//------------------------------// // 12: Uptown Girl // Story: Crystal Apocalypse // by leeroy_gIBZ //------------------------------// Dear Book Found Appleloosa. Lost Lemon Zest – was kidnapped during encounter with Sombra's Legion. Escaped but was wounded. Passed out and rescued by Appleloosa townsfolk. Native Twilight Sparkle and Applejack are here. Spent the last three days recovering. Finally eating properly. Apple Family can cook. Sheriff has been showing me around. They impale raiders' corpses on dead trees. Town has population of about 60 – largest I've seen so far. All are armed. Twilight claims food supply due to her and Applejack's old science project: Cactus-Apple Tree hybrid designed to survive in outer space. Kept people fed while Sheriff Braeburn Apple kept them ordered. Will stay until the weekend. “You sure do like writing in that thing. You gonna publish it one of these days?” Braeburn asked, as he and Sugarcoat sat on camp chairs with rifles in hand, in the ruined church spire, overlooking the Warning Wood, and the grey sandy desert that encroached upon it. “I don't plan to but its good to keep a journal anyway, whether its for writing or drawing or both. It does wonders for your mental health.” The sheriff scoffed, “You think the reason you ain't howling at the moon right now is cause you write down your thoughts and feelings and doodle pictures of your dream boyfriend?” Sugarcoat glared at him, “No, the reason I'm not howling at the moon right now is because I can't see the moon. If you could keep your eyes off of me for more than two seconds, you'd realize that it's overcast.” “Hey now I was not looking at you. I was keeping an eye out for Injuns.” “I think the Buffalo Tribe can look out for themselves.” “Well...” Braeburn scratched the back of his neck, “I sorta meant more one specific Injun.” “My point remains valid; you should be keeping watch. Or did you just invite me here so you could goof off and stare through some girl’s window?” Braeburn blushed, “It ain't like that, honest. I was just tryna give you the genuine Appleloosa experience and show you what life in my town was like. Ain't my fault Little Strongheart likes to change clothes with curtains drawn open.” “Well you have certainly convinced me.” Sugarcoat said, standing up, packing her journal away. “That's great!” “It definitely is, yes.” “So you wanna keep your current cabin or-” “I'm leaving on Sunday. Thank you for the food, and the medicine and the supplies, but I still have a girlfriend to rescue.” Sugarcoat said, climbing down the ladder to the church's floor. “You know that's a real shame. We coulda used a lady like you round here.” “I know. Feel free to follow me out into the dangerous wasteland where you’ll probably die in the first hour because you've wasted your life playing cop in the Flyover Country.” Much to her relief, Braeburn did not follow her down. And much to her relief, her shift as town guard had ended with the sunrise. Most of the townsfolk had risen long before that though, going out to patrol the nearby wastes or tend to their bountiful harvest of zap apples. Sugarcoat wandered through the town for a bit, continuously being surprised at how... normal everything seemed. No matter how many times many times she walked through Appleloosa's streets, she was still shocked at how unremarkable the place was. People woke up, went to work, went home to their families and ate dinner. There wasn't any frantic fleeing from frenzied madmen, there wasn’t any nervous searching of ruined homes for food. The home here were intact, inhabited and there inhabitants tried as hard as they could to just get on with their lives, as if the outside world had never died at all. Of course, even here the apocalypse left its mark. Scorch marks and bullet holes spoke of still-recent conflicts, and the general weariness of the Apples sometimes showed through their hospitable demeanours. It reminded Sugarcoat of Saraneighvo, another city determined to leave behind its tormented past and move forward into a new world. Sugarcoat's wandering had brought her to the town bakery – nobody really used money anymore, but eating zap apples raw grew tiresome, fast. “Hey, you're Silverboat, right? The survivor from the desert?” Greeted the woman behind the counter – cheerful, with frizzy purple hair. “My name is Sugarcoat. You should try harder to remember names, maybe you'd have more customers then.” Sugar Belle muttered something under her breath. “Well, it isn’t like I sell things anymore. Haven't since Glimmer took over. If you're looking for something to eat, you'll have to wait another hour at least.” “I'm not. I'm looking for Twilight. Besides, you use too much baking soda in your muffins. They’re inedible and taste like rocks. And this is coming from who once tried to eat pumice.” “She's in the back. I’ll fetch her.” Sugar Belle said, walking into the building’s kitchen. A few minutes later, a lavender-skinned girl coated from head to toe in pale green flour emerged. “Hey, Sugarcoat. What is it?” “Good morning, Twilight. Can I borrow a dog?” “A dog?” “You mentioned that Spike had puppies. I saw one while in Canterlot and it could talk.” “So that's where Spike #19 had wondered off too! I was so worried, is he okay?” “He was alright. He's tough.” Sugarcoat said, remembering how the dog had tasted. In hindsight, that can of cream of mushroom was definitely past its sell date though. “Thank Celestia! So, why do you want to borrow one of them exactly? Wouldn’t it be impractical to take an animal out into the desert?” Twilight said, brushing the flour off her apron. “Probably. But if they're capable of speech, they should be trained to track something, right?” Twilight nodded. “Yes, I suppose they could. Being Spaniel-Jack Russel hybrids, they wouldn't be particuarly good at it, but I reckon you could try. Spike #4 did mention that he wanted to explore the outside world. “Thanks. Where would he be right now?” Twilight scratched her head, managing to get a handful of flour in her hair. “I guess he'd be patrol right now, probably with Cointreau and Triple Sec.” “I'll go and find them then. Thank you for the advice.” Sugarcoat found the Orange twins an hour or so later, while walking down the path to the desert, through the Warning Wood. The brothers were hunkered down behind an overturned sports car, trying their best not to get shot. Their dog was barking up a storm, occasionally peppering his howls with some particularly creative insults. Across the road, behind a sand dune Sugarcoat saw their attacker – a solitary man wearing what appeared to be a full set of plate mail. From her position at the edge of the forest of dead people, Sugarcoat readied her rifle, and aimed a shot at the knight. The bullet flew true, and dinged off of the man's chestplate, knocking him to the ground and knocking the pistol out of his hands. Her second shot jammed the rifle – a cartridge stuck out of the gun's body, like a brass thumb from a clenched fist. The gun's owner swore, and started running back to the town proper, hoping that the boys would take the opportunity to flee back home too, if not right then, then when the soon-to-be-rung alarm bell was sounded and the reinforcements came thundering down the hill