06 - The Bodies in Burnout

Rough draft for chapter six is nearly finished.

Dunno how it is (I've got a feeling it's not so hot towards the end), but here's a sneak peek...

The water cart looked like any of the other wagons at a first glance: wooden, tarp covered, two axles, and a pair of pullers hitched to the front. But at a second glance, it was a tad wider and was somewhat beefier, as if designed to carry a heavier-than-average load...like water.

“Doughy?” I inquired to the flaps covering the back of the cart.

“Who’s callin’?” A feminine voice called from up front.

Pumping my wings, I lifted up over the tarp and met eyes with a young unicorn mare seated up front. She was maybe a few years my senior and looked a lot like Cookie, aside from the white color her coat took around the fetlocks.

‘Gauge and Brass, Strap and Kiddo, now Cookie and Doughy. Who else in this caravan is related?’ I silently mused, “I was told you were the mare to talk to for water.”

“Sure, got a chit?” She asked, looking me up and down. While her tone wasn’t exactly the friendliest thing around, I took it as a win that she wasn’t nearly as icy as Leather Strap...or Break Action.

I nodded, offering up the wood chip to Doughy’s magic. She tucked it into a pouch next to a shortened lever action rifle at her side and hopped onto the wagon’s tarp cover. I backed off as she moved with caution to the back and gracefully slipped down into the wagon’s covered back. A moment later her head poked out, eyes watching me expectantly.

“Well?” She asked, confusing me, “Got a canteen?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, ‘duh’ I mentally berated myself as I dug through my saddlebags, producing and offering Mist’s canteen, “Here.”

Doughy accepted my offering and quickly turned to fill it within the tarp-filled confines of the wagon. I flapped my wings just outside the opening until she returned and magicked me back my water. I was about to tuck it away in my saddlebags, when a sudden worry nagged its way into my head.

“Not to sound like a nag or anything, but you guys do treat your water for contaminants and stuff, right?” I asked, glancing down at my canteen, “Like...magical radiation?”

“What? You kiddin’ me?” Doughy began with a snort, eyeing me up and down like I’d sprouted tentacles, “We ponies down here drink nothin’ but the dirtiest shit and scum we can scrounge up. Hay, if it don’t set a Pipbuck screechin’ we blast it with RADS till it does!”

It didn’t take a snicker from one of the burly pullers seated up front to tell she was being sarcastic. All the same, I crossed my forehooves as I held Doughy’s gaze, “So you do treat it for magical radiation?”

“‘Course we do, missus high-and-mighty pegasus,” Doughy sassed back, pulling herself atop the wagon and making her way forwards, “So you better savor every last drop you get here, ‘cause clean water’s a luxury in this here wasteland,” she jerked her head skywards, “‘less you wanna head back up there and sip of yer fancy old cloud water!”

I let out an annoyed huff as I swooped away from the wagon, ‘Well at least she wasn’t threatening to blow my head off!’

A dark, fast-moving shape caught my eye as I tucked away the canteen, and I felt a little better as I spotted Red Mist dart up over the caravan. He scanned over the ponies below as I made to fly over to him, but he tucked his wings and dove down towards a spot near the front of the caravan. Curious, I followed and spied him come to a landing just before Dual Gauge.

“...back early,” I caught Gauge’s voice as I swooped in. He looked surprised, even tense as he eyed Mist, “What do you have to report?”

“That town...Burnout,” Mist began, his loose jaw not working for a moment, “they’re...they’re all dead!”

Had someone dropped a pin in that single moment, it would have rung like hell’s bells. Almost everypony within earshot came to a halt, heads turning and ears shooting erect. Ponies quickly began to mutter and worry, Gauge batted at one of his ears briefly.

“What?” Gauge asked. Even I wasn’t sure I’d heard Mist right. The entire town...the town we were going to had been...massacred? I’d seen insanity down here before—the mare cackled and threw her machete—but what Mist had just said required a double-take.

Mist took a breath and said it again: “They’re all dead!” he jerked a wing back the way he’d come, “We...we got to the town, headed in, the others wanted a...a drink, wanted me to head back…” Mist trailed off, licking his lips. He looked so agitated, perturbed; his tail was snapping to and fro behind him with a mind of its own, his wings twitching, folding and unfolding at his sides, “But, my E.F.S. wasn’t getting any readings, anything! I...” he trailed off.

Here was the pony who’d killed two raiders and didn’t flinch while I ran off and fainted. It sent tingles of ice down my spine that he was losing his cool, hooves unable to keep still, skittish. Queries and cries had started to break out as ponies recovered from the initial shock. The caravan wasn’t moving and more and more of the ponies within were gathering about to find out what was going on.

“So we went in,” Mist had started again, meeting Gauge’s worried eyes with his own stoic goggles, “And they were dead...all dead…”