Chapter 5
As the undead plague spread and society collapsed, those with the will to do whatever it took survive became the new leaders of a rapidly crumbling world.
These people gathered others to their side and together, they stood against the undead hordes, eking out a living on the scraps of society.
With the world in such a state, however, even basic resources began to dwindle until only those with the skills to produce their own or the bravery to head into the infested towns and cities had any hope of sustaining themselves or their followers.
Or, they could take it from others.
On PEI, there were two such groups that fell into the latter category, the “Berets” and the “Switchblades”.
The Berets were a group of ex-cons and Canadian military remnants. They maintained a loose control over everything north of Alberton from their base of operations in the old O’Leary Prison. Believing in the old mantra that only the strongest and fiercest survive, these hardened thugs, murderers, and soldiers turned thugs and murderers had become even more feared by the islands remaining inhabitants than the zombies.
The Switchblades, on the other hand, had originally begun as a group of civilians surviving on PEI’s South side that became fed up with the constant harassment and eventually outright attacks against them by the Beret gang. However, as they broadcasted their plight across the airwaves in hope that some military or law enforcement might yet remain that could come to their aid, a rather mysterious force known simply as “The Coalition” answered their cries and transformed the Switchblades into a heavily armed paramilitary force.
As often as weather conditions and fuel shortages would allow, this Coalition would send their transport planes to air-drop weapons and supplies to the shattered remains of society all across the northern hemisphere.
The logic of what followed was infantile. The Beret Gang wanted what the Switchblades had, and what they had, was a new airdrop, smack dab in the middle of the overgrown wheat field at Fernwood Farm.
The Switchblades had sent a squad to secure the airdrop, regardless of the full moon, and they had almost succeeded.
As they crossed the road between the hills and the field, there was a flash of light and a sharp report from the neighboring Wiltshire farm, followed by a tremendous explosion that scattered the Switchblade squad like ninepins.
The Beret gang had brought a tank.
-
As the full moon bathed Prince Edward Island in its soft, sinister light, four portals exploded into existence across the small northern isle.
One opened near the lighthouse, and another opened above the military base.
The last two, however, opened right next to each other above the tall, golden, wheat fields of what had once been known locally as Fernwood Farm, proud growers of the best wheat on the island.
In more recent times, however, the farm was better known for being a zombie infested shadow of agricultural success, and a prime location to loot for post-apocalyptic treasures like seeds and fertilizer.
Currently, it was the site of a raging battle.
-
Jenna Henriquez cleaved the head of a red-eyed crawler zombie in two with her machete before dashing for cover behind a hay bale to reload her Bulldog submachinegun.
To her left, a fellow Switchblade named Darold took aim at the Beret Gang’s tank on the road above the farm with an RPG.
With a fiery whoosh, the rocket raced into the night, right as a burst of automatic fire came scything out of the wheat and cut him down.
Jenna didn't know him all that well, and the past few months hadn’t spared her innocence to all things bloody and violent.
However, the rush of grief, anger, and fear at seeing someone she knew gunned down was as strong as ever.
She didn't like the feeling, but it was how she knew she was still human.
Suddenly, just as Jenna poked her head around the hay bale in an attempt to reach her fallen comrade, there was a tremendous explosion of red and white light accompanied by the sound of a howling gale.
Temporarily blinded, Jenna thought that her RPG wielding comrade must have hit the tank’s ammunition rack.
Then, she looked up.
A great whirlpool of light and energy hung in the air directly above the airdrop that they had been sent to secure.
All around her, the battle was coming to a disoriented halt as the combatants of both sides lost their night vision. For those wearing NVG’s, the effect was even worse, becoming completely blinded as the view through their goggles became a solid green or white glare.
As Jenna squinted at the blazing anomaly, two flailing shapes fell from its center and landed on top of the airdrop crate.
-
If you asked anypony that knew her, they would tell you that Minuette was a generally cheerful pony. Even when under stress, Minuette would always try to find a way to liven up the situation, a trait she said, that tended to rub off on any pony that spent any significant amount of time around Pinkie Pie.
At the moment, however, Minuette was finding it very difficult to maintain her optimism.
Things had been going so well.
What had begun as a fun trip to the library to look for Moondancer and to learn about camping had gone rather pear-shaped.
Either something had gone horribly wrong with Moondancer’s Haycart’s Spell, or there was more to that odd little book then any of them could have imagined.
Now she was falling, quite fast she realized, and she screaming at the top of her lungs.
All around her, the terrible light that had swallowed her and her friends swirled and shrieked.
Fear for her friends, for herself, and of the unknown seemed to drown out every happy thought she tried to muster.
“Help”! She cried out, in what sounded to her like a pitifully small voice, hoping against hope that somepony, anypony, would answer.
“Minuette”!? “A voice yelled back. “Is that you”!?
Her heart leaped, there, spiraling towards her through the hellish light was Lemon Hearts.
Lemon Hearts, the calm, steadfast, if at one time clumsy mare had become one of the most careful and attentive ponies Minuette knew.
Angling her body so she could match her fall to Minuette’s, Lemon Hearts, pulled alongside with the precision of a military paratrooper.
“Are you ok”? She shouted over the rushing air.
“Minuette grinned through tears of joy in response and tried flipping herself to match Lemon Hart’s posture.
Instead, she began to tumble even faster before Lemonhearts grabbed Minuette with her magic and righted her.
“Spread your legs out” Lemon Hearts commanded. “It will create more air resistance and steady your fall”.
Minuette copied her friend as they plunged through the seemingly endless swirling light storm.
Suddenly, the light began to dim. As the two mares watched, the walls of energy were replaced by a brilliant night sky graced by a glorious full moon.
Then they looked down and saw the ground rushing up to meet them.
Lemon Hearts looked at Minuette and saw much the same fear she felt.
For her, however, it wasn’t just a fear of death, but a fear of things left unsaid.
“Minuette”! Lemonhearts shouted. “I need to tell you something”!
“My real name isn’t Lemon Hearts, its Golden Hearts, Special Agent Golden Hearts”!
“You're a what”!? Minuette looked at the mare she thought she knew in confusion, their imminent date with the ground almost forgotten.
“There’s so much I wish I could have shared with you”! Golden Hearts said with tears in her eyes. “But Celestia had me swear an oath of sec-oof”!
The two mares crashed into to rope webbing of the airdrop crate and lay stunned as the portal dissipated above their heads.
-
Across the field, an ex-con turned Beret Gang Lieutenant; Jason Malarkey rubbed the flashing lights from his eyes and tried to take stock of the situation.
Both sides had stopped firing thanks to whatever had caused that blinding light.
To his left and rear, the tank that the gang had painstakingly maintained since the apocalypse began was out of action.
The Switchblade RPG had, of all things, hit the open commander’s hatch and sent a hail of deadly shrapnel right into the fighting compartment.
As the acting commander of this little operation gone fubar, Malarkey knew that he needed to salvage the situation quick.
“Hey, hey Jackson”! Malarkey barked at the man to his left who was still rubbing the stars from his eyes.
“Quit rubbing your eyes like a baby and go check on Atchison and his boys in the tank”!
“What, so I can get cut down like Haddix”!? Travis Jackson, once a fellow inmate of Malarkey’s, shot back as he glanced at one of their number lying in a bloody sprawl at the edge of the wheat field. “You saw that blast, Atchison bought the farm”!
“Just go”! Malarkey hissed. “Do it quickly before those Switchblades in the field start seeing straight enough to shoot”!
As Jackson scrambled away almost on all fours, Malarkey turned to the man on his right while reloading his Empire submachine gun he had taken from a fallen Switchblade.
“Cover me, Zimmer”. He said as he cocked the weapon. “I’m going for the airdrop”.
Gunther Zimmer, once an elite sniper in the Canadian army and covered from head to toe in a Ghillie suit, simply grunted in response and adjusted the 8x scope on his Timberwolf.
As he army crawled down the embankment and into the wheat, Malarkey cursed their misfortune and started thinking how he was going to explain this mess to the Boss.
“There had better be some damn good equipment in this drop”.
-
Jenna knew the basics of first aid, but Darold, her comrade, and the one who had disabled the Beret’s tank with his RPG needed professional help.
He had taken two hits, one in the shoulder and another in the chest.
The one in the shoulder had passed clean through, but the other had lodged inside him somewhere above his heart.
All Jenna could do was bandage Darold’s shoulder and apply pressure to the blood-soaked dressing on his chest. The contents of the Med Kit were invaluable, however, that bullet needed to come out.
“J-Jenna” Darold whispered hoarsely. “You’ve done all you can for me, secure the airdrop and see if anyone else made it”.
“Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain, our people need those weapons”!
“Don’t talk like that”. “Jenna muttered as she picked up her Bulldog and scanned the surrounding wheat.
“I’m gonna get you back to Doc. Martine and she’ll patch you up to fight another day”.
Jenna peaked around the hay bale again at the airdrop crate.
To the left in the direction of the road, a trail of the tall wheat stalks moved against the light breeze that swirled across the field.
“Someone’s making a move for the drop” Jenna whispered. “We should go while they’re distract… ed”.
Darold wasn’t moving.
“C’mon, stay with me”! Jenna cried hints of panic in her voice as she shook Darold’s good shoulder.
Darold’s cracked an eyelid and gave Jenna a weak grin. “I’m still here”.
“That’s it”. Jenna replied with a sigh of relief. “This is gonna hurt, but were leaving.” “Screw the airdrop”!
-
As Malarkey closed in on the airdrop, he spotted movement atop the crate.
His mind raced. It was just his luck that the full moon was now shrouded in clouds because, in the murky gloom, he couldn’t tell friend from foe.
At this point, things couldn’t get much worse. The last thing he needed was a friendly fire incident on top of losing Atchison and his tank crew.
“Screw it” Malarkey muttered. “I’ll just give them a heads up”.
He pulled a flashbang from his belt and tossed the grenade up onto the crate.
“Flash out”! He shouted, before going prone and shielding his eyes.
-
Recovering from their fall, Minuette and Golden Hearts where just getting to their hooves when there was a shout from the wheat field and a small, cylindrical object sailed out of the gloom and landed on the crate between them.
“Wait, so the Lemon Hearts I knew and loved was just a cover”!? Minuette said as she rose shakily to her hooves, a look of confusion and a bit of betrayal on her face.
“Yes and no”. Golden Hearts replied unhappily as she pushed herself up. “Oh Tartarus, you’re my friend, you deserve to know-“.
Golden Hearts turned pale as her raspberry eyes settled on the grenade.
“What is tha- “? Minuette began but was stopped mid-sentence as a bolt of Golden Heart’s magic blasted her off the crate.
The flashbang detonated, once again bathing Fenwood Farm in a blinding light.
Like all of Celestia’s secret agents, Golden Hearts was trained in the use and evasion of numerous weapons, including magical stun grenades which, fortunately for her, looked uncannily similar to human flashbangs.
Unfortunately, in saving her friend, Golden Hearts caught the full blast of the grenade.
Ears ringing and blinded, she stumbled backward of the airdrop crate and fell into the field.
Minuette, launched in the opposite direction had closed her eyes by reflex as Golden Heart’s magical bolt knocked the wind from her lungs, thus sparing her from the blinding light, but not the noise.
She crashed into the wheat; dazed, half deaf, and now separated from the only friend she had in this strange, dark place.
"Though who's to say her friendship wasn't just a cover too"? Minuette thought sadly. "She may never have truly been my friend to begin with".
Staggering to her hooves, Minuette began to stumble away from the crate, confused and disheartened.
Suddenly she tripped on something lying among the wheat and face planted in the dirt.
Pushing herself up again, Minuette looked back at the offending object and felt her heart stop.
A pale, bloody face with no mouth stared listlessly back.
Despite the rational part of her brain screaming for a hasty retreat, a morbid fascination that allowed Minuette to enjoy even the most grisly of horror shows that would have her friends cowering under the blankets took over.
Closer inspection of the face revealed that its mouth was hidden behind a black bandana, and the head was attached to a body which she had tripped over.
Minuette had never seen a head like it before.
It was flat, almost cuboid in shape and there was no muzzle to speak of, just a small nose jutting out from smooth, mostly hairless skin.
Whatever it was though, it was certainly dead. There was a rather neat hole in the creature’s neck and the ground beneath it gleamed faintly in the starlight with congealing blood
As she stared, however, the corpse began to twitch and its dead eyes began to glow a hellish red.
It was at this point that the rational part of Minuette’s mind drew the line.
She had seen enough horror movies to know where this was going.
Whatever the creature had been, it wasn’t one any longer. It was a shell, a zombie.
Minuette began to back away as the corpse re-animated.
Suddenly, there were three quick, short reports from behind and the zombie’s head exploded.
-
Jenna cursed as she put down her former gang member turned zombie.
The hardest part about a zombie apocalypse was that while the living still saw their loved ones, the dead saw their next meal.
Jenna had seen so many go out that way when things took a turn for the worst. Families and friends would refuse to abandon their injured kin, only to get mauled and turned as their loved ones re-animated.
As Jenna turned away, the moon came out from behind the clouds and bathed the wheat field in its soft, sinister light.
It also revealed the blue unicorn standing just a few feet in front of her.
Jenna froze mid-turn and nearly dropped her gun in shock.
Standing still as a post, she watched as the Unicorn slowly turned around to look at her.
Jenna blinked, stared, then closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, the Unicorn was still there.
Growing up, Jenna had always wanted a pet Unicorn. When she got old enough to understand that they didn’t exist, she had begged her parents for a pony.
She’d never gotten her wish, though deep down Jenna still loved equines and fantasised that out there, somewhere, unicorns did indeed exist.
She never expected to be proven right.
Least of all now, after the world had basically gone to hell in a handbasket.
Jenna slowly slung her Bulldog submachinegun over her shoulder, fearful that any sudden movement would cause the Unicorn to vanish in a puff of magic and slowly reached out to touch it in a final test of disbelief.
Minuette stared at the creature before her as it slowly reached out.
Questions buzzed through Minuette’s head like a swarm of bees as various self-preservation alarm bells clanged in her subconscious.
While the creature before Minuette had a face similar to the now truly dead corpse lying behind her, this creature’s eyes were alert and wide with disbelief and curiosity.
Once again her curiosity got the better of her as Minuette stayed stock still, wondering what the creature would do as she watched its appendage draw closer and closer to her muzzle.
Jenna gently booped the Unicorn, which from the long, two-tone mane and eyelashes, she guessed was a female.
She felt the warmth of the Unicorn’s breath on her hand before drawing back sharply, the last of her doubts blown out of the water.
“She’s real”!?
The boop seemed to break the spell though as the Unicorn snorted and blinked.
Then it spoke.
“Your hoof smells like blood,” Minuette said, are you hurt?
Jenna nearly fainted.
“It's not a hoof, it's a hand". Jenna replied reflexively before looking up sharply and exclaiming. "Holy crap, you speak English”!?
Jenna gaped at Minuette who in turn cocked her head in confusion.
“No, you’re speaking Equestrian”. Minuette replied. “What is English”?
“It’s the language that I-and-you-just-…” Jenna gestured helplessly for a few seconds before falling into a dumbfounded silence.
The two starred at each other for several awkward seconds before Jenna tried again.
“Uh, well, er…my name is Jenna”. the creature said. “and you are…”?
“Minuette” the unicorn replied. “Um, what exactly are you”?
“I’m a human”. Jenna replied with no less confusion than before.
“Oh, and no I’m not hurt”. Jenna continued as she realized her hands were covered in dry blood.
“The blood’s not mine, it’s…Darold’s”!
Jenna panicked as she remembered her fallen comrade and realized that every second she stood talking was another second of Darold’s life bleeding away.
“Can you help me, Minuette was it”!?
“Um, sure”. Minuette replied, the worry in Jenna’s voice making her worried as well.
Jenna turned and quickly led Minuette behind the hay bale where Darold lay.
“I don’t know where you came from, how you can speak English, or if I’m just having one hell of a vivid dream.” Jenna began. “However, unicorns have been said to possess a kind of magic, and if you have any at all, is there a way you could use it to help my friend”?
Minuette looked down at Darold. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were closed. The dressing across the wound in his chest was soaked with blood.
Minuette knew some basic healing spells for cuts and scrapes, but she was no doctor.
This human, Darold, as Jenna had called him, needed help that was beyond her.
“I’m sorry”. Minuette said as she looked up with an apologetic expression, and she truly was. Most ponies and it seemed these humans too thought that all unicorns could use their magic to do everything.
In reality, a unicorn’s magical proficiency depended on both their aptitudes for different types of magic and their skill sets.
Minuette shook her head. “He needs to get to a hospital; I can gallop to Canterlot Central and bring…”
The series of events that led up her sitting in a wheat field with a pair of humans hit Minuette like a ton of bricks.
That portal, the zombie, humans…
She wasn’t in Equestria anymore.
“Um, hello”? Jenna waved a hand in front of Minuette “You ok there”?
Minuette was not ok; in fact, she was on the verge of a panic attack.
She was in a strange new world, with zombies, separated from her friends, and unlike the horror movies she was so fond of, this was one hundred percent real.
She felt her heartbeat quicken and her breathing became fast and frantic.
Jenna watched with growing concern as Minuette’s ears flattened, her pupils dilated, and a terrified whinny began to emanate from somewhere in her throat.
Suddenly, the darkness that was descending on Minuette from all sides lifted as a strange and wonderful sensation cut through her fear.
While she had never been able to own a horse or pony, young Jenna had still become something of an equine expert by reading every book on the subject she could get her hands on.
Drawing on what she had read all those years ago about equine care, Jenna had reached over and began rubbing Minuette’s neck beneath her mane.
The unicorn mare melted, all of Minuette’s fears vanishing like smoke at the magical feeling.
When Jenna stopped, it almost made Minuette cry.
“What…was…that”!? She gasped.
“Just something I learned a long time ago”. Jenna said with a small smile before turning serious again.
“If your magic can’t help Darold, then could you at least help me get him back to our base”?
“We have a doctor there”.
Minuette was still recovering from the massage but at the mention of Darold’s condition, her fears began to return.
“No”! Minuette told herself, “I will not give in”! "What would Pinkie Pie do"?
"Smile silly"! Came a high pitched voice in Minuette's head. "Oh, and never give up"!
"Right"! Minuette said to herself. "Put on a brave face and just keep trotting"!
“I will help save this human’s life, I will find my friends, and I will get back to Equestria”!
Minuette turned to Darold and fired up her horn for a simple levitation spell.
“Point the way”! Minuette replied with a newly determined glint in her eyes as she carefully levitated the injured man to head height.
Jenna found herself staring dumbfounded again, this time at Darold who was now floating four feet off the ground surrounded by the sparkly golden sheen of Minuette’s magic.
If someone had told her a year ago that one day she would meet a magical, talking unicorn during the zombie apocalypse, Jenna would have told them to get their head checked. Five months ago, even as the zombie outbreak began to spread out of control, she still would have just laughed.
“Good thing I’m not a betting woman”. Jenna thought with a small chuckle as she led Minuette with Darold in tow out of the wheat field and southeast across the road in the direction of the Switchblade base on Outons Isle.
"Point for you, Universe. looks like you finally put the last scraps of logic out to pasture".
-
For the first time that night, things were starting to look up for Jason Malarkey and his motley crew, or what was left of them at any rate.
Out of a squad of six counting the tank crew, four had survived.
Atchison, a veteran of the Canadian Armor Corps had indeed bought the farm when the RPG hit the open commander’s hatch just above his head. However, his driver, a young man named Otis Hale had survived.
Without Atchison however, the Leopard 2 tank; brought back from Afghanistan at the start of the undead outbreak, was next to useless for the foreseeable future as no one else knew how to operate it.
However, what the surviving Beret’s found in the air-drop crate almost made up for the loss.
A Hell’s Fury Minigun.
There was even a spare drum for it, along with several other weapons including a Scalar Carbine and a Devil’s Bane Shotgun.
To say the boys were elated would be an understatement.
As Malarkey hefted the Hell’s Fury and drank in the awesome feeling of raw stopping power he now held, Travis Jackson alternated between admiring his new scalar and stashing away the extra Ranger Magazines from the drop in a Spec Ops Rucksack while whistling a cheery, nameless tune.
Gunther Zimmer leaned against the crate, munching on some russet berries he found near the road and loading a brand new Determinator Shotgun Revolver.
Otis was busy blasting red-eyed zombies over at the nearby farmhouse with the Devil’s Bane, each shot accompanied by shouts of “Come and get some, and eat lead”!
“The Boss will be happy with some more ammo for his Augewehr”. Jackson said with a grin as he squeezed the last Banana Magazine into the rucksack and hoisted it up onto his shoulder.
Malarkey returned the grin. “The way he treats that gun of his, the boss will be more than happy”.
Zimmer gave an amused snort and Malarkey rounded on him.
“Like you’re any better”! Malarkey laughed. “You practically sleep with your rifle”!
Gunther Zimmer was a man of few words and fewer smiles. He was quick and decisive however and had the reflexes and eyesight of a hawk. On the occasions that he did speak, however, it was often to make a point.
“Sleeping with a gun is what saved my life back when things started going to hell, and the better a man knows his weapon, the more effective he can be with it”.
As Zimmer finished speaking, he looked over at the farmhouse and watched as Otis fired off his last shotgun shell at a Spitter.
In the months following the outbreak, some of the zombies began to mutate. The first mutations to appear were Flamers, burning zombies that went up in a fiery explosion when killed.
Then there were Flankers, zombies that turned nearly invisible when aggroed and as their name implied, would try to outflank their prey.
Finally, there were Spitters, the latest in the undead mutation process which could spit glowing blue acid at a target up to twenty meters away. This ranged attack meant that unless you could sneak up behind a Spitter, the best way to deal with them was a shot to the head from twenty plus meters.
What Otis didn’t know, was that the maximum effective range on his new Devils Bane Shotgun was only fifteen meters.
Baffled as to why the shot hadn’t pulverized the target, Otis pulled the trigger again and was rewarded with a hollow click as the Spitter turned and vomited a stream of acid at him.
Otis turned and panicked, running into the wheat field as the red-eyed Spitter began to pursue.
Malarkey and Jackson started laughing as they watched Otis run, yelling for him to turn around and stab the Spitter before it could spit again.
As Otis reached the crate, however, he came skidding to a halt, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Lying in the shadow of the back side of the crate was a bright yellow Unicorn.
Seeing Otis apparently freeze up, Zimmer drew his Determinator, gauged the range, and blew the Spitter’s head off at 25 meters.
“See”? Zimmer said to the still laughing Malarkey and Jackson as they walked over to Otis. “Know your weapon, and it will serve you well”.
When Otis didn’t respond to their jeers, both Malarkey and Jackson followed his line of sight and their expressions of amusement froze.
For several moments, the four men stood in a semi-circle around the side of the airdrop crate and stared at the unconscious Golden Hearts, watching her side rise and fall with each breath.
Jackson was the first to break the silence.
“What the hell…”!? He began. “You guys are seeing a bright yellow unicorn too, right”?
“Oh, I see it”. Malarkey said. “But the real question is who the hell spiked our canteens”?
As the others stared, Otis kneeled down and moved closer, reaching out to touch it.
At 20 years old, Otis was the youngest member of the Beret Gang. He grew up on a farm with horses on the mainland and had been taking courses at a local community college when the apocalypse began.
His experience operating and repairing heavy farm equipment like tractors and combines made him valuable to the late Atchison who had needed a driver for the Leopard tank that at least understood a thing or two about oversize vehicles.
Now, however, he recalled his days in the stables as he ran a hand through the Unicorn’s bright coat.
“It’s a she, a mare, or at least I think so”. Otis said as he stroked her cerulean mane. “Though not like any mare I’ve ever seen”.
“I’ll say”. Malarkey muttered as he rubbed his eyes, hoping that the next time he opened them the colorful Unicorn would have vanished. “It hurts just to look at her”.
Zimmer produced a flashlight and shone it on the mare, lighting her up so Otis could get a better look.
“Sheesh, now it’s even worse”! Malarkey groaned as he shielded his eyes. “Can you imagine looking at her on a sunny day”?
“You could see her from the Moon”. Jackson said with an amused whistle. “Look at the size of her eyes”! Jackson continued as Otis opened one of the mare’s eyelids, revealing a beautiful raspberry colored iris.
“That’s definitely not normal”.
“Do you think it’s a mutation”? “Otis asked as he examined what appeared to be a tattoo of two blue hearts and one green on the mare’s flank.
“Why the hell not”? Malarkey said with a yawn as he looked up at the slowly brightening sky. “With the way the world is going, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest”.
Suddenly, Jackson, who had turned away to dump out his canteen raised his weapon.
“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt this episode of petting zoo; tripping balls edition, but we have company”!
All the commotion from earlier had drawn the remaining zombies in the area to the wheat field and with their senses heightened by the full moon, they were quickly closing in.
“Time to go”! Malarkey said as he shouldered his own Alicepack. “We may have lost our gunner, but the tank can still move. At least we can ride back to the beach in style”.
Jackson was already halfway to the tank when he turned around with an exasperated sigh.
“Oh for the love of…Leave it, Otis, there’s something called the circle of life”!
Otis ignored Jackson as he struggled to drag the Unicorn mare through the wheat field.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he was trying to save her, but something told him that she was more to this colorful equine than they knew.
Suddenly, Zimmer was beside Otis and between the two of them, they managed to lift the still unconscious Golden Hearts and carried her to the tank.
Jackson just shook his head as he helped them secure the mare to the top of the supply crates behind the turret with some rope.
Otis climbed through the driver’s hatch as Malarkey settled in the commander’s cupola with the Hell’s Fury at the ready.
Then Jackson and Zimmer jumped on and they were off, crushing the zombies to their rear as Otis reversed, turned the tank around, and sent them rumbling north down the road towards Alberton.
As the full moon sank and the horizon turned from blue to pink, Malarkey leaned back in the open cupola and let the cool morning air wash away all the stress of the past several hours.
His mission had been a success. Sacrifices had been made, but he was returning with more than half of his men and had the spoils of battle to back him up.
Glancing around the hatch, Malarkey looked back at the unconscious yellow Unicorn strapped to the supply crates and shook his head.
He’d let the Boss deal with this one.