It came hours after they had fallen asleep. A black, shifting thing. It wore the night like a cloak, dripping, obscuring its pulpy, fleshy body as it shambled forward, covering its tumor-laden face with a shadow-coated arm, walking, searching through its sense of smell and limited hearing.
On catching wift of a strange scent, an odd, unusual smell it hadn’t came across in all of its years wandering, it shuddered and inhaled wetly, then shambled forward through the greenery and across the hard pavement of the road. Though the road in and of itself was a foreign, strange object to it, the thing paid it little mind, pursuing the sight-scent with a single-minded hunger.
It drew another breath through its jagged and chipped teeth, tasting the air, and lurched forward, already sensing the others of its kind congregating around the foreign invaders. Shuffling, trailing a clawed hand across the side of the truck, it leaned against the window, pressing its maddening face hard against the glass, hard enough to cause one of the sacks of putrescence adorning its face to rupture and smear across the window.
In her dreams, Rarity was fine. She was back home, a sketchbook in hand and reclined on her day bed upstairs. Downstairs, she could barely hear her sister and her friends playing. She sucked on the tip of her pencil before returning it to the paper, inspiration striking like lightning. But her lines went crooked, creating a jagged scar over her creation’s beginnings, as a terrible screech echoed from downstairs. The world went dark, seeming to fade, the false reality bending but not broken yet.
“Sweetie,” she cried, annoyed. “You and your friends better not be messing up my shop!”
There was no answer but a dull thud and a sickeningly loud plop as she opened her eyes… revealing a bloated and inhuman face staring at her through the window.
She screamed.
Jack snapped awake at the sound, pinwheeling her arms so suddenly and aggressively that she hit her window and slapped Rarity’s shoulder.
“Rare!” Jack barked, turning to face the tailor. “What—”
Her words died instantly on seeing what stood behind the tailor, across the glass of the window.
“Oh Jesus!” Jack barked out, recoiling in horror at the abomination. “What the fuck?!”
“What the hell is that Jack—oh God it’s so disgusting!” Rarity cried, pushing and kicking away from the window, slamming against Jack.
“I don’t know!” Jack shot back. “Rare! I—”
A scream came from outside; Jack turned her head and watched in blank horror as a beast like the one looking at them stared down at Spike and Francis, who stood between Spike and the creature, an arm protectively guarding the boy.
“Spike!” Jack bellowed. “Oh, what the, what the,” she babbled out, close to throwing up and feeling a part of her mind leaving her for every moment she observed the abominations.
Rarity grabbed the farmer’s arm, shaking her profusely as she wailed and cried. Though she tried to speak, nothing came out but whimpering sobs or mindless squeals. They were trapped, trapped and couldn’t get away. Why couldn’t they get away!? Away from those… those… things!
“Wake up!” she finally yelled. “Wake up-wake up-wake up!”
Jack took in another panicked breath. Rarity’s pleas finally called her to action and she felt behind her for the door.
“Rarity. Rarity, listen to me,” Jack instructed, looking outside as Francis grabbed Spike and made a mad dash for the bike, narrowly dodging one of the creatures leaping after them. He almost made it to the bike before one pounced on him, tackling him to the ground. It grasped Spike’s leg and yanked it, causing the boy to yell in agony as he was pulled from Francis’ grip.
Francis crawled away, breathing heavily as he made it to his motorcycle, he felt in the small satchel at the back as Spike was being dragged away, the boy’s screams piercing Jack’s eardrums so painfully that she winced.
“Rarity!” Jack roared, aware she was crying and had, she was ashamed to realize, peed her pants in raw, uncomprehending terror at the creatures, at Spike, at everything before them. “Listen, Goddamnit!”
Her cries were met with deaf ears, her voice lost to the sheer terror the woman was going through. But then, in her wild thrashings, she saw the attack outside. Like a knife, it cut straight through her broken thoughts and shined like a torch through the darkness. Spike was in trouble.
She blinked, her head pounding, forcing her eyes down to not catch sight of the creatures again. “J-Jack, we’ve… we’ve got to help them!”
Francis had risen from searching through his supplies and held a pistol in his hand. Jack noticed that his leg was wounded. Blood dripped down his slacks from three lines into his flesh, a claw, no doubt. Spotting the fading silhouette of Spike; he gave chase after the boy, running as best he could with his wound. The beast that had pressed himself against their window gave chase after Francis, forgetting them.
“How? How the fuck do we help ‘em without anythin’?!” Jack replied, wiping at the sweat positively caking her forehead.
“You’re always talking about hunting or whatever, are you telling me you don’t even have a gun in this truck?! What kind of farmer are you?”
“The kind that keeps her guns in the Goddamn cabinet at the house!” Jack replied, slamming a fist into the driver’s wheel. It let out a sharp beep that echoed across the fields as loudly as a gunshot
Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she said under her breath.
The creatures turned their heads towards the noise and approached, scampering about on their hands and knees, crawling towards the noise. There were a lot of them, more seemingly appearing every second. Big, bloated ones with the boils, and thin, wispy ones that looked like squatting human skeletons, phasing in and out of the darkness as if they couldn't stay corporeal.
Rarity wailed. “Great, just fucking great, Jack! Any more bright ideas?”
“Fuck off!” Jack barked back. She took in a breath, close to hyperventilating. “Noise,” she said to herself. “Rare. I want ya ta be ready ta run when I say so, alright? Jus’ fuckin’ book it, get the hell outta here.”
“Whatever it is, do it fast!” she cried as one of the things slammed its fist into the window, sending cracks all throughout it.
Jack turned the keys in the ignition; the truck fired to life with a roar. From the radio, Johnny Cash once again began to speak of the beautiful shores that they’d meet on, in the sweet by and by.
She shifted to reverse and gunned it, throwing them backwards. Jack drove, her head turned, her arm thrown over the seat of the truck as she steered. She twisted the wheel, narrowly dodging one of the beasts, and then, once they made it on the road, she spun it, twisting the truck completely around with a squeal of the wheels.
Seeing that they were, briefly, away from the beasts, Jack turned to Rarity.
“Get out!” she barked. “Get out now!”
The tailor complied, throwing the door open and slamming it behind her before her feet even touched the ground. She looked behind her, quickly, then turned away from the oncoming monsters and ran for all she was worth. Part of her hated it, but a deep-seated feeling of dread pushed her away from the unnatural things. She had to get away, no matter what.
Jack watched Rarity go and opened the glove box, pulling out a set of flares and a small hunting knife.
Next time, get the damn gun in here, she chastised herself, her hands trembling as she pocketed the knife and flares. She might need them if she were to find anyone after this.
If they’re not dead, Jack thought, her heart beating so hard in her chest she was getting nauseous. She pressed down on the horn for all it was worth, hoping, praying that it’d be enough to distract the creatures from Rarity, then she revved up the truck, putting her pedal to the metal. The truck roared to life and started to speed up. Once it reached 40 mph, Jack threw open the truck’s door and leapt out, landing on the gravel to the side of the road, her left arm and shoulder taking the brunt.
The truck continued on a beeline, sputtering and spitting all down the way. Before it dropped its speed, it collided with one of the very last cars they had cleared off the road before they had set up camp. The noise of metal meeting metal made Jack’s teeth clench involuntarily and she rose, clutching at the arm she landed on. She only had a vague idea of where Rarity had ran off to and as she sprinted for everything she was worth towards where she thought the tailor’s path had taken her, she hoped she’d be right on the money.
The loud crash behind her almost halted Rarity in her tracks, but she shook off the fear and kept going, looking for a place to hide until Jack came for her. That was when she remembered: those things had taken Spike, hadn’t they?
But Francis, thankfully armed, had gone after him, she recalled. She told herself to remember to thank him proper when they got away from those…
Monstrosities.
In all her years, Rarity had never even heard of things like these. Just thinking about them hurt her head and made her heart beat even faster with fear. Her lungs began to burn; her legs too. While she was in fine enough shape, she had no lengthy experience with physical exertion, and her stamina was running out fast.
It was then she noticed the ground began to slope up, becoming somewhat rocky and hard to traverse. She slowed, but was thankful. Surely those monsters were far behind, and Jack would be able to see her more easily on a hill. Topping the rise easily, she turned and grabbed her thighs as she bent over, breathing deeply to catch her breath.
Standing back up, she looked but saw nothing in the dark. Worse, she heard nothing. No truck, no voices, and—thankfully—no cries of pain or fear. She wondered if she should call out.
Then the decision was made for her as she heard the crunch of rocks from behind. She turned, the relieved smile on her face quickly twisting into a grimace of disbelief. Three of the skinny monstrosities were coming up the hill, running on all fours and far faster than she’d seen anything run before.
Rarity turned, trying to get away, but caught her foot against the ground and fell. Pushing herself away, she looked at her inevitable death, knowing it was far too late. More were coming up behind her, slinking in the dark as if they were a part of it. A black, grotesque hand rose from one and crept towards her, twisted bone fingernails ready to claw and tear.
Jack caught sight of the tailor climbing atop the slope. She wanted to cry out in relief on seeing the woman, but kept silent, fearful that the creatures would hear her once again. Instead, she wordlessly began a trek up the side of the slope, over large rocks and jagged shrubbery. Jack froze when she heard shuffling amid the plantation.
One of the creatures shot out ten feet in front of her, its speed so jarring compared to their earlier pace that she nearly swore out loud. But it paid her no mind, instead turning away from Jack and sprinting. Realizing what, or rather, who the beast was after, dread knotted her stomach so suddenly and instantly that it was like a stone had been dropped into water.
To her, there was no other choice. Even if the thought of the things terrified her on a level she couldn’t even describe to someone, it was either save Rarity or die. She had already lost Spike, had probably lost Francis as well. If she lost her too...
Gritting her teeth, Jack charged forward, pulling out the knife at her side. In an attempt to draw their attention away from Rarity, she snapped a flare, erupting the nearby grass in a red, sparkling glow, briefly reminding Jack of fireworks she used to light as a child.
One of the creatures turned to face Jack; the flare seemed to dim for a brief instant, before roaring to life, brighter and more vibrant than any flare the farmer had ever seen. The creature covered its face, howling at the light and, before Jack’s eyes, parts of it seemed to burn and flake right off, stripping it as if the flames of hell itself were swallowing the creature. Driven on by blind instinct, Jack swung the knife at it. It sliced through flesh and bone like the beast was made of butter. Clutching at its ruined chest, it shrieked; snapping the others away from Rarity as they looked on, horrified on some instinctive level at the fire in Jack’s hand and the fire she held in her soul at that moment while she charged forward. They scattered like roaches from the light, some running on all fours, others putting their grotesque faces deep in the crooks of their elbows to hide away from the flare—one was too slow for either, and it watched Jack approach and snap her foot forward, kicking it to the ground. The flare seemed to finally give up the ghost after the last assault; it sputtered and seized, light from it only a dim ebb of what a normal flare would make.
Jack knelt down, taking quick stock of Rarity, making sure there wasn’t any apparent injuries. Hoisting her up with one hand, Jack risked a glance behind her. More creatures peered at her cautiously from the shadows, slowly fanning out in an attempt to snare her and Rarity, but not making a move quite yet. The flare, and the firemaker Jack seemed to be, made them cautious on the same level a dog feared a rolled-up newspaper.
“Come on, come on!” Jack called out in a barking order, slapping Rarity’s back to try and motivate her, unsure where they were going, but knowing it had to be better than here. “Move yer ass!”
The tailor opened her eyes but looked at nothing. She was shivering, her hands gripping her arms tightly. “I’m sorry, miss, but the Boutique is closed,” she said through chattering teeth.
“Goddamnit!” Jack spat. She clutched tightly at the woman, dragging her along as best she could and searching for something, anything they could duck behind to break the creatures’ line of sight.
There, in the distance and further up the hill, Jack spotted a barn. It wouldn’t be worth much, but it was better than nothing; maybe they could at least buy a scant few minutes, maybe Jack could have just a second to think. “Rare!” she desperately cried out, backhanding the girl’s cheek to try and snap her out of her daze.
Rarity’s brows made a fine V as she glared at Jack. “Jack Apple, how dare you!”
Jack glared daggers at Rarity. “They’re gonna do a lot worse if ya don’t help me run, ya damn cow! I ain’t carryin’ ya all the way!”
“What are you…?” she began, but then she turned and saw the things, now conquering their fear in the presence of the two women, two succulent victims awaiting their claws and so vulnerable to their jaws. Pulling out of Jack’s arms, Rarity began running for the barn. “Move your ass, Jack—hurry!”
They sprinted through the fields and up a slightly steeper incline just before the barn; the morning-dew-slick grass under Jack’s feet made her fall, landing hard on her chest. When Rarity turned to pick her up, Jack pointed towards the barn.
“Get the thing open!” Jack called out, already pushing up to a stand. She took a step forward and hissed. Her ankle was twisted, she could tell the instant she tried to put weight on it.
Rarity was already pulling up the wooden bar holding the doors closed, slamming her shoulder into the door to push it open. She turned. “Jack! Look out!”
One of the creatures had caught up to them; Jack whipped around as it leapt, knocking her forward into the barn. She gripped its wrists, like thin branches in her hands, struggling against it as it kicked wildly in her grip. Jack snapped her head forward, headbutting it once, twice, three times before flipping it over. She turned both hands to the sides sharply, breaking both wrists like they were toothpicks. The creature barked shortly at the pain, and redoubled its efforts to be free.
“Shut it behind us!” Jack managed to pant out to Rarity in her struggle, adrenaline briefly granting her the advantage against the monster. Twisting and turning she managed to bring a foot up to its chest, then moving her weight, she pressed down on its neck with her injured foot. Pain shot up all the way to her kneecap as it writhed, but they were rewarded by the gagging noises it made under her.
“Fuck you!” Jack screamed, stamping at its throat with every ounce of strength she had, until all that came from it was a single, whimpering croak that soon died off as well. But already she felt herself being pulled, Rarity gripping her arm tight and leaning back, spilling them into the barn. With a well placed kick, Rarity shut one of the doors, then scrambled up and shut the other, putting the wooden bar into place.
“Go to hell, you monsters!” Then, with practiced poise, she slid her fingers through her hair, straightening it some, and dusted at her clothes. She leaned over, throwing Jack a hand, and hauled her to her feet. “We’re safe here, right, Jack?”
The door behind them shook as something on the other side impacted against it; dust rained down from the overhang above them. Wasting no time, Jack looked across the room and spotted a ladder. “Rare,” she managed to say, pointing to it with a trembling hand. “Up top. We gotta go up top.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she replied, managing to stay calm now that the beasts weren’t in sight.
They made their way across the barn and climbed upstairs. It was a dusty hayloft; a window at the far end was cracked open, with a variety of empty beer bottles and cans scattered around, as well as the faint glimmer of used needles. A pitchfork stood nearby, erect and embedded deep into a square bale.
Below them, something impacted against the door; Jack pointed to the far end of the loft and put a finger to her lips. Rarity nodded, then placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. She pointed at the pitchfork with a questioning look. Jack nodded, taking the pitchfork and handing Rarity her knife. Then, after a beat, she gave Rarity her last flare. Leaning forward, Jack cupped her mouth directly by Rarity’s ear.
“Flares scare ‘em,” she half whispered, half mouthed, then pulled away, putting a finger to her lips once more to Rarity, who nodded yet again after an almost comically noticeable swallow.
Below, it sounded like the door finally busted down with a heavy crack. Slow, methodical footsteps across the packed earth echoed through the barn. Holding up the knife, Rarity jerked her head and slowly moved towards the window. She took each step carefully, terrified of a single misstep or creaky floorboard.
The seconds stretched out, every breath they took seemed like it might be their last, every exhale terrified Jack, afraid that somehow the noise would reveal them to the creatures.
There came a noise from the ladder. A single, inquisitive tap on its bottom rung. Jack rose to a half-crouch and moved forward, the pitchfork poised like a spear, ready to be embedded into whatever came up. Once again the seconds stretched out. One minute passed. Two. Jack’s muscles cramped as she held the pitchfork like a vise. Looking back to Rarity, she grimaced, then risked a look below.
Darkness and the lonely carpet of moonlight from the open door. Nothing more. She sank down to her stomach and flipped her head over the overhang, looking towards the door.
They were gone.
She felt like she was going to vomit with relief, but to check one more spot before she got careless, she pointed to Rarity, then at the window.
Raising the knife in a white-knuckle grip, Rarity approached the window just as slowly as before. She sidled to the wall, leaning tight against it as she inched to the sill. Carefully, she leaned her head towards it and peered outside. Here too, thankfully, was clear. She waved a hand to Jack and the farmer instantly came over, all but collapsing onto the hard haybale.
“Rare…” she breathed out, whatever strength she had left from her adrenaline high rapidly fading. “Jesus. Oh God in Heaven, Rare. What… what were those?”
Quickly, Rarity recognized that Jack was experiencing what she had only just gotten over—gotten over? Even now, if her mind wandered—She shook her head hard. The images were still fresh, but kept at bay. And Jack needed her.
Ignoring caution just a bit, she moved quickly over to Jack, saying, “I don’t know, Jack, all I know is you got us out of there. We’re safe, alright? I don’t think they can climb...”
“Climbed after ya on that hill jus’ fine. What if they… they could jus’ be waitin’, waitin’ us out. Shit, Rare.” She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, just for a moment, trying to calm herself. “I… what if we’re jus’ trapped rats?”
“You know that’s not true, so don’t start lying to yourself now.” Rarity put her hands on her hips, giving the farmer a stern glare. “We are not rats, we are intelligent, strong, and resourceful. So breathe, Jack, and calm down. Those...things are wrong, and we both know it, but we have to get over that now!” She grinned, forcing the expression as best she could. “Or do I get to slap some sense into you, now?”
Jack let out a single weak laugh. “Would it make ya feel better?” Her expression died down seconds later. “Rare. Was there anythin’ we coulda done different fer ‘em?”
She didn’t have to ask what Jack meant. “I… don’t know, honestly. I… I…” She cursed under her breath. “We’re here now, Jack. We need to focus on this. We can guilt ourselves over a bottle or two later.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “God. He was jus’ a kid an’ he got dragged inta this mess. If he had jus’ been in the truck instead of me, maybe he woulda.” Shaking her head, Jack scowled. “I can’t think ‘bout it right now. I, I can’t.”
“So think about this instead: How do we get down without breaking a leg?”
“Do we head down now?” Jack asked, unsure where she stood on the issue. “Would waitin’ up here for mornin’ be better? Do we try ta put distance between them? What if they’re all over the damn place?” Looking helplessly to Rarity, she hoped the other would have an answer.
“You said they didn’t like the flare,” Rarity offered, “so maybe waiting until morning would be better… Can you help me pull the ladder up?”
She raised a brow. “Don’t think it’s that type of ladder. If it’s anythin’ like the one back home, it’s nailed in place.”
“Why else do you think I need your help?” Rarity said dryly. She offered the knife. “Look at the state of this place, surely we can push them loose with a little effort?”
“Oh. Uh…” She rose, moving to the ladder. “Alright. Guess that’s true.”
Taking the knife, she climbed downstairs and used it as a makeshift pry, popping the nails out of place then returning back up top, where she pulled out the top row of nails too. Rarity, for her part, gently pushed the doors closed again, although she found the locking bar completely broken. When they were both back up top and the nails pulled, they hefted the ladder up—cringing at the noise it made—and laid it on the loft floor.
“Well, that should suffice,” Rarity said, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Now we wait.”
They drifted off into a fitful sleep, both too exhausted to even dwell on the horror of earlier. It was still dark outside when there came a creak from the door below. Jack had always been a light sleeper, so that, plus what they had dealt with earlier in the night, snapped her awake. Though groggy, she shook Rarity’s arm, then covered her mouth.
It was a wise move, as on instinct Rarity tried to scream. Her dreams had paled to the real thing, but nightmares had kept her nerves on edge. After a moment, she noticed Jack and stopped, her chest heaving with the effort of the attempt. Slowly, she moved the farmer’s hand. “What is it, Jack?” she whispered.
“Heard somethin’. Door. Might be another one.” Reaching over, Jack took her pitchfork and clenched it tightly in her hands. “I’ll drop down. Stay up here.”
Rarity hissed, “Don’t! Just stay!”
“Stay?” Jack repeated, “What if they get up here? What if they try ta hurt ya?”
“Basic logic,” she explained. “It’ll be easier to push them down, then fight surrounded. It’s why we moved the ladder!”
“Goddammit,” Jack swore under her breath. Rarity had a point, but she didn’t have to like that she had a point.
“Hush! Do you hear anything?”
From below there came a noise. Hushed, low. But after a moment Jack recognized it. Something like whispering.
“The… Those things, did they talk?” Rarity asked.
“I, uh, don’t think so.” Jack crept towards the edge and swallowed. She peaked down below and froze. “Rare,” she whispered out. “Holy shit.”
Worried that some new nightmare had come, the tailor wanted to stay right where she was, but instead she began moving closer, saying, breathlessly, “What is it?”
Jack let out an unbelieving laugh. “A fucking miracle,” she replied then, louder, exclaimed, “Boys!”
“What?!” cried Rarity as she scrambled over to the edge.
There, looking a little rough for wear but very much alive, were Spike and Francis, closing the door and looking up at the girls.
“Francis! Spike! You’re alright! Oh, thank God…” Rarity said, tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s a miracle. Holy shit,” Jack repeated. “Get the ladder. Let’s get ‘em up here.”
As the pair slid the ladder over and held it steady, Rarity asked, “Are you two hurt? How did you get away? Can you forgive us for running away?”
“W-we thought you were dead,” Spike blurted out. “Those things t-tried to…”
“It’s okay,” Francis said. “You’re okay, son.”
“We lucked out,” Jack said, “did somethin’ stupid an’ it just happened ta pay off.”
“We were very much the same. Thankfully bullets managed to stop them, eventually,” Francis said as he watched Spike climb up the ladder. “Time at the shooting range paid off today.”
Spike quickly moved to Rarity’s side and hugged the woman tightly, barely holding back from crying.
“Yer alright, little guy,” Jack said, clapping his shoulder briefly before helping Francis up the last few rungs of the ladder. Once he was up, Jack lifted the object and put it beside them.
Rarity, her arms still tight around Spike, whispered more thanks and apologies. She turned to Francis, “And thank you, for bringing him back to us. Once again, I’m in your debt.”
“Why, anything for a lady as majestic as yourself,” he answered with a bow, letting out a hiss as he adjusted himself. Jack took a step forward; he waved her off.
“Just a bit sore. I fell pretty hard after I got Spike away from those things,” he explained, rubbing at his side. “I’m too old for this.”
“I think we’re all too old for...whatever this is,” Rarity said quietly. “But at least we’re safe, for now.”
“For now,” Francis agreed with a grim nod.
“Things seem ta hate light. Or at least flares. In the mornin’, maybe we’ll be safe,” Jack offered.
“Safer,” Francis replied. “I don’t want to call anywhere safe at the moment.”
“So do we just sleep here then?” Spike asked. Francis did his best to offer a brighter expression to the boy.
“Guess so. Kind of like camping.” Francis forced a chuckle out. “Though a bit too much hay for my liking, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Twila says she gets hay fever sometimes,” Spike said. “I hope I don’t.”
“I’m sure you won’t, my boy. Now I’d suggest you get some rest. Same goes to you, Jacqueline. There’s a brief matter I wish to discuss with Rarity, privately.”
Raising a brow, Jack shrugged. “Well, alright. Give me a poke if ya need me; ain’t like I’ll be noddin’ off any time soon.” So saying, she moved back under the window of the hayloft, giving a small, motherly squeeze to Spike as she sat next to him.
Francis watched them briefly before sighing, looking very much like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Following his lead, Rarity moved to the other side of the loft, away from the pair. She raised a curious brow. “What could possibly need privacy at a time like this?”
He gave a weary shake of his head and rolled up his sleeve. At his wrist was a nick, like a tooth had scraped over the flesh and drawn blood.
“One of them bit me. Not deep, luckily, but, well, I’ve certain you’ve seen movies where this situation happens, yes?” He let out a click of his tongue. “Far from my favorite genre, personally. They’re all so overwrought.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Oh of all the things… Zombies, from you? Really?” She leaned forward, pulling his hand up to examine the wound closer.
“And I never expected to speak of creatures like we saw a few hours ago either, madam,” he answered promptly. “I know you’re the sort to plan your moves carefully: the quality of your tailoring can attest to that aspect of your personality. So, I wanted to inform someone that I knew wouldn’t overreact or jump to conclusions. Just as a precaution.”
“Fair enough,” she said levelly, letting go of his head. “It’s thankfully minor, and doesn’t seem to be infected or anything. Plus, I refuse to believe we’ve entered some cliche horror film.” She gave his shoulder a light slap. “So no changing into a horrendous monstrosity. There are few enough true gentlemen in the world for that to happen.”
“Well, I’ve said and done a few things today that make me question if I’m a gentleman, personally,” he said, somehow finding it in him to offer a weak laugh. Another silence came and he reached into his pocket, pulling out his pistol. “I have two bullets left,” Francis said, then looked over to Spike. “I’m simply saying this, not advocating it by any means, but if those creatures come and it looks hopeless… perhaps it might be better for the boy and yourself to take them. I’m not afraid of the way they’d kill me, but...” Shaking his head, he wryly smiled. “I shouldn’t think like that, like it’s inevitable that they’ll return. Forgive the ramblings of an old man, would you?”
“Ramblings, indeed!” Rarity huffed. “Don’t you dare mention such...such… utter nonsense again! We’re going to get through this, together. All of us. And the first step to seeing that through is by not losing hope.” She turned away. “It’s not going to get any easier, I just know it won’t. But if we start off by shooting ourselves in the foot then…” She shook her head, the events leading to this moment catching up, making her words difficult to accept. “We’re still here, still alive. That means something, doesn’t it? Something we’re not just supposed to throw away at the first sign of trouble.”
“I hope you’re right. I just… if it were men hunting us down it’d be one thing, but…” He gestured out the window at the empty fields. “Tell me that’s not something out of a children’s story. It’s only natural I’m a bit unnerved, my dear.” Waving his hand to brush the thought away, he swallowed. “Well, I suppose we need a watch just in case. I’ll take first, preferably.”
“I would say you should rest, but seeing as I’m used to staying up late, I think it would be prudent for me to take the late shift.” She stepped forward and embraced him warmly for a moment before turning for the other side of the loft. “Make sure to wake me in a few hours, alright?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Nothing to it.”
Rarity nodded and took her time finding a comfortable spot. After a moment’s thought, she decided to make a place beside Spike, laying with her back to his.
Though she thought she’d never sleep, it did come, the warmth and life of the friend beside her bringing her some comfort. With it came dreamless relief, her exhaustion pushing the nightmares out of her head. For tonight, at the least.