Brony

by Markarian

Chapter 1

“Taylor?” said the confused voice on the other end of the line, unsure and trying not to be impolite. The connection was rough, distorted with static.
“No, ma’am. Caleb. My name is Caleb.”
“Oh! Caleb, like from the Bible.”
There was a pause, a moment of hesitation before the reply. “Er, yes, ma’am. What can I help you with today?”
“Well, it’s my laptop. It’s been running real slow lately and I can barely use it.”
“Really slow…have you tried restarting your computer?”
“Um, hold on, let me do that really quick.”
Caleb Bremer pushed his swivel chair away from the desk as the call seemed to stretch on into infinity. His eyes drifted warily to the clock on his screen, ticking away seconds against him as his Handle Time increased, while simultaneously counting away the moments until his shift would finally be over. His fingers played idly over the small plastic figurine he held in his hand, tracing his fingernail over the contours and grooves in the cheap material.
“It’s still doing the thing,” the ever-more exasperated caller reported. “It’s still taking forever to start up. I think I need more gigabytes.”
“Do you have an anti-virus installed?” Caleb said as he longingly watched coworkers in the adjacent cubicles putting down their headsets and shutting down their computers.
“I think so. I think I have the MacAfee thing, but it keeps popping up a message, saying it’s expired or something,” the voice said, trailing off as if they had suddenly realized this might be related to their predicament.
Caleb suddenly straightened up in his chair, blinking as he realized he finally had his exit. “Okay, ma’am? What you need to do is perform a full virus scan, since you might have malicious software that’s causing your computer to slow down. In order to do that, you need to make sure you’re up to date on your current virus definitions, which is provided as a subscription service from MacAfee.”
“Wait, so you mean I have to pay for this? I thought it came with my computer.” There was no mistaking the quiet frustration in her voice, and Caleb knew he had to be diplomatic.
“It does, yes. But I’m showing here you purchased your system new from our online store in December of 2009. Our computers come with a one year free subscription to MacAfee Internet Security, but after that the price is $34.99 per year to keep the subscription up to date.”
“Look, it never said anything about this on your website. I really don’t think this is good business. I don’t like it,” the caller said with an edge to her voice.
Caleb’s mind was racing, frantically trying to think of a good way to position this point before the call went completely down in flames.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding—“
“No, I’m not misunderstanding anything. The only thing I understand right now is that your company wants to keep nickel-and-diming me after I spent over a thousand dollars on one of their products!”
Caleb swallowed and replied, “But honestly, we—“
But it was too late. He heard the click on the other end of the line, and knew the call was over. Sighing, Caleb logged out of his computer and put on his coat, taking a moment to look over the figurine before he slipped it into his pocket. He had carried the little plastic pony for nearly three months; the toy accompanied him wherever he went. What was once Rainbow Dash was now unrecognizable. He had handled the toy so much that the plastic had worn to an almost uniform white color, save for a patch of blue here and there.
Caleb ducked his head against the frigid air and pushed the glass doors open to reluctantly greet the biting cold outside. Sucking in a sharp breath, he fumbled with his gloves to put them on before the sharp winter wind could numb his fingers. As dressed as he was against the evening snow that swirled around him, Caleb began trudging toward the bus stop.
He cursed the name Nissan with every powdery step he took. For want of a head gasket, he was stuck in the snow, walking half a mile after work. He felt he would give anything, just to have his car working again. With a pang, he realized that wouldn’t be for some time, being that Christmas bonuses would not be forthcoming this year. When he finally reached the stop, he already felt winded and chilled. He continued to ruminate over his predicament when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that he had a new message:

PwnyUp1986: hey, who do you think would win in a fight: Opalescence or Winona?
HaylebTurnip: wat? 
PwnyUp1986: nm just a thing going on ponychan right now – Opal vs Winona

Caleb tried not to take his impatience out on his friend, simply replying:

HaylebTurnip: gg, bus is coming

And indeed it was. Slowly, with a sharp hiss from its brakes, the bus came to a halt in front of Caleb, who quickly mounted the steps and found a seat. Instead of indulging himself with further idle conversation, he chose instead to lay back in his seat and close his eyes. Finally able to enjoy a moment of independent thought, he pondered how he would spend his two days off when he got back to his tiny apartment. It was a Saturday night, hopefully late enough in the day to catch the latest episode of the show online. It was how he always kicked off his weekends, which were shorter now, owing to this arduous commute.
The bus ride took nearly an hour, and Caleb considered putting on his headphones and listening to music but changed his mind after he recalled how he nearly missed his stop almost two days in a row. Taking the bus was a new experience for him, and while he was grateful he didn’t have to deal with the rush hour traffic, his tripled commute time certainly didn’t make it worth it. He silently crunched the numbers over and over in his head—just $450, if he could just set aside $450 this month, he’d be able to get his car back on the road. He might have to eat ramen for a few weeks, he thought grimly. Does WinCo still carry the spicy lime shrimp ones? he wondered.
The bus slowly came to a halt, braking cautiously so as not to slide on the icy pavement. The driver opened the doors and Caleb could immediately feel the windy chill biting at his face as he got up to leave. He shouldered his pack and stepped out into the chilly darkness, the bus rumbling on away from him. He padded down the snowy sidewalk, lost in thought as he quickly pulled his gloves and scarf on.
It was going to be like this for the next several days, working straight through Christmas and New Year’s. He had volunteered for the overtime and holiday pay because he knew he desperately needed it. His family had invited him to stay, of course, but without a car, the 120 miles to see them seemed like the remotest of possibilities at the moment. He would spend this Christmas—much like the last—alone and on the phone.
“So if I do 47 hours this week, with seven hours of overtime, that’s a total of $400, minus $125 for heating…”
He continued to do the math in his head, to see just how much blood he could squeeze out of the turnip that was his meager paycheck. Caleb hardly noticed the approaching headlights behind him, casting harsh shadows that swept erratically over the road and sidewalk.
“…minus another seventy for my cellphone, and another thirty-five for Everfree Northwest…”
The sound of tires sliding awkwardly upon the slushy pavement caused Caleb to suddenly stop walking. He turned around slowly, expecting to see someone stuck in the ever-deepening snow.
The impact was stunning, knocking the breath and rational thought from him. He felt a searing pain in his head and he was being pushed, pushed, father and farther as he slid with the car down the wooded embankment. For a few frustrating, terrifying moments he clung to the front of the car as it careened heedlessly into the darkness. His nose was inches from the corroded hood ornament of the old car, and he could smell the sharp tang of gasoline and motor oil behind the radiator.
Caleb felt his grip slipping after a few seconds before he was forced to let go as his foot caught a rock. Sliding sideways, he was helpless as his arm slid under the front tire of the car. He felt the cold snow chain tear at his skin as the wheel passed over him, pinning him to the ground for a few moments before he was sent tumbling down into the ravine, away from the car.
He thought he might never stop falling, too weak to stop the momentum of his body as he tripped and rolled down the hill. Finally, with a dull pain in his back, he came to a stop in an icy stream, the chill soaking first through his jacket, then his sweatshirt beneath. He closed his eyes for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath, living for this moment only in the pain. Caleb was afraid to move, not because he was afraid he might further harm himself, but rather that he was afraid he couldn’t move at all.
It was only when the frigid water started biting through his t-shirt did he shakily move an arm to steady himself, to prepare himself for movement. His other arm felt numb, cumbersome, and stung in every place when he tried to move it. Panicking as he felt the needle-like agony of frostbite start to tease at his back, and shivering uncontrollably, Caleb forced himself to sit up. The pain in his head began to explode like angry fireworks in front of his eyes. He gasped and nearly considered lying back down in the cold water, but instead half crawled, half rolled himself out of the stream, panting as he cradled his forehead in his hand.
“Help…” he called out. Though instead of projecting into the darkness, his plea came as a hoarse whisper. Taking a deep breath, Caleb shakily got to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his left ankle, he knew he had sprained it—or worse. Between his head, his arm, his back, and his ankle, the pain was bringing hot tears to his numb cheeks and his mind was swimming in a frozen haze of nausea. Resisting the urge to retch, Caleb stumbled slowly into the dark woods.
“Hey…!” he called out once more, this time managing a conversational volume.
“Hello?!” Definitely approaching his outside voice.
“Can anyone hear me?” Caleb finally managed to yell, wincing as the ache throbbed in his head with his heartbeat.
There was no reply. Caleb thought about the car and wondered if the driver was faring any better than he. He squinted into the moonlit darkness, expecting to see the car, or possibly headlights in the snow, but instead he saw nothing but woods in all directions. He looked up the embankment he had come down, but couldn’t see past the thick brush, now dusted with white snow. He reached for his cellphone, but found it was gone from his pocket, only to be replaced with a few shards of broken glass. Fighting panic, Caleb stumbled further into the woods, hoping to find a house or a road. He knew that if he sat down, he might never get up again.
Caleb shivered as the wind whipped across his soaked back while he trudged through the snow. It felt as if he had walked miles and had traveled for hours when he knew in fact it had just been a couple of minutes. Every step hurt and exhausted him as he forced himself onward. After what seemed like another eternity of stumbling through the snowy underbrush, he came upon a wide, muddy path that looked like an old service road. To his dismay, it stretched onward further into the woods.
“Hello!?” he called out. Again, there was no reply, save for some unsettling bird calls that answered from deep within the forest. Against his better judgment, Caleb set off down the darkened path. The sharp pains of his ankle were now settled into a dull, tiring ache that didn’t seem to matter whether he was stepping on it or not. He couldn’t help but notice the character of the trees around him. No longer the conifers and high pine trees that he had fallen through earlier, these trees were shorter and thicker—like old willows—and draped with low-hanging Spanish moss. He stopped for a moment, daring to take a break and catch his breath once more.
To him, there was something oddly familiar about this place, though Caleb was not ready to admit it. The way the wide path wound through the dense trees, the way vines seemed to form thickets at the bases of the trunks, the way the moonlight seemed to feebly penetrate the darkened canopy—it was like nothing he had ever seen before. And yet, he felt as if he should know this place well. And in the back of his mind, that vague sliver of recognition came with a call for caution.
It was then that Caleb realized he was sweating from exertion. He knew he shouldn’t take his jacket off, but he suddenly felt stifled and uncomfortable. He had read that this was a sign of advanced hypothermia, and knew he’d be better served by keeping his clothes on, wet as they were. But as he considered this, he noticed another peculiarity: he could no longer see his breath in front of his face. The soul-numbing, icy wind had died down to a cool breeze, and the snow had since turned into a muddy slush by his feet.
Caleb frowned, more confused now than panicked, and slowly began to remove his waterlogged coat. He winced as he peeled it off of his battered arm, expecting to find blood joining the muddy water in staining his clothing, but instead finding streaks of angry red welts ringing his bicep. He moved his fingers experimentally, finding that—though cold—he still had feeling in them. He took a few deep breaths before slinging his wet coat over his back and continuing down the path.
The purple sky began to brighten slowly as Caleb made his way through the forest and he felt a mild sense of vindication, thinking he must have been walking for hours to be seeing daylight already. The air was warm now, humid and smelling slightly of peat. He had no idea where he was, but in his exhaustion, he was thankful only that the cold had abated and that he was still standing.
After several more minutes Caleb passed a set of muddy hoof prints in the path and glanced around, hoping to see an equestrian trailhead to give him some idea as to where he was but the horseshoe-shaped impressions only disappeared into the forest in the opposite direction. He frowned, and continued forward as the dawn began to peek over the hills in the distance.
He thought of what he would do when he found a phone, who he could call. Of course he would call 911, try and get to a hospital. But then he hesitated. Being uninsured, a trip to the emergency room, or even urgent care, could destroy him. If he could still move, and still speak, he could still work, though he might just take a day or two off to recover. Maybe, he thought, maybe nothing is broken. Did I just walk it off? he silently hoped.
Distracted again by his own thoughts, he didn’t notice at first that the path had led to an opening in the trees and that he had come to a quiet meadow, dotted with small, rolling hills that framed the road in dim early morning light. As he came over one such hill, he saw the sun rising in the distance ahead. Caleb knew he must be facing east, but as he tried to get his bearings he suddenly realized that most of the clouds were gone.
The blizzard seemed like a distant dream as the rapidly-rising sun laid before Caleb a feast for the eyes, blanketed in brilliant golden light. Fingers of sunshine reached to illuminate every rock, every blade of grass, and every flower in this quiet, pastoral landscape. The heat from the morning sun seemed to radiate through every fiber of his being as he momentarily forgot the pain, the panic, and the pressure to reach civilization. It didn’t matter as long as he could just experience this beautiful, divine sunrise.
As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, Caleb noticed to his relief that he was near what looked to be a small town. With its exaggerated features and closely-clustered, European-inspired houses he at first assumed he had stumbled into another tacky development of new tract homes. But as he saw the slowly turning windmills, and heard a rooster crow in the distance he knew this was no suburban oasis of McMansions. No, he knew where he was. He just didn’t know if he should believe it.
Burning with incredulous curiosity, he set off down the path with renewed energy, limping slightly as he squinted toward the village, his eyes hungering to drink in more of the familiar surroundings. The bridge, the river, the grand meeting carousel—it was all there. All of it. Caleb saw the pale yellow line of thatched roofs over the next hill, a few with smoke lazily wafting up from their chimneys. He paused, wondering if this could be possible.
He bent down, running his fingers over the dew-covered grass and feeling the soft, loamy soil under his fingers. There was no permafrost, no sign winter was there. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The air was crisp, clean, and pure. Where he would have expected to scent car exhaust or the emissions from the factory near where the bus had let him off he smelled only fresh grass and the hint of wood fires from the nearby cottages.
With his mind racing, Caleb spotted a nearby patch of boulders, jutting out from the grass, and decided to have a seat. He had to sit; if there was anything he had to sit down for and just let it soak in it was this. He looked down at his muddy tennis shoes, turning his ankle gingerly in the grass. The pain was starting to ebb, but he still felt sore. He touched his forehead and was shocked when his hand came away with a smear of slowly-drying blood. Shaking himself, he gazed out at the village near the horizon once more.
“I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” Caleb muttered softly.
In response, he heard a soft, feminine gasp from behind the rock. Caleb started, about to get up from his seat when the source of the noise tentatively rounded the corner and stepped around the rocks. Standing not six feet away was a small horse—a pony, to be specific. She—and to Caleb there was no mistaking her gender—stood shorter than most ponies or horses might. Had he been standing, the equine’s ears would have barely reached his chin. She had an earthy, grassy odor about her, one that he knew well from having visited his cousin’s farm in Vermont where they had kept horses. Her long face framed light green eyes, one of which was occluded by her wild silver mane. The pony was pure white, and as Caleb’s eyes scanned toward her flank, he saw that there was nothing there.
Caleb blinked, momentarily distracted by this absence when the inevitable happened.
“Um, are you alright…?” The voice was soft, concerned, and more than just a little fearful. But all Caleb could think about was that the voice had come from this pony’s mouth, and it had spoken to him. And Caleb had no question as to where he was.