo-Yo... I loved Yo-Yos. It was a shame that I became an adult and having toys like that were frowned upon, but then again guys did watch a show about brightly colored horses for girls. The didn't give two shits about what people thought of them. I wondered what happened to those guys. I'd imagine a small chunk of them would still be alive in the Mediocre Class Zones, but any jobless citizen was regulated to one of these Poverty Zones.

Maybe they still met up and chatted about their favorites? That'd be a hilarious sight to walk in on. An image of some burly guys walking into a store with guns and baseball bats to find some scrawny lookin' dudes talking about their favorite feminine colored horses just flashed through my mind. I'll admit that I briefly chuckled but to each their own I guess...

I wondered if I should do something proper for his corpse. Maybe say a few words? I didn't know. I hadn't attended any funerals. I've only seen the ones in movies and who knows how accurate those were. I shrugged, as I mumbled a few meaningless words that I no longer remember.

I turned and walked sadly away. I didn't feel like running, and I had gathered some food. Besides, I had time to waste before I needed to return to Blugar's Park. Occasionally, I'd dig through the trash looking for anything useful, but I didn't put effort into it. My mind was on overdrive thinking of what I had encountered in the river bottoms, and who could of killed the little boy and why.

---

I was crossing the street and jogging into Blugar's park, as I jogged down the paths towards the clearing. I knew that I had looted too little. If I kept disappointing I'd start being a liability and not an asset. Hopefully, the discovery of the water source in the River Bottoms might delay that a little longer. At this point, I had turned down the faded trail and entered into the clearing. I was a little early but Redge, Mike, Elijah, and three other guys were already here. I quietly entered and slipped off my pack. I placed it between my legs as I sat down and leaned my back against a tree. I zipped open my backpack and looked through the contents taking out what I would have to turn in. I glanced at it with disappointment. It wasn't enough. I should have looted more on my way back instead of succumbing to my inquiring mind. I briefly lifted my eyes up and noticed Redge walking over. I sighed quietly. I was definitely going to be getting a word from him about this.

"Did you see Frank?" Redge asked with the usual lack of emotion.

He also stared at me without any hint of emotion. It was beyond me how he could manage that... Interestingly enough, now that I think about it. He started being all blank faced around the same time the group split. Must've been the guilt for getting all those people killed or something like that. Not that I blame him for it, of course...

"No." I replied simply as looked up to him.

I briefly felt like a small child sitting before a bully about to take my lunch. I shook the strange thought out of my mind.

"Damn it. Because it looks like you needed him." He responded.

"I know, but you must acknowledge that you sent me into an area that has already been cleared out." I said in tone that sounded more like whining than a reasonable response. Being a good speaker wasn't something I listed as a skill.

"There's more than one reason why I sent you up there. Expect to get used to it and hopefully know where to look for your loot." Redge replied.

I sighed and shook my head, then returned my sight to my feet and the ground. Which reminded me of the Duct Tape I needed. I looked back up to Redge.

"Anybody here have Duct Tape? As you can see, I need to patch my shoes." I requested.

I flopped the tip of my shoes a bit, which demonstrated my need.

"I got some in my bag." Redge answered with a few nods.

He turned and went to retrieve the Duct Tape. While he was fetching that. Another person entered the clearing. I glanced over to see that it was one of the few women in our group. She had blond hair and a bad sunburn on her face and arms, along with ablack shirt with jeans. Her name was Carla Willis. I found her attractive, but I didn't look for relationships these days... I was barely providing for myself. How would I be able to do that for me and a partner?

Redge had returned with the Duct Tape and tossed it down to me. I tried to grab it. It bounced out of my right hand, but I was able to catch it with my left. I proceeded to tear strips of the Duct Tape off and apply it to my shoes. Once completed I tossed the tape back to Redge who took it and returned it to his pack. After Redge had finished returning the tape to it's previous location he called us into the center of the clearing for the "debriefing".

I zoned out, hardly caring for what the rest of the group was doing, until Redge said my name and asked for my report.

"Luke, turn in your share and give your report."

I nodded and brought my share over. A meager 2 loaves of bread, the tortillas, and 9 bottles of water. The members of my group looked at it then back up to me. Sad expressions of disappointment rested on their faces. I sighed. They knew we were going to be eating thin again tonight.

"I've already taken my part of the share. Two bottles of water and a loaf of bread." I told them, as I showed these to them and my now food lacking pack so there wasn't any doubt.

"However, I have discovered a location in the Northern river banks that can provide us with good, mostly clean water." I said. I'm not going to kid myself and write that I said it in a hopefully convincing tone.

Redge looked up at this. He was studying the food; Probably contemplating how to divide it. I believe I saw a hopeful glint to his typically weary grey eyes, but knowing him I doubted it. There was some slight conversation about the water source but not much.

"Why did you even go into the river banks?" Asked a man with brown hair and red jacket over a white shirt. I guessed that his name was Chuck, but I didn't consider being asked this question and reeled for an answer. I decided on honesty as I didn't have time to formulate a good excuse.

"I heard some voices and went to investigate them. I didn't find them, but encountered a spring on my way in. I stopped and filled up the water bottles there on my way back out. It's not easy to get back in there, though. The shirt I was wearing this morning got torn up."

Chuck nodded. Satisfied with the answer, however others weren't. A woman with graying hair, dark eyes, and ragged clothing spoke up. Her name was Melinda. She was in her late thirties, but she appeared to be near the end of her middle aged years. We all knew she was a former drug addict, the wrinkles, bad teeth, and thin hair didn't lie, but she was one of the few I'd seen survive the withdrawal and she could haggle like no other. So we allowed her in.

"Voices!? You chose to investigate some hobos talkin' down in the bayou instead of lookin' fer food? Decent food is far more important then some clear water. We've all been drinkin' mud for months now. We're all used t' drinkin' muck instead of clean water."

"You die in three days with no water, and we can all admit that drinking mud isn't good for our health in the long run. Forget about the short term. That stuff's foul to drink anyways." Elijah spoke out quietly and quick to the point.

He didn't speak often, and he was the youngest in the group. He seemed to always be afraid of nobody taking him seriously because of it, but in fact we all respected him to some degree or another. He'd been through some tough times before and after the Regulation, and he'd came out better than most. A few others nodded agreement with Elijah.

"Whatever. All I'm sayin' is that Jackson here needs to relearn his priorities." Melinda continued.

"Fine. I'll try reign my curiosity in and not investigate new areas anymore. Next time I could be avoiding good food." I responded with a pointed at Melinda. I just wanted to be out of here and home... Not that home was much.

Melinda humphed and crossed her arms.

"Luke, let the reconnaissance teams know about the areas of interest in the future. Their better suited for investigating new locations for resources than you are." Redge said, ending the discussion. He then turned his gaze to Chuck.

"Chuck, what's the status on getting that sedan going?" Redge asked.

The "reconnaissance" teams had found a sedan in decent shape in a workshop near Blugar's Park. We secured it and put Chuck and Mike onto the task. They had a limited experience with vehicles and had made slow progress when repairing the car, but it was better progress than any of us could make. I'd write what was harmed on said vehicle, but my memory's never been to good. Maybe I should start taking notes... Eitherway, today there was interesting news regarding the repairs.

"Well, we finally got all the parts in place and ready t'go. We're gonna bolt those metal pieces over the broken windows and replace the exhaust line the day after. Then it'll be up to the Scavengers to find fuel and we'll be set and ready to go." Chuck answered in his crisp voice as he nodded to me when concerning the fuel.

"But that's not what's important." Mike began in a typical, unimpressive tone. "Some stranger showed up. He watched what we were doing from a distance, then left. Obviously, we didn't get a good look at him."

Redge nodded.

"Those that are on Guard Duty need to keep constant diligence and be prepared for anything. It is possible that was a scout and there might be an attack during the following days, or it could have been some random person. Either way, constant vigilance." He said grimly, which seemed to be the only emotion he was capable of sending besides none.

The others shifted nervously at this but solemnly nodded. They'd try to be at top performance. Redge nodded to them and stooped down to start dividing the food. This meant the Debriefing had concluded. I turned and walked away from the group. Putting my portion into my pack, shouldering it, and jogging out of the clearing. I was eager to be back in my box relaxing and I'll admit again I looked forward to writing down today's events, which put a little spring in my step. I hadn't looked forward to anything for a long, long time.

I returned to where I had hid my box, removed it, and carried it a block away. This time closer to Blugar's Park. I found another decent location for it and deployed it between a dumpster brimming with garbage and a trash can. I crawled inside, kicked my shoes off, and changed my socks. I didn't even notice how wet they were, but now my feet were very wrinkly, pale, and wretched smelling. Although they weren't the worst thing I've smelled.

I pulled my blanket out of my pack. I had become extraordinarily good at packing clothes and the blanket, making it take up as little room as possible. I then withdrew the loaf of bread and began slicing off chunks of mold. After the mold had been removed, I put the knife back into the pack and began eating the bread. No slices. Just taking bites out of a loaf of Wonder Bread. After consuming half of it and the same amount of a bottle of water. I put them both back into the backpack and took out the feathers. I leaned back and stared at them... Stroking them and cleaning the mud out of them.

They fascinated me... Their softness was surreal. It took me back to a time when I was young. I was taking some horse riding lessons for a few weeks. I easily enjoyed my time on that ranch, but one of the few things that I particularly enjoyed was petting the noses of the horses. They were always soft and sometimes they'd lift their upper lip and appear hilarious. Then a thought occurred me and I laughed. I laughed at my silly thought, and I hadn't laughed so hard in such a long time...

Remembering it now puts a slight grin to my face, but the thought was Pegasus. Just that word and I laughed because it was a foolish thing to believe or think. But the more I thought about it seriously the more it made sense to my sleepy mind, then I would burst into laughter again because I was taking it seriously. In the end, I decided that Pegasi couldn't talk and I picked up my Journal and wrote. Now I have written and am incredibly tired. Time to catch some Z's.

Comments

[Goober_Trooper]

New chapter is out!

PM me any grammar mistakes you find. Pretty sure I got them all, but you never know... Also let me know what you think of the story. (Pretty sure I picked a cliché/overused topic but whatever.) Tell me anything you particularly like or disliked, and if it's absolute crap lemme know, and Thanks for taking the time and checking this out. Critique and feedback will always be appreciated!

[ozpakko]

What's wrong with people? I mean, this is a pretty good story, but it seems like nopony's following it...
Dafuq?

[Goober_Trooper]

1252843

I'm not interested in attention or popularity, but with more people comes better critique. Send some people (Or pony if that floats your cloud) this way if they're interested, but frankly, I'm new to this sort of thing so I really have no clue how to gather more attention with out directly going up to people and saying "READ MY STORY NUB" Or something more polite.

Regardless, any help getting this story into the hands of more people would be very appreciated!