Big Mac’s POV
Sweetie Belle’s House
…
Big Mike bit into his lip for the fourth time as Sweetie stood in front of him, pulling a piece of cloth tight against another claw mark on his arm.
“...over...under…” Sweetie muttered as she kept trying to tie a knot with the cloth. “...over again...sideways...There!”
She took a step back to admire her handiwork while I did the same from the opposite side of the kitchen. Big Mike, to his credit, managed to keep Sweetie Belle from seeing him flinch or cringe whenever she pulled at the wounds but I saw every reaction.
After those dog-things were gone, Sweetie Belle tried thanking Big Mike and me as best she could. Since I didn’t get hurt, aside from a few splinters, Sweetie gave me a mug to drink tap water with.
Meanwhile, Big Mike took a second to study the ‘bandages’ that covered his arms. As he tried to roll his shoulder one of the tied cloths came loose while he tried as hard as he could not to look in pain.
With his best smile, he held up a thumb. “Big Mike feels better already. Thanks!”
I hid my smile behind the mug of water. All that fury I saw from him had left the same time those dogs did. The tough guy act I respected too but it was so obvious from my view.
“Sorry that we don’t have any actual bandages.” Sweetie’s eyes lingered over to a cabinet just in time to miss seeing Big Mike adjust one of the rags before it slid off his arm.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Big Mike assured. “The werewolf cuts just look bad. Besides, Big Mike thinks it clawed up his shirt more than him.”
Sweetie looked at his side and cringed. “Oh. Right...” Then she perked up and smiled. “Hold on! I know something that can help!”
She tried running out of the kitchen but had to stop to hold onto the wall. When she got her balance she chuckled awkwardly and tried to quickly walk to the stairs.
When Big Mike was sure Sweetie was out of sight, he let out a heavy huff only for him to hiss in pain. He kept his arms stiff as he stared at the rags wrapped around them.
“So y’ain’t alright,” I muttered into my mug, taking another sip of water.
“Those claws were really sharp, okay?” Big Mike bit his lip as he went to slip off whatever rags were too loose. Then he got to work adjusting and wrapping his ‘bandages’ to fit better.
“Big Mike hopes werewolves don’t make more werewolves from scratches,” he told himself.
I furrowed my brow. Where Wolves?
Big Mike saw my expression and shrugged. Which only made him tense in pain. “Well, what else would they be? Big Mike’s never seen anything li—”
He stopped to hiss and flinch as one of the more tender wounds stung from the bandage. “...Like them before,” he finished weakly. “Still. Big Mike’s just glad Litter Bull’s okay.”
“Sweetie Belle,” I reminded.
His pain shifted to defeat for a moment. “Sorry.” Even with the mopey look on his face, Big Mike kept working on the bandages.
I waited until he was finished and kept sipping on my water. Big Mike was better at wrapping up a wound than Sweetie but it wasn’t too great. If I was more confident in using these ‘fingers’, as Sweetie kept calling them, I could probably dress the wounds better.
When the last bandage was secured, Big Mike sat back on the kitchen counter, which felt like chair-height for the both of us. When I noticed Mike was taking deep breaths, I offered him my mug.
His face lit up like a Zap Apple tree as he took it in his own hands and started downing whatever was left.
As Mike leaned over towards the sink to fill the mug back up, I poked my head out of the kitchen for a moment. Sweetie Belle wasn’t back yet but Mike and I had the front door in our sights.
I suppose we got another minute before we’re hitting the road. Might as well feed my curiosity. I took a breath and looked at Big Mike.
“Pardon me pointin’ it out, but how’s come ya keep messin’ up Sweetie’s name so much? Ya got mah name down pat pretty quick.”
Big Mike watched me for a moment before he took a long swig of water. “Well. Big Mac sounds a lot like Big Mi...my name,” he corrected. “I know it sounds like I exaggerate when Bi—I say I’m bad with names, but I really am. People, places, events...Big—I. Even forget some of my families’ names.”
I blinked. “Family?”
“Yep.” he nodded. “At home, we have pictures of family everywhere. But most of the photos are all in my room. And I have name tags next to each of them. Mom’s picture too.”
He lingered on that thought for a second, mouthing something under his breath a few times. Then he smiled.
“Joe even helped teach Big Mike to scrapbook. Our Oma’s big on keeping the family together. She sends dozens of pictures every month”
My head leaned to the side. “Oma?”
“Oh. That’s German for grandma,” Mike told me. “Oma Elke pretends she can’t hear you if you call her anything else. It’s just pretend though. She’ll be on you faster than anyone if you say something about the family.”
I chuckled. “Eeyup. Sounds a lot like Granny. She’s the scrapbook’n type too.”
“Really?” Big Mike’s eyes grew as wide as his smile. “How many books?”
I let out a low whistle. “Whole closet full.”
Mike started chuckling. “Really? Wow. Big Mike needs to step up the scrapbooks.”
“Eeyup.” Both of us started chuckling for our own reasons. Boy if he and Granny ever started comparing notes. I get a feeling they wouldn’t stop until they went through every photo.
As our laughter started peppering out, Sweetie Belle peeked her head into the kitchen, staring with a half-confused smile. “What’s so funny?” She asked.
“Scrapbooks,” Big Mike told her.
“Wait, what?” Sweetie’s smile failed her. “Scrapbooks are funny?”
“Eeyup.”
“...Uh-huh.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Well, okay I guess. I don’t really get it but I’m glad everypony’s doing alright.”
Sweetie walked into the room as she reached towards her shoulder where several giant shirts were resting.
“Here you go Big Mike,” she said, holding out the shirts. “Go ahead and pick one. Dad always had shirts that were too big for him so I think they’ll work.”
“Really? That’s so nice, thank you!” Big Mike reached over and plucked them from her grip, trying his best to ignore his cuts hissing at him. “How’s come your Dad has all these big shirts?”
“I…” Sweetie blinked a few times. “I dunno. I’ve never seen any shirts like these before so I think they’re pretty unique. They’re bigger than anypony I’ve ever met though.”
She wasn’t wrong. As Big Mike kept admiring them I noticed how they would probably be too big for me to fit as a pony. I think I saw a sleeve that was a little longer than the other too. Wherever they came from, they looked custom-made.
Big Mike didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. As he saw them, they were button-up overshirts each with a cartoonish picture printed across each of them. He went back and forth, comparing each of them until finally taking a blue shirt with cartoon fish printed all over it.
He put the others down and, slowly as not to pull at the bandages or cuts, slipped the overshirt on over his original shirt.
The sleeves seemed stiff and the buttons didn’t reach but Big Mike’s smile was as bright and genuine as ever.
“This is the best jacket,” Big Mike announced simply. “Thanks! Uh. Um…”
Sweetie sighed, a sad smile trying its hardest to stand against his. “Would it be easier if you just called me Belle?”
“Bell? Bell. Bell,” Big Mike repeated, taking a second to pretend like he was ringing a bell in his hands. “Bell. Bell...Uh, yeah. Bell. Bell! Big Mike thinks he can do that.”
Sweetie’s smile got a little stronger as she turned to me. “So, Big Mac? I’m ready to go if you are. What should we do now?”
I leaned back against the wall and tried my best to map everything out.
Sweet Apple Acres is a given, I thought. Even if Applebloom and Granny ain’t there I need to see what’s going on. But to go straight there, we’d have to cut back through that amusement park again. That or go the long way. And if we come across any more dogs...
I furrowed my brow. Dangerous. Those things are probably faster if they have the space to roam. We were lucky we ran into them indoors. Still, there’s no telling when or even if they’d come back.
Big Mike stared hard towards the front door. “Are we going to be walking for a while?” Big Mike asked me.
“Why?” Sweetie asked. “Do you want to rest first?”
“Nah. Big Mike’s can go for as long as he needs,” he boasted. I frowned but let him go on. “But, if we’re going to be walking for a while then Big Mike thinks he has an idea.”
Sweetie and I shared a look for a moment. “What is it?” Sweetie asked.
“Well, Big Mike’s not sure yet,” he admitted, confusing both of us. “But we can probably figure it out if Big Mike brought you to it. So let’s go. Big Mike saw it right outside.”
Without any more explanation about ‘it’, Big Mike got up, took a second to ignore the pain in his arms, then started out the door as we were forced to follow behind.
Sweetie Belle’s POV
Outside Sweetie’s House
…
As the three of us carefully shifted through whatever was left of my front door, Big Mike walked out into the yard and pointed towards a pile of bushes and other greenery that filled up the ditch across the road.
“Big Mike saw it in there,” he told us. “He couldn’t see what it was since the werewolves attacked but he’s pretty sure he saw a wheel.”
He started to hurry over towards the bushes while Big Mac and I kept walking behind him. It wasn’t until Big Mike reached the bushes and pulled some of the leaves away to reveal a wheel as big as me, as a pony at least, that we got excited.
“That’s the wheel you saw?” I asked, staring as Big Mac rushed over to look for himself. As he did, they both worked to rip away a large chunk of green to reveal a yellow wagon submerged in the brush.
“Is that a whole taxi?!” Now I started to run over.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac revealed.
“Looks like it’s in one piece too,” Big Mike went on. “The undercarriage seems a little loose and a spoke or two fell off from one of the wheels but Big Mike thinks it’ll work.”
“That’s a relief,” Big Mike told himself. “He would have felt pretty upset if it was just a wheelbarrow or something. Just give Mike a second then he’ll drive us to wherever we’re going.”
“Eenope.” Big Mac watched where he stepped as he lowered himself into the ditch. “Ah got it.”
“Aw come on,” Big Mike whined. “Big Mike’s the one who found it. Why not?”
Big Mac said nothing and instead pointed at Mike’s bandaged arms.
Huh? That’s weird, I realized. I thought I put more stuff on his arms than that.
“...Okay,” Big Mike relented, folding his arms awkwardly. “But at least let Big Mike help get it out of there.”
Big Mac looked back and forth between Mike and the taxi a few times before finally letting out a puff of air. “Eeyup.”
Big Mike pumped his fist into the air, flinching in pain right after, before he started wading himself down into the brush as well.
“Oh, uh, Del. Brai...Bell, Bell!” Big Mike cheered.
“Uh, y-yes?” I walked over so I was a few feet beside the ditch.
“When we turn this thing to face the road, we’ll need you to make sure it’s not caught or something, okay?”
“Got it.” It took a few seconds but I managed to bend my fingers in a way where I gave Big Mike a thumb’s up.
Once they were sure that I backed up far enough, the two of them cleared away as many branches and plantlife as they could before they worked together to flip the taxi back on four wheels.
Once that was done, Big Mike took a few seconds to catch his breath and rub his arms so they would stop bothering him. When Big Mac was sure he was okay, they went to step two.
With a heave, they leaned the taxi on its back wheels and spun it. Whenever the taxi fell, it fell down sideways. The branches and vine-like plants had tied it down and each one was now snapping away.
“We straight?!” Big Mike shouted out, his voice straining.
“Um.” I walked from one point of view to the next, trying to find the best angle. “Uh, yeah! I think you’re good!”
“Alright. Slow now,” Big Mac commanded and the two began to lower the taxi back down onto all four wheels again.
Big Mac had his attention focused on the task but he made it look easy. Big Mike on the other hand was already red in the face and struggling to keep up.
When he had the chance, Mike let go of the taxi and stood up straight, gasping for air as Big Mac looked in concern.
“Fine,” Big Mike told him between gasps. “Big Mike’s...fine.”
“...” Big Mac didn’t look convinced in the slightest. So rather than argue the point, he moved behind the taxi and started to push on his own.
And the taxi pushed out instantly.
“Woah, woah,” I called, backing out of the way as Big Mac kept pushing the taxi out on his own. It wasn’t slow moving either. Whether in the ditch or on the road, the taxi rolled at a normal pace as if Big Mac was a taxi puller.
When the taxi was on stable ground, I walked around to find Big Mac stepping back and staring down at his arms in surprise.
“Big Mac, how’d you do that?” I asked with my jaw hanging in a permanent grin.
“Uhhh…” But Big Mac didn’t seem as impressed. He only seemed confused.
“Well, Big Mike could’ve done that too. Eventually,” Big Mike argued. “Still. Gotta admit, that was pretty cool.”
“Um. Eeyup?” Big Mac didn’t seem so sure but he didn’t seem to question it.
I turned my attention to the taxi next. It was one of the larger kinds, able to fit three ponies inside with a canopy that stretched around to the sides as well. There was even a small space in the back to store somepony’s luggage.
“I can’t believe this thing was hidden in that ditch. Good find Big Mike!”
Big Mac nodded along, turning to see Big Mike crawl himself out of the ditch as he adjusted one of the wrappings.
“Yeah. Glad Big Mike could help, he guesses.” He took a second to admire it himself before turning to Big Mac with a frown. “You’re not letting Big Mike pull it are you?”
“Eenope.” It sounded like a statement.
Big Mike grumbled to himself but nodded along. “Fine. But as soon as his arms feel better, Big Mike wants a turn.”
Big Mac chuckled as Big Mike climbed his way into the taxi. It leaned towards the side a little but the wagon kept itself on all four wheels.
I took the chance to get on the opposite side of the taxi and like I figured, the taxi didn’t react at all. Although even with Big Mike taking up more than half of the seat, I still had plenty of room.
Finally, Big Mac took position at the front of the wheel. The tether and collar were missing but the two posts sticking out the front were far enough apart where Big Mac could fit between them and use them as handles.
“This is pretty nice actually,” I complemented. “Okay Big Mac! Whenever you’re ready.”
He gave us a strong nod and took hold of the taxi before we started down the road at a fast pace.