//------------------------------// // 10: Warehouse Blues. // Story: Trudge Runners // by ROBCakeran53 //------------------------------// The return trip, while still as muddy, wasn’t as bad now that they knew where the muck was hiding. The worst part of the return trip, however, was the silence. They’d tried to talk, joke even once, but their hearts weren’t in it. The hanging body in that empty house was still bothering the mare, even though she hated cowards like that. It still took them the better part of the afternoon to return to the more solid dirt road, and the tan colored garage was like a beacon in a pending storm as they pulled up closer. Both pony and human were covered in dried mud and sweat. Once parked at the garage, Bill shut down the little 469 and they both just sat there in the silence. Occasionally small crackles and pops could be heard as the exhaust cooled under the vehicle. With a sigh, Bill looked behind them at what they’d packed, slapped his muddy legs, and said a single word. “Fuck.” He then proceeded to exit the vehicle, with Applejack simply following out his still open door. She closed it with a flick of her tail. Slowly, two weary and tired bodies walked to the smaller entry door, which Bill held open for the mare. Entering the garage, Bill promptly ignored the space and made for the hallway, Applejack close on his heels. They both stopped at Applejack’s open room door. “Hey, you take a shower first. I’m starved, and you probably don’t wanna be around when I try to thaw some of that deer in the freezer.” Simply nodding, the mare did just that, kicking her door closed, hanging her hat and red scrunchies on the hook near her door, and tossed the note on her desk before making her way into the bathroom. The next half hour was spent soaking and rinsing out the thick mud which gripped at her fur, mostly around her fetlocks and underbelly, although thankfully the more sensitive areas were spared. She opted out of a full soap and scrub, just wanting most of the sweat and mud rinsed off. Although, maybe the suds and smells would help distract her mind from the mental image of that person persisting to pester her until she wanted to scream. Instead, she bit her towel harder, cringing at the stale taste and violently rubbing it along her left side. Another fifteen or so minutes of drying, and she stepped out of her room, towel still around her mane and another draped across her back. She didn’t drip precipitation, but she was still fairly wet at her skin. Still, walking to the main area, she found Bill sitting at the table, munching on what smelled like cooked meat in a patty form, something she’d expect from a hayburger, minus bun. Spotting her, Bill quickly swallowed, then pointed to the kitchen area. “I didn’t thaw one, but under the deer was some frozen fish. Can… I mean, I’ve heard of horses eating fish.” “We can, but more of a pegasus thang.” “Alright, so I can save that then, just in case.” She nodded, then walked into the kitchen, where the box of oatmeal was still out from earlier that morning. Then, something else warm graced her nose, and she sniffed around. “I also found some corn muffin mix. Found powdered milk and eggs, and some cinnamon to add some flavor to it. They should be done soon.” Applejack smiled. “Well, I’ll be, ya’ll can cook, too? Shame ya ain’t a pony.” Bill laughed. “Really? That’s what takes your fancy? A guy- or, what, stallion? Yeah, a stallion that can cook?” Applejack opened the windowless door on the electric oven, looking at the muffins and how they’d just started to brown around the edges. “Right now, fer how I feel, I’d take a stallion so long as he were swingin’,” she said as she closed the oven door. Bill began to choke on his food, and Applejack had a laugh at his expense. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Still coughing, Bill wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Not what- what else could you mean by that?” Opening her mouth to speak, the mare hesitated, then closed it with a click of her teeth. “Huh, I don’t rightly know. I’m tired. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” “I know what you mean. I’m just… drained. Mentally, emotionally, and top it off with some physical labor we didn’t expect?” Applejack nodded, then opened the oven once more, and grabbed an oven mitt, one which did not fit properly, but was enough to grab and pull the tray out, and placed it on the counter top. “They’re done.” “Awesome,” Bill began, then stood and made his way into the kitchen. “Without butter, they’re probably gonna suck, but I did what I could.” As the human placed his plate into the sink and began to rinse it, Applejack patted his thigh. “No worries, Sugarcube. They smell great, so I’m sure they’ll taste good, too.” Making herself another bowl of oatmeal, and taking two of the corn muffins, Applejack sat at the table and was joined by Bill as he brought two of the corn muffins as well. They ate in relative silence, save for grumbling about a lack of butter from the human. Applejack agreed, but assured the human, like the coffee, they’d find a way to live on. After eating, Bill retreated to his room and the bathroom to shower, while Applejack walked over to the sitting area. Looking between the two chairs and couch, she picked the larger one. She tossed her towels to the floor, with the intention of picking them up later. Giving it a few strong pats with her hoof, which sent dust flying about and caused her to sneeze, she jumped up onto the couch. Looking around absentmindedly, she noticed on one of the end tables a lone magazine. She grabbed it, then laid down on the couch, her right side on the cushions and her back nestled into the back support of the couch. Opening it, there was nothing she could read, only taking away that some of what was written must be advertisement for the black and white pictures showing off random human goods. A few pages in, she found a word cross puzzle, which was halfway filled out, although strangely with Equestrian, or possibly English as Bill called his language, characters. It looked like whoever was using the pencil was winning, or at least had more words down than the blue pen writer had. How strange that their two languages were nearly identical. She shrugged, and decided to give it a shot anyway. Honestly, anything was a good distraction at this point from that letter. Her only hope was she didn’t have any nightmares about that finely dressed, hanging form. —------- Applejack was awoken with a start, her dream ending abruptly in a bout of fuzz and haze. The magazine fell off of her muzzle to the floor, and the pencil she’d found lost to the couch cushion. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but the faintest traces of light could be seen starting to brighten up the backside of the blinds. She also noticed she’d been covered with a blanket, and her towels were gone. Slowly, shoving the blanket off of herself, she sat up, yawned, and looked around. Most of the furniture hadn’t been touched, although there was a bit of a disturbance on one of the chairs, from a figure sitting in it. The glass faced box on the cart had also been turned towards it, and parked closer to the chair. Bill. Stretching, Applejack landed her hooves on the floor, then made her way to her room and the connected bathroom. A few minutes later, she exited the bathroom, then her own room. She paused at Bill’s room door which was closed, and thought about what to do. Shrugging, she let him be, and made her way back into the kitchen, and began sifting through all the cupboards, looking at all the supplies they had. It wasn’t fresh, mostly powdered or canned, but maybe she could make something out of it. —------- An hour later, Bill’s room door opened, and a half dressed human stumbled out, still rubbing his eyes but appearing to be mostly awake. The sun had started to poke out and shine into the windows about 30 minutes ago, which caused him to stir. What caused him to actually wake up, however, was the smell coming from outside of his room. He’d wandered out, and Applejack watched as he stepped out of the hall, bleary eyes looking at her, at the large stew pot, then he simply walked over to the dining table and took his seat. Rolling her eyes, she continued stirring, occasionally taking a wooden spoon and giving the broth a taste, then adding a pinch of salt. “Mornin’ there, Bill.” “Morning, Applejack.” She smirked. “Ya know, ya can call me Jackie. I kinda like it, actually.” “It’s not something weird, is it? I just have a thing with nicknames, and like to give them out.” “All good, Sugarcube.” Bill stretched. “Well, then I guess you should know, Bill is my nickname.” “Really now?” Applejack said, wooden spoon in her mouth as she stirred. “Yeah, my actual name is William Knight. But everyone just calls me Bill.” “William Knight,” Applejack said, rolling her tongue in her mouth. “I like that. Feels like yer name.” The human laughed at that. “Well that’s good, at least my parents got it right.” There was silence for a few seconds, then, “Say, what are you making? Smells brothy.” Applejack nodded. “That’s cause it be jus’ that. Figured, instead of makin’ a bunch’a small meals, with what we got I’d make us one large pot o’ stew so we have it fer all day, maybe two, dependin’ on how hungry we get.” “Great idea. I can thaw some more deer meat and cook it for myself later.” “I thought’a that too. Didn’t pull any out though.” “That’s fine, I had some meat last night, I’ll survive a day without. Just wish we had some damn coffee though,” Bill said, adding a large yawn at the end. “Fuck.” “I hear ya. I did find some tea packets, but I only drink tha stuff when Twilight’s around.” “No thanks, doesn’t do it for me. If anything, warm tea makes me sleepy.” The mare smiled, and after a taste test of a single chunk of each canned vegetable she’d added, she was satisfied enough to turn off the burner. This morning’s experiments with the electric stove and oven had been one of curiosity, and even a bit of fun. She’d been tempted to just use the wood stove, but there were only a few pieces of cut wood to the side, not enough for cooking a large meal like this. Plus she got to play with something only a few Ponyville residents had access to, and it was kind of neat. Instant heat from turning a little knob! Rarity would be jealous. “A’right, should be good.” She grabbed the two bowls still in the drying rack, and using a ladle filled them both about half way. Using an old wooden cutting board she’d found and used to chop on, she placed the board on her back, then each bowl onto said board, and walked to the table. “That’s still bullshit.” Smiling, Applejack placed the wooden cutting board, using her mouth, onto the table. “If ya’d like, I could walk on my hind legs like a Canterlot waitress, cept they normally got a skirt ‘r somethin’ ta keep’em modest.” Bill opened his mouth to retort, stopped, thought better, and grumbled as he pulled one of the bowls closer to him. With a grumble, Bill got up from the table and made for the kitchen as Applejack sat in the same chair as yesterday. She watched him open a few drawers, until he found one which rattled, full of silverware. Applejack eyed the spoon still sitting, pointing upward, in the drying rack. As Bill sat down, the mare’s eyebrow twitched, and the human smirked. “Something the matter, Jackie?” She took a deep breath, in and out, then smiled. “Eenope. Not at all, William.” This time, Bill visibly shuddered. “Woah, that was like, how my mom calls me when I fuck up. Don’t… do that again please.” “As long as ya don’t do that again, on purpose ‘r not.” “Do what?” “The spoon?” Bill looked down to the instrument. “What about it? I don’t have that crazy tongue like you do, so I need it.” Applejack’s ears flattened. “Oh. I thought…” This time, Bill raised a brow. “Nothin’, never mind.” Applejack began blowing on her steaming bowl of stew. Bill did the same, however placed his spoon into it first and pulled out a glob, blowing on that too. Once cooled, the two fell into a comfortable quiet bicker as they ate. Bill complained about not having any bread, and Applejack complained about his complaining. Once finished, Bill stood, grabbing both of their bowls and his spoon, and made his way to the sink to rinse them off. “Oh, also, sorry I upset you like that. I was just trying to be funny, like you do to me.” Applejack looked to the human confused, then he pointed to the spoon from yesterday in the drying rack. Applejack huffed. “So ya DID know!” “Yeah, but I thought it was funny at the time.” With a loud harumph, she crossed her forelegs over her chest, cheeks puffed out in a pout. “That’s still adorable.” “Hush it.” Once washed, Bill placed the dishes into the drain rack to dry, and walked back into the dining area. “So, gimme a few to get dressed, then I’ll be ready to look for any fuel cans. You?” Ears returning erect, Applejack nodded. “I jus’ need a few minutes, ‘nd then yeah I’ll be ready.” “Alright. I was gonna ask if you got to those binders last night, but I found you asleep on the couch, all curled up like you were cold, also adorable by the by. Nabbed an extra blanket from your room since I only had the one on my bed.” Smiling, Applejack got down from her seat. “I were more tired than I thought. Thank ya kindly fer that.” Bill shrugged. “I’m more surprised I didn’t wake you when I tried the TV. Nothing on the airwaves, but no converter box on it so figured I wouldn’t get anything. Although…” Bill tapped his chin, walking towards the hall, “I wonder if someplace like Russia changed their TV’s?” Applejack, walking beside him, gave him a curious look. “Never mind, confusing stuff. Just, nothing was on the magic picture box in the sitting area. There’s a VCR on the shelf of the cart, but so far I’ve found no tapes.” “I’ll jus’ pretend I know what yer talkin’ about.” “That’s the spirit!” Bill said and gave the mare’s back a couple encouraging pats. Rolling her eyes, Applejack entered her room as Bill entered his, however didn’t close her door like he had with his. In truth, she didn’t need to do much to get ready. Comb out her mane and tail, grab her hat, and be ready to go. So not wasting any time, she went ahead and got her mane and tail brushed to their usual self, adding the scrunchies and putting on the Sneed hat to finish off her new normal attire. With no sound coming from Bill’s doorway, she stood in her room, unsure what to do to pass the time. She wanted to check out those binders, but she also feared what she might find. Or more so, that she’d get absorbed into them and not do anything else for the day, when they’d already made a plan. Instead, she walked out of her room, closing her door, and went back into the kitchen. Grabbing the now dried bowls, she found some tinfoil for a cover, and poured them each another helping for a later meal. —------- Applejack had just placed the bowls in a box, on the back floor of the 469 when Bill came walking outside. “Oh, there you are,” Bill said, now dressed, although different pants than before and still shoeless, carrying white socks in his hand. He wore the same button shirt over a clean looking T-shirt, but had attempted to, at least, clean off some of the mud splatterings. “Yeah, just put a couple’a bowls of stew in the vehicular fer us, so we’d have a more hearty meal while we’re out.” “Nice, thanks.” Bill said, then looked around briefly. “So, we need to find some gas cans, or anything more heavy duty to move a liquid which is easily combustible.” “A’right.” Reaching into the open back door, Bill grabbed the boots, then doing one foot at a time he wiped them off with a hand. Placed on a sock, slipped on the boot, and then snuggly lacing them as best as he could. He gave them a few experimental stomps and power walking strides. “Yeah, a little big, but they’ll work. I will have to find something to shove down in the toes later.” “A’right. Won’t cause no chafing or blisters, will it?” Bill raised a brow. “For someone who doesn’t wear normal shoes, you know about that?” Rolling her eyes, Applejack retrieved the yoke harness from the back floor, and showed him. “It’s tha same principle. My brother would constantly cause injuries along his neck until he grew into our pa’s.” “Huh. Well, like these boots, we’ll figure something out for that, just in case we gotta use it again.” Nodding, Applejack replaced the yoke, then closed the back door. “So, ya wanna look in the big warehouse of impossible? Or outside?” “Let's check out here real quick.” First the two walked around the outside of the building, only to find nothing but a couple of old 55 gallon barrels, rusted beyond any good use, save for burning trash. Something which the pair noticed one such similarly conditioned barrel out in a clearing to the side of the garage, up on cement blocks, top already cut open. After an entire lap around the garage, and a quick glance around themselves to ensure no other smaller, storage-like buildings could be found at a distance, Bill opened the far end roll up door he’d used before, and they entered the garage. With a click of the switch, the lights came on, seeming to go on forever. “I will never get used to that,” Bill said. “Same,” agreed the mare. And so the search began. What they were looking for wasn’t something unusual for the mare, but Bill also mentioned trying to find anything that could assist in the transportation of said canisters. After a good half hour, Applejack hollered from one of the many aisles. “Where are ya at?” Bill called after her. “Over ‘ere.” “That’s as much help as shouting ‘Polo!’” There was a bit of silence, then the mare called out. “Polo.” “Oh for fucks sake,” Bill said quietly to himself, sighed, then called out “Marco.” After several bouts of back and forth, including some laughter, Bill found the mare looking up halfway through a set of shelves. Bill walked and stood beside her, and looked up as well. “Oh hey, that looks like a roof rack.” “Eeyup. There’s also some empty red can’s over there,” she pointed to their right, “along with some heavily used wood crates. One got some random parts ‘nd tools in it.” Bill looked behind them, and grinned. “Oh nice. Okay, so we need to figure out how to get that rack down.” Applejack nodded. “‘Nd figure out how ta mount it.” “One step at a time.” “Sure, sure. So, ladder?” Bill grimaced. “I’d prefer a rolling safety ladder you’d find in Home Depot.” Applejack raised a curious brow at the human. “I worked there for a couple years. Basically a mobile set of stairs with sides so the risk of falling is halved.” “Gotcha, makes sense. So, how do we remember where this here is?” Tapping his chin, Bill looked around, then down at his feet, noticing the layer of dust they were leaving foot and hoof prints in. Then, a bit of yellow paint caught his attention. “What’s this?” Kneeling, he swiped his hand across it, revealing some large markings. “Watch out, Bill.” He stood, and the mare backed up, and using her tail she began sweeping the dust off the floor, sending it everywhere and causing the human to cough. Once the dust settled, they looked at what was painted. “Oh hey. A letter and a number.” Sure enough, a massive E7 was painted on the floor. Both human and mare walked opposite directions, and began wiping more dust off the ground, and finding additional markings. “I got E6!” “‘Nd I got E8!” Both returned to the first spot they’d cleared, then looked down towards where the garage doors should be. “So, there's one wall. We have got eight columns, and we’re in row E.” “Sounds right,” Applejack nodded. “And lets say, for lack of argument, we might have twenty six rows since there are that many letters in the alphabet.” Applejack’s ears went flat against the back of her head. “Well, so we at least have an idea of the mapping? Let's just run with it. Move out from here, looking up and down, then at the ends, see if we find anything.” “Right. Okay, I’ll keep down this here way like I were.” “And I’ll go over there and do something similar.” Both nodded to each other, and took off. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long before Bill shouted out- “Eureka! Got it, Jackie! Meet you back at E7!” Snickering to herself, Applejack made her way back, and the closer she got, the louder the sound of dry, squeaky wheels bounced off the walls and hit her, until she watched a massive set of movable stairs round a corner at E7, Bill pushing them. “I swear two of the wheels aren’t even moving,” the human panted, stopping to lean against the steel stairs, wiping his brow. Applejack looked up, whistling as she noticed they almost reached the second to top rack. “Yeah, also remind me later to show you where I found this. Against a set of shelves that had metal doors, locking out whatever’s on them. Not sure what’s there, but they have these massive locks on them. Doubt I’d be able to cut them, or it would take forever with a good torch set.” “Curious…” Applejack mused. “Yeah, but we got the access. Spot me, I’m going to head up.” “If ya’ll’re sure.” Bill stepped onto the first step of the stairs, and his weight caused four little springs to collapse, raising the wheels which allowed the four corners of the ladder to contact the floor, making it immobile. “I’m good for it, trust me.” —------- Bill’s right foot was stuck between two of the steps, which kept him from falling down the remaining three quarters of total stairs. His hands gripped the roof rack as gravity mixed with the rack’s weight tried to stretch him like a midevil torture device. “I’m not good for it, I’m not good for it!” Bill shouted. Both of Applejack’s hooves covered her face, then quickly she marched up the steel steps. She approached the opposite end of the rack, and grabbed it with her teeth. She braced her forehoves on either hand rail of the ladder, and her back hooves on the steps. The rack sat contently along the hand rails of the stairs. “A’write, I gopht ipht.” Slowly, Bill released the rack, and when it wasn’t about to go tumbling down, he pulled himself up. Releasing his trapped foot, he quickly caught his breath and grabbed the other side of the rack with both hands, pulling up. “Okay, I got it now. Let's ease it down.” Releasing the rack from her teeth, Applejack rolled her jaw, then held up a hoof. “One sec, Sugarcube.” She turned around, which was a feat considering how high they were and how narrow the mobile stairs were. Backing herself to the rack she placed one of the pipes along her shoulder blades, using her neck to stop it from moving forward. She looked down at the easy 20 feet of distance from her to the ground. Gulp. “You ready?” Bill asked. “Yeah,” Applejack said cautiously. Slowly, step by step, the two worked the rack down towards the ground, the metal pips of the rack grinding on the safety rails of the steps, until the mare was safely on the concrete floor. She moved out of the way as Bill allowed it to tumble the last couple of feet with a loud clatter of steel pipes echoing with each impact. Neither rack or floor seemed any worse for wear. Both were panting, Applejack already sitting down to lean against the shelving unit beside them. Bill quickly joined her sitting on the dirty floor. “That was a lot heavier than I thought it would be,” he coughed, then, “sorry about that.” Applejack waved a hoof, still getting herself calmed down. Not that the task was hard, but it was much more nerve wracking than anything. At any moment she could have… or he could have… The mare shuddered, and Bill grabbed her opposite shoulder, pulling her towards him for a sort of sideways hug, drawing her against his side. “It’s okay, we’re good. How anyone could load something so heavy so high up, I can’t imagine.” Applejack shrugged, resting her face into his right breast, taking a deep breath of his scent. Slowly, both of their breaths calmed down, and Applejack pulled away from the human. Both look to the rack sitting on the floor. “Now, how to mount it?” she asked. Bill let out a chuckle, then reached into his left breast pocket, and pulled out a plastic bag. “Hardware was string tied to it. Seems to simply bolt on, so we should be good.” Applejack huffed at that, then smiled for some reason even though she couldn’t explain. —------- Bill had moved the 469 into the far end bay, parking it backwards so they could have an easier time loading it on top of the truck. Of course, with one of them being tall and the other short, it went as well as one would expect. Poorly. Hours later, as noon drew closer, Bill tightened the last of the clamps down, ensuring the rack was secure and tight. He closed the small covers which allowed the rack to mount to the roll cage, both snaps clicking into place to seal the roof from any rain. Applejack had already pulled out their bowls of stew, and went back to the kitchen to warm them up, walking out with them both on her back, one with a spoon in it. Bill reached down and grabbed both, allowing the mare to sit and drop the cutting board. He handed her the one without a spoon, and Applejack dove in, lapping up the warm stew with her long tongue. Bill simply chuckled, and sitting on the ground next to her began to eat as well. Between bites, the two spoke. “So, we got two of them cans. And those two crates. Looks like there’s still room up there, dependin’ on how we tie ‘em down.” “Mhm,” Bill agreed with a full mouth, chewing, then with a mighty swallow grabbed the vodka bottle with water and took a drink. Applejack raised a hoof, and once he was done drinking, passed the opened bottle, allowing the mare to take a drink as well. “So,” Bill coughed, then cleared his throat. “So, we will grab that small crate with the stuff in it, and those two gas cans, and head out. Sound good?” “Eeyup,” Applejack hoofed back the almost empty bottle to Bill, who took it and gave it a shake. “Well, after we refill our water and some more of that stew. Good lord you’re gonna make me fat with this.” Applejack barked a mighty laugh at that. While eating, the mare couldn’t help but look over to the large sets of metal beams that were bolted down to the floor. For some reason, something about them, or what Bill had called them the day before, made her tilt her head curiously. “Say, Bill, what did you call them there things?” Bill paused, chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “What? Those car hoists? Or lifts, whatever.” “Yeah, ‘nd what do they do?” WIth a spoonful half way to his mouth, the human paused, and blinked. “They… lift vehicles.” Slowly, Applejack turned her head to look at the human, eyes squinting at him, ears flat. “Oh. That would have…” Bill didn’t turn his head, but his eyes looked over to the mare, and he visibly winced from her glare. “Let it be known, I’m not the smartest human around.” There was a mini stare down between the two, and then Applejack looked away, smacked the back of her head onto the side of the 469, and laughed. Bill simply grumbled, something about women, and went back to his meal, finishing it in relative silence