I simply stood and stared. Nothing moved between us, and even the wind and sun seemed to hold their bated breath. My mind was screaming and pounding within the confines of my skull. It ordered me to move, to flee, to get away from the necrotic monster. When that failed, my mind dropped to its knees and began to beg and plead for me to do something, anything. My body simply refused to listen. I was trapped, frozen in place, drowning in the horror before me.
Those eyes locked with mine and stared back: dark, empty pits stretching into a sickening void. They pried past my flesh and blood to tear at my very being. Even as my essence howled in agony, and I knew that thing couldn’t be alive, I still couldn’t shake those eyes.
“Celestia’s hot milky tits,” said Kitty Hawk. Those eyes shifted onto her, and the spell broke. I too found myself facing the fluff ball in my arms.
Words utterly failed me. My jaw flapped, but nothing came out. There was a pregnant pause, and then Kitty Hawk asked, “Are you a zombie?”
The eyes bore into her. “No, young fool. I am Scrap, given new life by the Magi. I am here to kill you and take my revenge.”
“No way,” she countered. “Scrap was way too pathetic to be as cool as you, Mr. Zombie.”
The dead pony, now Scrap, growled through clenched teeth, “I am not a zombie. I am Scrap!”
“But Scrap died. Ember killed him. I saw the body,” Kitty Hawk insisted.
“SUCH IS THE PREREQUISITE FOR BEING BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD!”
“But you’re in a dead body. And you’re moving. So that makes you a zombie, or an undead, or a vengeful spirit bound by magic in a fleshy cocoon until such time as your task can be fulfilled and you can be released.”
Scrap pointed a decaying hoof at Kitty Hawk. “I’m going to make Ember watch as I rip the wings from your body. Then I’m going to strangle him with his own intestines.”
My old enemy was here. Once more he would try to kill Kitty Hawk and I. Suddenly, I found myself able to move and think.
“Yeah, no,” I said and turned to go. With a heave, I tossed Kitty Hawk skywards. “Fly and go find the others. Tell Honey Apple I need my weapons and armor.” Now free of my burden, my feet took flight.
As I fled, I was struck by thoughts of my father. If he could see me now: weaponless and running from a fight. “You stupid whelp,” he would be shouting.
Scrap violently yanked me out of my thoughts. “I’ll kill you!” shouted the dead pony. Then a big thump and scream of rage.
I scampered away into the labyrinth of tall grasses: staying low, moving on all fours. First I went left, then right, and even backtracking. It wasn’t long before I was hopelessly lost. “Ember, O Ember, come here so I can kill you!” Scrap’s voice rang out overhead.
It was getting closer: tantalizing, almost playfully. “Ember, Ember,” he continued. “Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone? Oh where, oh where could he be?” The wind rose, and with it came the smell of putrid gore.
I bolted blindly through the maze with my enemy closing in, and yet I dared not raise my head. Every which way was grass. It stretched on in an endless expanse, blocking out everything but the sun. I chose another direction at random and plunged on.
Grasses whipped at my nose and face. Paws drove me onwards. The sound of my ragged breath roared in my ears. My thundering heart shook my whole body. Scrap’s voice called in the distance, “I know where you are. You can’t hide from me. I can see you!”
I threw myself into a depression: listening, looking, sniffing the air. That foul carcass was far away, but something else lay ahead. Tentatively, I followed my nose through grass. The green sea parted, and I came upon a small clearing. It was occupied by a circle of wagons.
There were no ponies about, dead or otherwise. There were dark stains on the ground and some of the wagons had been torn in half, but not a soul could be seen. I approached the wagons, licking my lips nervously.
Torn canvas flapped in the breeze. A solitary wheel spun lazily in the air, squeaking on an ungreased shaft. Amongst the circled wagons, timber groaned as something shifted. A frozen breath passed over the back of my neck. “Did you miss me, Ember?” said a voice from behind.
I jumped, leaving my skin on the ground, and whirling around to face my adversary. Immediately I wished I hadn’t. The smell nearly caused me to faint, but the horror held me in place.
A unicorn stood there, half its skull sheared off, part of its jaw, and one working eye. Most of its white coat was stained a reddish brown. Black rotten innards squished and oozed as it moved. Inky darkness filled the eye.
It opened its putrid mouth, and in Scrap’s voice, it said, “I am in the air.” It gestured up. I diverted my eyes for a half a breath. A rotting pegasus hovered overhead, fleshy pieces falling off with every flap. Scrap continued, “I’m on the ground,” and an undead lime-green earth pony with three legs emerged from the grass. “And all around.” The yellow pony from earlier approached from my left. The quartet echoed, “There is no place you can hide. Now it's time to die.”
The four undead ponies approached me, each more horrible than the last. I retreated. My back slammed into rough wood. There came the breaking of timber and a show of splinters. A revolting pony head looked down at me. It grinned, revealing a mouth full of wiggling bugs.
I dropped to the ground, trying not to just scream in sheer terror. My whole body shook uncontrollably. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind.
The undead moved in. I tried to scramble as far away as possible but there was a wheel at my back. There was space underneath the wagon, and I threw myself into it. The undead ponies only laughed in unison.
A pair of sickly cold hooves shot out and wrapped themselves around my neck. I grabbed at them. Chunks of flesh and fur came off in my paws. I tried to wipe the dead flesh off on the ground, but my stomach would have none of it and launched a full on rebellion to go up and out.
There was laughter next to my ear. Unmentionable juices soaked into my fur. The hooves only tightened. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.
Swallowing my own sickness, I once again grabbed the hooves. There was wet, exposed bone beneath my paws. I yanked violently. The bones snapped. Both hooves went limp.
More limbs snaked in from all sides. I clawed them away, and yet they persisted. I muffled my shrieking mouth as the hooves ran over my body. They grabbed and yanked, trying to pull me out from under the wagon. In desperation, I intertwined my arms in a wagon wheel and hung on for dear life. A head snuck in, its rotten tongue flicking in and out like a snake. Scrap grinned maliciously at me and said, “I've got you now. Come to daddy.” The dead ponies laughed, and it echoed inside my skull.
Then the world exploded into blind light and searing heat.
I instinctively covered my face and turned away from the inferno. But my ears heard that terrible laugher turn to screams of agency. There were several small explosions, and something hot and sticky landed on me. It turned out to be steaming entrails; I hastily scrapped them aside.
The world was free of fire, but the heat still radiated off the ground in great waves. Hesitantly, I pulled myself out from underneath the charred remains of the wagon. The dead lay scattered about, most in small pieces that smoked and hissed.
A helping hoof was extended, and I gladly accepted. Fluorescent Nightingale offered me a friendly smile. Surprising myself, I swept her up in a hug. “Thank you,” I said, relieved to be done with the nightmare. “I am truly glad to have ponies with me.”
There were about a dozen other ponies, all suited up and armed. Each gave me a nod and a smile in return. There was even a welcoming figure hovering overhead.
Kitty Hawk waved down at me. “See, I led them right to you.” She glowed with pride. Then a grimace passed over her face, and she held her hoof over her nose. “Burnt zombies smells bad.”
I hadn’t noticed until now, but the smell took the brief lull in my terror to wallop me in the face. Even fire couldn’t ease the stench of rotten flesh. Now it just smelled sickly sweet and burnt.
A half-charred pony raised the remains of its head. “Damn you ponies to Tartarus. I will get you in my...” started Scrap, before a dozen spears pierced its body. His parting words were lost in a wet gurgle, but the body continued to thrash.
“Idiots!” cried Fluorescent Nightingale, firing up her horn. She snatched a sword from one of the ponies and chopped the zombie’s head off. She immediately followed up with a bottle of Liquid Fire. “What did I tell you?” She looked pointedly at the other ponies. “Cut and burn! It’s the only way these things stay down!”
“Again, thank you,” I said, eyeing the other corpses for signs of movement. As we turned to go, a black mist arose from the ruined corpses. “That can't be good,” I commented.
We arrived back at the wagon circle, now a fortress of shields and spear points. Magic shields hummed over everything. In the center of the circle was Honey Apple poring over a map, and a nervous looking Lily Blossom hooked up to a wagon. Several colts and fillies poked their heads out from underneath the canvas. Lily Blossom waved when she saw me, but otherwise pranced in place.
Honey Apple acknowledged my presences with a grunt. She pointed at my collection of armor and weapons. “Suit up. Then I need your help to get us out of this mess.”
Fluorescent Nightingale and Kitty Hawk moved to help me. “She really is glad to have you back,” said Nightingale as she strapped down my chest and back plates. I nodded in understanding as I slipped on my helmet and slid my swords into place. I tried not to think of the sticky sweetness in my fur, now pressed closer by the armor.
All three of us joined Honey Apple.
I gave Kitty Hawk the look. She glowered back. I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. The little fuzzy ball copied my expression. I didn’t flinch. With a “harumph,” she flew to Lily Blossom and settled on top of the wagon. Both ears turned my way.
Honey Apple was pointing on the map, an area I guessed to be our current location. “The pegasi report about 40 or 50 moving corpses, which is about right if a caravan was lost with all hooves. But I’m receiving not only reports of Crescent Moon’s markers, but three cupcakes as well as crossed roses. That makes three caravans and approximately 100 ponies unaccounted. I don’t like it.”
“Three caravans!” Fluorescent Nightingale nearly shouted. “Shh,” hissed Honey Apple. A few ponies looked our way. Nightingale looked ready to bolt. “Three caravans,” she continued in a hushed whisper. “One caravan, I get. We’re explorers, it’s an occupational hazard. The loss of two caravans is not unheard of. But three!”
“Why can’t we just rush through them like the rats?” I asked.
“I don’t know how they will react,” confessed Honey Apple. “Rats attack in waves. You kill off enough in a single wave and the rest retreat. Or they get enough to eat. Either way they retreat. With undead, you have maybe a very powerful spell caster or a lot of smaller ones. I don't know who or what is controlling them.”
“Scrap,” I said.
“Scrap?” asked Honey Apple.
I explained. “He was a dog I killed many days ago. Apparently, he is in control of the undead.” A noticeable shiver ran down my back. “At least the ones i’ve met.”
Honey Apple gave me a questioning look. “You mean they’re a hive mind?” Seeing my questioning look, she continued, “They think as one. One controller?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
Honey Apple turned back to the map. Suddenly she stomped the ground in frustration. “Damn Luna’s lustrous lower lips.” She looked up at the sun. “We have about six hours of daylight, and then...”
“They pick us off one by one while we try and rest,” I finished. The prospect of night fighting held little appeal. In the morning we would all be exhausted, yet the enemy would persist. Would the caravan even survive?
Honey Apple nodded as if reading my thoughts. “Our best hope is to get across the Friendship River. Ambient Equestrian magic will help to degrade this ‘Scrap’ and the corpses he controls. But until then…” She started taking measurements with her hoof. Her conclusion revealed itself as a grim look on her face. “A half hour’s heavy running without wagons, wounded, armor, or fighting.”
A blue pegasus interrupted us by swooping in and saluting smartly. “All the corpses have stopped moving, and black mist is rising from their bodies,” he reported. Nightingale, Honey Apple, and I all looked at one another.
“Where is it collecting?” asked Honey Apple.
The pegasus didn’t say anything, just pointed with his hoof. We all followed it to just beyond the circle of wagons. Quickly condensing over the meadow was a black cloud; twisting and writhing in the blackness, it took shape. The ponies in front were starting to nervously shift back and forth.
First two legs planted themselves firmly on the ground. Then two arms followed: they flexed their big, fat pony-sized fingers. And finally a head: with big pointed ears, a long wolvonus snout, and rows upon rows of teeth. “Hello, Ember,” it said as twin wagon-wheel-sized eyes focused on the caravan. “It’s time to die!”
“Run!” shouted Honey Apple “Get away from it!”
“Fire!” roared a contradictory order from above. Bow strings twanged. Arrows riddled Scrap’s form. They stopped and sank into the gelatinous body. Scrap roared with laughter, then reached out a monstrous paw and swatted a pegasi from the sky. The body hit the ground with a wet, sickening splat.
Now he turned towards us. Rearing back one arm, he brought it crashing down on the caravan. The magic shields buckled under the blow. Every casting unicorn was thrown to their knees. Anything touching Scrap--wagons, armor, weapons, and ponies--were drawn into his body. The ponies quickly rescued their comrades before any could be sucked inside.
“Get out!” shouted Honey Apple as she pushed ponies left and right. Many tripped over themselves to get away. The camp parted, but not quickly enough.
Kitty Hawk cried in alarm. I looked to see Lily Blossom, eyes wide with fear, backpedaling away from Scrap and taking the cart of fillies and colts with her. I left after her. Grabbing the pony by the neck, I dragged her and the cart to one side.
I could see Honey running from group to group, shouting orders.
Scrap examined his arm. His acquired goodies floated inside. Then he grinned maliciously down at us. “I guess I’m not all powerful, but let’s try round two!” he moved to crush the Caravan in a single blow.
“Hey! Ugly Mutt! Bite my tail!”
Scrap looked down to see Honey Apple at his feet. His lips peeled back in a predatory grin. “Nighty night, little pony,” and he raised a foot to squash her.
Honey Apple hurled a burlap bag at him and called out, “Nightingale. Do it now!” A bolt of lightning zipped through the air. The bag exploded. Scrap was caught in the fiery shower.
The gigantic dog stumbled back and fell, hitting the ground with a mighty boom that shook the ground. He desperately tried to wipe away the flames as they licked up his body and started to consume the wood inside his form. Black ichor popped and sizzled. “You blasted pony!” roared Scrap.
Honey Apple turned and bellowed orders. “Gather the wounded into carts. Ready more Liquid Fire! Run to the river!” Ponies, once shaken before Scrap, now scrambled to obey.
“Ember, she won’t move!” called Kitty Hawk. She was futilely trying to pull Lily Blossom in the directions of the others. The mare stood riveted to spot, fixed by the burning monster and the flames reaching high into the sky.
A stallon joined us and together we still couldn’t get her to budge. Out of desperation, I reached out and smacked Lily Blossom on the rump. “Giddy-up,” I shouted. Lily Blossom whinnied and then bolted after the others. Her wagon bounced along behind her.
I nodded my thanks to the stallion before snatching Kitty Hawk out of the air. “Go with her and stay away from danger,” I said.
‘Not very likely,” she countered.
“Fine. Then stay close.” I dropped to all fours and raced after the fleeing ponies. Kitty Hawk flew overhead.
Behind us, the towering inferno found its feet and turned towards us. Scrap roared, and it shook the sky. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all!” Scrap launched himself after us. He was quickly closing the distance. Already I could feel the blistering heat.
“Go left!” shouted Kitty Hawk. I turned hard, dug my claws into the ground, and shot off in the new direction. Scrap tried the same thing: his massive paws slid across the burning grass and then the rest of him followed suit. He hit the ground with a booming thud. Scrap came back up with a frustrated snarl.
Now he came at us with his burning arms opened wide. He was almost on top of me. “I’ve got you now Ember!” he cried triumphantly. His arms circled in. Then the world flashed white, and I was hurled off my feet by a hurricane of heat and noise.
I was lying in smoldering grass. Dozens of fires revolved in my vision, finally condensing down to three little embers that circled my vision. My ears rang. My mind was listless, almost dull, with little thoughts here and there as if to say it was still working. My world slipped over to one side. Twin Kitty Hawks appeared in my vision. “Are you hurt?” they asked.
Slowly, I regained my feet. Everything slid into focus. My body ached. My fur was singed and covered in numerous small burns. Thankfully, now there was only one Kitty Hawk lie to. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile.
Two sets of hooves galloped over to us and Honey Apple appeared in my vision. “You look like a dragon chewed you up but didn’t like the taste. Can you walk on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. My body screamed at each movement. The ringing in my ears was a dull ache. If I kept putting one paw in front of the other, I could just make to the river.
Honey Apple looked like she was about to say something but just nodded. She turned and marked a path through the labyrinth of small grass fires.“I’m glad that monster exploded when he did.”
“You knew he was going to burn and explode?” I asked. Walking and talking helped to distract from the pain.
“Not truly, no. But that wagon he absorbed just happen to hold several bags of Liquid Fire. I’m glad no one was seriously injured, except for the one.” The pegasus from earlier hadn’t looked alive last I’d seen her.
“Is he dead?” asked Kitty Hawk, poking at a sizzling black lump of ooze.
“Let’s not stick around to find out,” said Honey Apple. “Come on, the river’s not far.”
As we marched away, little fires started to consolidate into bigger ones. Smoke filled the skies. The air was becoming thick, and I started to have a coughing fit. The smoke stung my eyes. “We need to get out of here,” I said.
“Follow me,” called Honey Apple. We purchased through the haze. Someone appeared to be listening, because at that moment, the wind picked up. It blew the fire and smoke away from us.
I could now see the dust trail left by fleeing Equestrians. More than half had hung back, all seasoned warriors by the look of them. There was even a cart hauling wounded.
As the smoke turned, it left behind little black clouds in the sky. Those clouds began to squirm and wiggle. Then they shot into the ground at seemingly random points.
“Oh no,” I said.
There came a rumbling under my feet. The ground heaved, and a pony’s head came out. It snarled and snapped at me.
Kitty Hawk pointed to the thing at my feet and cried, “Zombies!”