The relative quiet of their morning was not to last, as they discovered. “Damnit, that’s the third time!” Dulcimer complained.

“Third time of what?” Sparks asked, peering through a grimy, cracked window into a toppled bus.

The unicorn waved one hoof off to the left of the road. “Out there, somewhere. I keep having red bars flashing on my EFS, and then vanishing.”

Rubble tried to tell herself it was the chill morning breeze that made her step closer to her friend. “I don’t suppose the highway could be haunted, right?”

Sparks snorted in amusement. “Ghosts are just as fictional as modern-day zebra agents or giant mutant monsters.” He trailed off and stared into the distance. “Alright, now I’m seeing them too. But there’s a logical explanation. Wild animals on the edge of the PipBuck’s range or something.”

“What’s the logical explanation for roaches the size of your head, smarty pants?” Dulcimer asked, floating out her submachine gun to hover next to her.

He scowled, still staring at the yellow tufts of grass dotting the hillside. “That local did say something about animals, right? The wasteland isn’t all roving packs of crazy marauding ponies?”

Rubble snorted, climbing up onto the peeling hulk of a carriage one hoof at a time. “She did say her job was keeping things like wild dogs and rats away from the farms. I’m hoping that being the gunsmith is just a coincidence.” She squinted off into the distance, barely able to see the top of the hill from the car. Short of somehow getting up onto the bus, she wasn’t going to get a better view.

“Well, what can you see?” Dulcimer demanded.

“A whole lot of nothing.” Disgruntled, Rubble hopped down to the asphalt, hooves cracking off a few more small pieces. “Let’s keep moving. Either they’ll attack, or they won’t.”

“If they do attack, will you actually manage to hit one of them?” Sparks muttered. She didn’t dignify that with a response, just striding forward at an effortless pace that left the smaller unicorn panting for breath in just half a mile.

Before noon, they stopped at the top of a hill. The slope below them was gentle and mostly straight, as the road ran down towards the remnants of a village. Most of the buildings were crumbling or collapsed, save two directly on the other side of the intact bridge. What worried them far more was the massive barricade, built of carriages and trucks, that spanned the road between those intact buildings.

“There’s somepony down there,” Dulcimer said. “Walking along the inside of the wall.”

Sparks nodded, but gestured to the river. “Doesn’t look like we can exactly go around, though. Those banks look awfully steep, and that water is probably freezing.”

Rubble shrugged; the buildings were too far away for her to make out more than the slightly fuzzy outlines. “Let’s hope they’re friendly. Don’t think it’s fanatics, they don’t seem the wall-building type.”

Picking their way down the road, they stopped several times to stare at the wall. The pink pony inside clearly spotted them when the pacing stopped, another orange pony popping up on the wall briefly before vanishing again. Reaching the bridge, they stopped one more time to look into the depths.

Technically, the water below was only a stream, too minor to even be mentioned on their pre-Stable maps. But the water looked deep enough to cover Sparks, if not Rubble, and chunks of fallen debris turned it into churning rapids. “There’s a gap between the bridge and the buildings,” Dulcimer pointed out. “We could run for it.”

“While they’re shooting at us?” Sparks asked.

“It’s a valid second option, unless you feel like climbing,” she replied.

“Ho there! If you’re crossing our bridge, there’s a toll,” the pink stallion called out. “Fifty caps each!”

Rubble looked blankly at her companions. “Caps? What, like bottle caps?”

“Duh! Where’ve you been, living under a rock?” The pony leaned forward slightly as he shouted at them, the barrels of the rifles on his battle saddle tilting up towards the sky.

“A building, actually,” Sparks said. A moment later, Rubble’s bag glowed yellow as his magic pulled out several of the firearms they’d collected the previous night. “We don’t have any caps, but we do have this selection of weaponry.”

Turning his head, the pink gatekeeper spoke with whoever was on the other side. “Sure, we can work out a trade. Come on across.”

Even though his guns weren’t pointed in their direction, the three Stable ponies still felt nervous crossing the wide open expanse. It looked like every vehicle crashed on the bridge had been somehow dragged away to become part of the imposing gate. An entire pockmarked side of a delivery truck creaked open as they approached, and the pink stallion hopped down, gesturing them inside.

Two other ponies, a blue and blond earth mare as large as Rubble, and a three-legged tan unicorn mare, waited. “Alright, let’s see the goods,” the pink one said. Sparks floated out two of the guns, arguing back and forth, and finally adding the sharpened shovel to the exchange in return for a weak healing potion. “So, where you ponies from?”

“North,” Rubble said, avoiding the question.

The unicorn snickered. “She got you there, Double. Relax, he’s just trying to find out if you’re going to be repeat customers. The last batch of traders left two months ago, and he was hoping you were them.”

“Were they headed up towards Roam?” Sparks asked. “Because we spoke to some of the townsponies there. There’s some new group of raiders terrorizing the whole countryside north of there.”

“Ah, damnit,” Double said, smacking a hoof into the ground. “And she was so into me, too!”

The larger earth pony just shook her head, shoving the gate closed. “Don’t mind my little brother, he’s just desperate for someone other than his siblings to talk to.”

“Shut up, Bubble,” the pink one hissed. “You’re ruining my reputation.”

“You have a reputation?” Rubble asked, frowning as two of the three bridgekeepers burst out laughing. “So, who is everypony?”

The unicorn grinned. “Double, Bubble, and Toil. We maintain Hopeless Bridge here for the traders going north to the various little towns like Roam, and for the scavengers coming south to try their hoof at raiding the glowing rubble of Filly.” Toil gave a small bow after her name.

Sparks followed the introductions with his eyes. “Shouldn’t there be a fourth one of you?”

They grew silent, Bubble staring morosely at the concrete beneath her hooves. “We don’t talk about him anymore,” Double said. “So, will you ponies be coming back this way? Trying your luck in Filly?”

“Not intentionally. We heard about someplace called the Confederacy?” Rubble tried to make it sound curious and hopeful, rather than desperate.

“We’ve heard of them. Most of the traders have started going down there, if they can avoid the Ripper gang,” Toil said. “If we ever can’t run this place, we might head that way ourselves.”

“You might want to,” Dulcimer said. “Those raiders? Roam’s lost half their ponies in the last six months, and they just keep coming.”

All three bridgekeepers exchanged another worried look. “Well, we’ll keep it in mind. If you do come back, see us again. Better here than trying to cross the Narrows.” Seeing the confused look on their faces, Bubble grinned. “Some ponies tried making a bridge downstream a couple miles, back before we came in and cleared out the roaches here. Something else has taken up residence around there, dunno what, but nopony goes near it anymore.”

“We’ll remember that,” Rubble said. “Thanks for the hospitality. It’s not what we were expecting after the last ponies we ran into.”

Double shrugged. “It’s a lot easier for us to just trade with everypony who comes through. Safer, too. Usually.” He pointed down the street, where another truck-side gate waited. “You can head out that way. Good luck, and don’t get too close to the craters in Fillydelphia.” He grinned, sitting back on his hind legs and waving his forehooves in the air. “They say it’s still haunted by the glowing ghosts of the dead!”

With an unamused glare, Sparks led the way to the gate, waiting for Rubble to push it open and allow them back out into the wastes.

---===---

An hour later, they paused at the top of a hill, Dulcimer glaring off to the left of the road. “Back again?” Rubble asked.

“Yeah. I’m starting to wonder if my PipBuck is glitching or something.” She rapped the metal casing with her other hoof, wincing as it bounced off her arm.

“Oh, for Celestia, don’t do that,” Sparks complained. Bending down, he pulled out a cable and connected their PipBucks together, magically clicking the little buttons. “No, it seems to be working fine.”

“So I suppose next you’ll tell me that orchard over there is haunted?” Dulcimer complained.

Sparks opened his mouth to reply, only to stop as Rubble stepped towards the side of the road, trigger in her mouth. “Thought I saw something,” she mumbled around the grip. As Sparks opened his mouth again, a lonesome howl trailed out from the trees. “We need to find shelter. Now.”

Rubble smacked the trigger mechanism out of her face, already striding down the road. Both unicorns started cantering to keep up, horns alight as they prepared their spells. Half a mile went by, then a mile, and aside from the shifting number of red bars pacing them along the left and an occasional ethereal howl, no sign emerged of their pursuers.

The smaller unicorn was the first one to start flagging, panting harshly. Sparks’ smaller legs and body just didn’t leave him with the same reserves as Dulcimer, let alone the earth pony stamina of Rubble. His horn faded, all his concentration needed just to keep up with their pace. Before long, Dulcimer was weakening too, breaths coming in sharp gasps. Reluctantly, they all slowed down, trying to catch their breath.

As though waiting for this, the first of the animals appeared on the edge of the wild woods, slinking through a bush and staring at them with glittering, hungry eyes. The dog growled, baring teeth still stained with the blood of whatever victim it had last eaten.

The crack of a gunshot echoed back from the trees. Rubble’s bullet missed, shredding several leaves above the canine’s head before it ducked back into the concealing foliage. Feeling slightly better, they continued walking, still recovering.

But the animals refused to leave them alone. No more than ten minutes passed before the next howl went out, now echoed from the right side of the road as well. And just to make matters worse, the sun was setting, the bright patch of clouds almost completely blocked by the skeletal trees to the west.

“We need to get somewhere more defendable than this,” Rubble said, craning her neck as they reached the next hill. “It looks like there’s a building or something at the bottom of the hill!”

Dulcimer likewise stretched up, trying to see to the bottom. “Gas station,” she said between gasps. Think it’s safe?”

“A wall to our back is an improvement over now,” Rubble replied, yanking on her gun trigger. A spray of blood decorated the nearest black tree as she winged one of the dogs. For a moment, their tormentors ducked back into the trees, but the volume of their barks and howls increased. Sparks stumbled over a pothole, and she quickly stepped over to support him.

“It’s a mile away,” Dulcimer protested, though she kept up her tired, staggering trot. Rubble didn’t respond, focused on keeping Sparks up and moving.

By the time the building came in sight, the braver dogs were ducking out of the trees and nipping at their hooves, despite the ill-aimed kicks and better aimed bayonet slashes. They raced past the rust-streaked fuel tank outside the station, backing towards the long-destroyed double doors as the pack of dogs spilled out into the twilight.

The leader of the pack was a huge dog, more closely resembling a wolf. Actually, for all I know about the outdoors, it is a wolf, Rubble thought desperately. Her teeth were aching on the machete handle, and her bayonet dripped a steady tempo of canine blood. Leaning against one doorframe, Sparks had his laser pistol above his head, trembling as he fought to remain standing. Dulcimer kept her own gun in her mouth, too tired to trust her magic to hold it.

Pacing forward around the edge of the tank, the alpha’s basso growl make all their hackles rise with the implicit threat. “You want some of this? Come get it!” Sparks shouted, voice warbling. His first two shots came nowhere near the target, but with the two dozen dogs in the back, none of them completely missed. Dulcimer also bit down on her trigger, the spray of bullets narrowly missing the alpha and punching several holes in the fuel tank. Greasy, rancid liquid came pouring out of the holes, spraying several of the lead animals and momentarily breaking up their ranks until they realized it was not an attack.

At least, until Sparks fired again. The unicorn had stopped, taken a deep breath and closed his eyes, and finally used his S.A.T.S. to target the huge alpha dog. Who was covered in still fairly flammable fuel, which the blazing beam of light instantly ignited. With fuel still pouring from the giant tank, it was a matter of seconds before every fuel-coated dog was ablaze.

Then there was a massive sucking WHUMP of air as the fire raced up the small torrents of fuel and into the tank. Air rushed towards the blaze as it spread to the trees around the edge of the rest stop clearing, the deadwood igniting almost immediately. All three ponies were knocked to their knees, Sparks’ pistol clattering against the chipped concrete as he collapsed. A moment later, one piece of the metal frame came crashing down, completing the destruction of the gas station roof.

Rubble shook her head, trying to clear the ringing out of her ears. The concrete and asphalt of the gas station was a small barrier, assuming the broken pumps weren’t still full of fuel themselves. A sudden gust of wind filled her vision and her lungs with black smoke, and she coughed bitterly, trying to shield her nose with her fetlock.

“We have to get out of here!” she screamed. With some effort, she got one forehoof under Sparks, forcing him up to his knees. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, which was doubly bad because unlike her, he’d actually paid attention in Medbot’s first aid class.

“Why? The sprinklers will put out the fire soon enough,” Dulcimer shouted back.

Getting her head and neck under Sparks’ barrel, Rubble lifted him onto her back, braced between her saddlebags and her neck. Turning around, she smacked the other mare across the muzzle. Even pulling her blow, it was almost enough to knock Dulcimer over. “We’re outside, you stupid twit! There are no sprinklers!”

Shaking her head and wincing, Dulcimer stared at the wall of fire. Already jumping from tree to tree, almost out of sight around the edge of the gas station, it would cut off their only avenue of escape in minutes or less. Nodding, she staggered around the building. One dog whimpered as it tried to crawl away on legs showing exposed bone, oblivious to their presence. Rubble didn’t even spare the effort to kick it as they rushed past.

Half an hour later, the road rose over a drainage tunnel, the small creek full of a few inches of water. They crawled inside its shelter, shoving aside garbage and natural detritus to clear their way until they were encased in darkness. For hours, they dozed, half-awake in fear as they listened to the roar and crackle of the flames outside.

---===---

Somewhere before dawn, Rubble lifted her head. The dim circle of the tunnel exit had completely vanished, the light from the fire extinguished. She shivered suddenly, feeling cold water along her hooves and pooling against her barrel. “Crap. Wake up. Wake up!”

She turned on her PipBuck light, nudging the other two into groaning consciousness. Ash-choked water swirled past them all, minor pieces of debris breaking free of the thick mud coating the bottom of the tunnel. “Come on, it’s raining or something. The water’s rising, so we need to get out of here!”

Sparks rose on shaking legs, taking two steps towards the exit they had crawled out of, only to stop and back up. “Not that way. The water’s deeper. We need to get upstream.” With no room to turn around, Rubble started backing upstream, peering awkwardly under her barrel and over her shoulders. But she didn’t see the obstruction until running into it.

Dulcimer dropped to the bottom of the tunnel, shining her light further forward. “It’s blocked. There’s still a storm grate intact here.” She wormed forward a little bit, her horn scraping Rubble’s worn armor. “Can you get any higher?”

Grumbling, Rubble tried to spread her legs further, pressing against the curved sides of the pipe, at least enough for her friend to get past her. The unicorn squinted against the rushing water, half obscured with compressed trash and plant debris. “What if I kick it?”

“I don’t think it’s rusted enough to budge, so let’s make that plan B,” Dulce muttered. One of her multitools floated out of her bags, the plier jaws poking and prodding at the wire covering. “What about getting out the other way?”

“Not unless you’ve suddenly developed the ability to breathe underwater,” Sparks said. Taking a few steps back that way, he shone his light down. “And it’s getting higher. The other entrance is completely submerged by now.”

A metallic screech filled the air as one corner of the grate peeled away, letting in a rush of freezing water with it. Teeth chattering, Dulcimer’s hold on the tool remained steady as she scraped at the thin bars of the grate, wearing them down until she could break their fragile hold. But with each one freed, the water level rose a little faster, until every broken strand was submerged.

“Alright, enough, I’m kicking the damn thing free,” Rubble said. Backing up, she nudged the shivering unicorn forward, and braced herself. It was cold enough she had to lock her knees to keep them from shaking, and then she lashed out with a full force kick.

The sudden deluge of water nearly bowled her over, and it did succeed in knocking Sparks off his hooves. He rose a moment later, spluttering and coughing out water, yellow mane plastered over his eyes. Bracing again against the water lapping against her barrel, she kicked it again, feeling the sharp twang as part of it snapped away.

Peering over her shoulder, she could see the grate still holding on by a pair of strands at the very top, the force of the water shoving it into the tunnel. With the water up to her neck, almost covering both wide-eyed unicorns, she backed up. With a deep breath she ducked under the surface, coming back up almost immediately and scrubbing at her eyes with a hoof.

The second time, her eyes remained tightly shut as she crouched under the water and backed under the grate. She could feel the broken wire ends scratching at her armor, but somehow none of them caught on her saddlebag as she stood up, bending the metal. The complaints echoed weirdly in the water, seemingly coming from below her as she forced it to the ceiling.

Breaking the surface, she took one last deep breath before forcing herself backwards against the weight of the water. The force of the flow had slowed down now, with the tunnel full, and in only six agonizing steps, her rear hooves sank into mud. She lunged towards the side, clawing at the rocks and the mud to rise up, sucking in lungfuls of sweet air.

It took several seconds before she could look around, searching for her friends. On the other side of the stream was Sparks, the PipBuck light still glowing brightly along with his horn as he swept the water. He was saying something, but the constant susurrus of raindrops drowned it out. Somewhere at the bottom of the pool of water was a glowing spark, and Rubble’s water-logged brain identified it as Dulcimer’s PipBuck.

With another deep breath, she lunged back into the pool, and she stayed under for as long as her lungs would hold her before thrashing back to the surface. No, now she’s on my left. I got all turned around! She ducked under again, and despite sinking under the weight of her equipment, met with no success the second time, emerging to find the light somewhere behind her.

Flailing her way back to the closer bank, she hurriedly started going through everything in her bags. Guns, ammo, food, random electronic components – pill bottles! Dumping the tiny collection of drugs into an empty Nuka-Cola bottle for the moment, she chopped off the bottoms of the plastic containers with her machete. A hurriedly-cut strip from her jumpsuit served to hold them onto her face, tied tight enough to make her eye sockets ache, and she dived back in. But this time, she could see.

Going towards the light was simple enough, and she bit down on Dulcimer’s collar with a burst of bubbles. The mud sucked at her hooves as she fought towards the surface, dragging her friend along behind her. Spots were dancing in her eyes before she reached the surface, but the moment her head broke water, the yellow glow of Sparks’ magic enveloped her, tugging her forward and onto the soggy grass.

She lay there, breathing heavily, the temporary goggles flung aside as one unicorn fought to save the life of the other. Head downhill, water leaked out of Dulcimer’s mouth as Sparks shocked her chest with his recharging spell. On the third one, she convulsed, coughing madly and flailing against the rain and even the pull of gravity. He rolled her onto her side, and Rubble moved close enough to stroke the sodden mane as she vomited.

They lay there, huddled in the rain, until wan, cloud-blocked sunlight started to finally brighten the sky to the east. Leaning heavily on her larger friend, Dulcimer staggered to the top of the rise and back onto the road. Limping forward, they stopped long enough to collect the hastily scattered belongings and take shelter in the still-standing half of a farmhouse. Forlorn and weary, they cleared out the skeletal remains of the previous inhabitants, and curled up together on the remains of a bed to sleep away the morning. The soft patter of rain lulled them into dreamless sleep.