For the fourth night in a row, John's dreams were plagued by vision of hellish images: fire and brimstone falling from on high as people run here and there, alive and dead. His role throughout these nightmarish events were the same as they were each night before. Run and gun throughout Sun City, drive through Peoria, Glendale and deep into the heart of Phoenix proper running down zombies, humans and ponies alike.
His car would usually get him to where he'd needed to go, but it would always be stopped by one of the larger equines he'd run into. Then he'd be forced to fight through waves of zombie hordes up though the nearest building only to reach the roof and meet his end. Dismembered, torn and without means of defense, John lazed under the open sky his lifeblood flowing from him upon the ground.
“Well, who'd have thought that the apocalypse could get boring?” groaned John as he watched the sunset. Cries and screams rang out amidst the chaos of the city below, but he paid them no mind as his own body was enough to draw his attention. The sight of his own heart had grown as boring as everything else made even worse as his vision blurred. “Whelp! Might as well get this show on the road.”
With that John used his left hand, the only one he had to his name, brought his gun to his head, “Pray, pray, pray. Blah blah blah. God forgive me and rub a dub thanks for the grub. Amen.” John tightened his fist and felt the trigger give way when a blur moved in the corner of his eyes. He expected to see another zombie seeking his flesh, but instead he saw an unspoiled, mint colored filly.
She turned and saw him but it was too late, “STOP!”
“Aaauuuggghhh,” growled John as he woke up. His head stung and he went to rub it, but his arm didn't reach for it. “What the hell?” yelped John when he looked at his right arm and saw nothing but an empty shoulder. His left arm shot out and grabbed his shoulder only to meet his right hand. For a few seconds John couldn't believe it, his left hand was touching his right; but he just couldn't see it. Moving his left hand up and down his right arm, John could feel it there and after a moment of reassuring himself, he could see it.
“Oh, thank god,” sighed John when he arm materialized. When he closed his eyes and looked his arm was gone again. His heart leapt into his throat but when he focused his mind on it, his arm reappeared. “The fuck?” John blinked a few times to see if his arms would remain and it did so as long as he kept it in his mind.
'This...this has gotten out of hand...I...I've got to talk to someone about this...but how? I highly doubt they have a concept of apocalypse, let alone Armageddon. How do I describe a dream about the end of the world, to a people who've never considered it?' John sat and pondered a moment until an light bulb flashed in his head, “Luna, she might know how to see into my dreams. Okay now I've got to get word to her, maybe Twilight can help with that. Yeah, this is a good plan.”
With a plan in mind John relaxed and let his heart calm down and within seconds he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall back asleep. Before he could lift his leg up and settle down, something slammed into his pinkie toe. John's face ballooned as he kept himself from screaming, when he looked down he saw that a book. Picking up the book John looked it over and saw the figure of a pony standing in a seashell and covering their groin and chest area with their hair caught in the wind. Before John could think on it too long another book brushed by his foot and crashed into the couch.
When John looked at the second book another slid into it. Following the movement of the books he could see a pile of them forming at the base of the stairs. “...this is going to be one of those kind of days, isn't it?”
Groaning, John stood up and made towards the stairs, careful to avoid the books near his feet. He hadn't even gotten to the stairs before the couch beckoned him back, promising a warm night's sleep and whispering false gifts of peaceful dreams. John gave one look over the shoulder but continued up the stairs, continuing to tread carefully, “Damn books.”
After struggling to climb the stairway, John finally entered Fluttershy's bedroom and started surveying the room. At first glance nothing seemed out of place, the room appeared as it had when he woke up in it just two nights ago. The only thing difference was Fluttershy laying prone on the ground struggling to stand up from underneath a massive pile of books. Immediately John's blood began to boil, his fatigued completely forgotten, replaced by panicked anger.
Knelling down John cradled his friend in his arm, when he was going down he caught something moving in the corner of his eyes. Sparing only a passing glance John saw nothing, but squinting his eyes he focused his vision and saw a wisp of moving black fabric and allowed John to see his target.
It was a pony, small; possibly smaller than Fluttershy and the others. They wore a large flowing cloak with a hood and face mask. Underneath the pony was clad in a skin tight black suit even down to the hooves. All in all John could see no identifying marks of the pony in front of him, but that mattered little to him. Fluttershy was hurt and the pony in front of him was the most likely suspect. John simply looked deep into the hood where John knew the eyes of the pony would be a growled, “Run.”
John's face grew a savage sneer as he saw the pony flinch before taking flight out of the window. He would have liked to take off after it but his attention drifted towards the pony in his arms, “Are you okay?”
Fluttershy's eyes whirled in her head for a moment, the image of which brought to him a happy smile and sigh. When her eyes stopped their adorable dance, she looked at John and nodded her head, a sad smile adored her face.
“Thank God,” sighed John as he hugged her tight. Sitting her down John looked Fluttershy over, mainly her head. “Everything looks fine, your bandages have come loose, but that's easily fixed,” declared John as he gave Fluttershy's mane a soft caress.
Fluttershy leaned into his palm, but before she could enjoy the pampering John pulled back his hand and said, “I'm going to go after whoever that was. I'll be back as soon as possible.” Fluttershy wanted to stop him but when she went to speak she sighed angrily. John, unaware of Fluttershy's attempt to stop him, ran down the stairs.
Once in the living room John hastily grabbed an extra shirt and slipped on his steel toe boots. While the boots went on with practiced ease, John struggled greatly with his shirt. The phantom lack of his right arm proved to be a great hindrance, “Sonnava!”
When Fluttershy hovered downstairs she caught the sight of John flailing against his own clothes. Fluttershy stifled a giggled until she saw John's head tried poking from one of the sleeve, the sight of which made her lose it. Thankfully John couldn't hear Fluttershy, the trouble he was having with his shirt was already adding to his growing frustration.
“Forget it!” roared John as he threw his shirt down on the floor and made straight for the door. When he reached the door, John slammed right into it, his right hand limp on the doorknob. John looked at his arms and his face paled, but his eyes remained fierce. With a growl, John thrust his left hand to replace his right and opened the door.
Once outside John peered across the field of snow, Luna's moon provided enough light to make him believe it was day. Truthfully, he would have liked to stop and stare, behold the night sky in all its majesty and glory. Unfortunately for him, his prey was nearing the boarder of the Everfree Forest and John wasn't in the mood to be denied.
Focusing on his target John took flight into the night. Normally the pony would have had the advantage but the snow had piled high in the dips and valleys of the field which slowed the pony down considerably. John, meanwhile, used his longer legs and longer strides to bypass that problem, gaining ground faster than he would have thought possible.
The pony made it to the border of the forest before John could reach them, 'Wait, why are they just standing there?' John's answer came in the form of an explosion of snow and slush directly in front of him. In mid-stride, full speed and caught unaware, John could only blunder into the freezing mass of ice.
John howled as the cold washed over his body, his body seized and curled into the fetal position. John's body continued to travel at the speed he was running, only to collided with the ground, rolling around into a snow bank and into the nearest tree. John breathed deep and hard as he stood up, his vision dancing as he peered into the darkened woods.
While Luna's moon rained its pale light down upon the field behind him, inside the Everfree Forest light trickled in only when the trees allowed it. It was an unnatural darkness that sent shivers down John's spin. Yet even in the darkness John caught a wisp of movement deep in the forest.
When John tried to stand, his legs gave out, and we John looked he saw a massive red mark across his left calf. Fluttershy landed close to him, and tried her best to console him, but without being able to hear her, John was deft to her pleads. John's eyes focused into the darkness and when the last wisp of movement escaped his sight, he breathed deep and roared loud for all of Equestria to hear.
“You better run!”
Fluttershy's ears clamped down against the wave of John's rage, but even when she opened her ears she could hear John's voice echoing from inside the forest. And she wasn't the only one. Every creature, great and small, magical and mundane, prey and predator stirred in the wake of the angry call. Most returned to their slumber, content to leave the voice and its source alone, but one creature gave heed to the call.
“He's coming...” gasped a whisper among the ruins of the Ancient Pony Sisters, “My champion.”