//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: The Beginning Of the End 
// Story: The War to End All Wars 
// by RainDancer 
//------------------------------//

Once she looked back out at the stars, she found herself staring again at the meteors. Something didn't seem right. It was as if some niggling telltale in her mind was flashing on and off, but she couldn't quite pin it down. It was certainly related to the book, she knew, but....oh no. It came to her. Those aren't meteors. Those are missiles. She subsequently tugged hard at Mac's frame. “Mac! We have to get inside! NOW!” She was panting, and raced inside even as the confused (and honestly a bit hurt) stallion trotted slowly inside. Twilight was like a whirlwind. “Applejack! Applejack! Get Granny Smith and Applebloom inside! Now! SPIKE!” She yelled, racing through the house to find her scaly friend. “EVERYPONY! Get into the basement!” She was shaking with terror and adrenaline, panting with exertion.
Confused and more than a bit scared, the ponies reluctantly filed towards the cellar. Finding Spike, she tore through her saddlebags. “Tell me I have some here...c'mon, c'mon...aha!” Pulling out a quill and paper, she rapidly scratched out a message of warning to Celestia, saying the sudden meteors that were coming over the city weren't meteors. Wrapping it hastily, Spike burned it and jumped onto her back. “T-Twi? What's going on?” She gently kissed his forehead, shaking her head. “Not now Spike, we've stuff to do. Let's get to the basement.” Trotting there quickly, she piled with the rest of the Apple family beneath the apples and old carts, crouching as deep as she could into the ditr, even using her magic to dig further so the family could hide. 
The Apples, however, were unconvinced. “Twilight, just what'n'tarnation are you doin'? First y'have us all run down here, an then start diggin'in our cellar!” Applejack was exasperated, for while Twilight was normally level-headed, when she got crazy, she got crazy. So, Twilight expounded to her and the others the story of just what to do when under threat of missile strike.
“Look. You have to understand. I discovered this book in Princess Luna's library, sitting on the floor and molding. I took it home to fix it up, and restore it. I did. I read it. It's a tome on how to wage and defend against threats and attacks from other ponies, and contains hundreds of blueprints and industrial plans for weapons. Now, the things that are shooting across the sky right now are called eye-cee-bee-emms. I'm still not entirely sure what they do, but-”
Twilight Sparkle's hasty explanation of what an ICBM was built for and how to defend against one (she was slipping into Teacher Mode, after all) was suddenly cut off. Everypony in the cellar, from Big Macintosh to the frail (and very light) Granny Smith were tossed to the floor, and Twilight magically herded them into the hole she had dug. The ground itself shook like a nervous filly on the first day of magical kindergarten, and they heard a deep, low roar, much like a dragons', but lower and much louder. The walls of the cellar seemed to explode into shards and splinters of wood, as the house above the pit collapsed, and tumbled down, seemingly burying the now-terrified pony family huddling below. 

All was silent. All was dark.

It felt like they were moving through especially thick water, when she came around. Twilight opened her eyes slowly, finding her face pressed against...something. Something warm, she judged after a moment, and pleasantly furry. She quickly realized it was moving, too. Up, then down. Up, and down. She was almost lulled back to sleep by the motion before it struck her. Whatever it was, she wasn't sure, but memories of terror, meteors, and running into the basement. She was in a hole, she divined, by trying to stretch her legs and finding each direction blocked by dirt. All directions, that is, save for the one directly before her, where she was pressed against pony. She was surprised she hadn't suffocated, at first. Pushing her hooves up again, she had barely stretched it more than a few inches when she felt it break out into something clear. Light pushed its' way into her little hole, and she was surprised. Wasn't it night out? Light? Why would there be light? It took her just a few minutes to dig her way out, and shove the dirt off of the big red pony beside her. She was worried until she realized that the motion had been Big Mac breathing, and was relieved momentarily. She shakily climbed to her hooves, and looked out. What she was was a sight she would never forget.

Spread across the horizon were two angry, black, baleful-looking mushrooms, glimmering with red. With a dull horror, Twilight realized that they weren't mushrooms, at all. They were black smoke-clouds, tinged here and there with those angry red specks. One looked like it had hit over the capital itself, and she couldn't see anything of Canterlot Castle itself, as it was obscured by the giant cloud. Forcing her eyes away from the horror, she made herself look down at her immediate surroundings. Laying about was the Apple's ancestral family home. Well, what was left of it. It looked, quite rightly, like a bomb had gone off. There was nothing left standing. All the trees of the orchards, from her vantage point atop the hill that crested the farm, had their leaves and any remaining apples were long gone. The bare skeletons of branches were left in their wake, and most of these had been ripped up and tossed about like the toys of a giant foal.
Hearing movement from another pile of earth, she carefully picked her way through the debris over to it. She saw Applejack's hoof sticking out of one the ground, and went over to help her friend out. After a few minutes of confused digging, she extracted Applejack and Applebloom from the hole. Helping them clean themselves, and then her own self, of the bits od firt, she shakily walked back over to her own hole. Climbing weakly, tumultuously out of it was Big Mac, coated in dirt and debris. He shook himself off, and politely declining the help of Twilight or Applejack, only utilized Applebloom for the spots he couldn't reach himself. This was all done in almost utter silence, as they were too shocked to say anything else.	There was a scrabbling underground, and the four ponies stared at the earth in fear. What new horror was going to come and meet them?
Thankfully, and to Twilight's happy surprise, it was only Spike. She cantered over and held him close, shivering, before patting his head and standing back up. She counted the Apples. Big Macintosh, Applejack, and Applebloom. She blinked back tears, because she knew enough about Granny Smith to know what had probably happened. Macintosh, thankfully, took charge of the situation.
“Hey, Applebloom. How ah'bout you'n'Spahke go'n'see if ye'kin find any o'th'things from the kitchen.” He spoke in his usual drawl, but there was something underneath, a hint of iron, that said that despite being a question, his comment was really a command. Applebloom looked at Spike and nodded silent assent, and the two of them went off in search of the kitchen. Thankfully, it was mostly undamaged, since it was on the ground floor, but it was also on the other side of the house, well away from the task that they feared lay ahead. 
They finally found her in another pile, far from the others. She had started to go back upstairs, despite Twilight's assurances, for a can or pot of something-or-other. When they found her broken and bloody body, they ended up simply staring. Each tried to say something, but couldn't find the words to, or they found their tongues twisted and tied. Granny Smith's body lay across the ground, mostly intact, but still damaged. In the evil light of the bombs that had obliterated one city for certain and probably destroyed the other, they could see where her head had been struck by some flying piece of wood, probably killing her instantly. Her eyes stared accusingly, angrily, up at the torn sky. Applejack walked over and, with tears flowing from her own gently closed Granny Smith's eyes.

"Twilight?" Big Mac asked, softly, voice on the verge of tears himself.
"Yeah?"
"We gon'deliver a whole load o'hurt on somepony, ain't we?"
"...yeah. They'll pay."