A peculiar shrieking sound escaped the bloody jaws of the Spitter. She, like the Smoker, preferred a more… indirect way of dealing with the survivors. A small stream of her deadly ‘Spitter goo’ dripped from her burned mouth. She, like her fellow infected, was searching for food in this strange world. She heard some rustling from the leaves. It stood more upright with its unnaturally long neck sticking forward and it emitted another shriek. Any form of intelligent prey would know instantly that this… thing was unnatural. But, despite its inner protest, the being that was the source of the rustling poked its head out of the bush it was hiding in and made a small ‘eep’. The Spitter blinked. The Smoker and Hunter weren’t lying; there really were flying ponies here. It slowly walked up to the surprise Spitter.
“Oh, um, sorry to bother you but, are you hurt?” it asked in a quiet voice.
The Spitter hunched over more and some of its deadly goo slowly poured out of its mouth. Again, most creatures would have run as fast as they could upon seeing the obvious threat display. Unfortunately, for her, Fluttershy was not one who has never seen a strange (and dangerous) exotic creature. The Spitter really could care less about the pony. In fact, it could potentially lead it to more food. But, Smoker had said to keep their presence secret from everyone but the survivors. The Spitter growled again at the timid yellow pony. She backed away slightly, noticing now that the goo was burning the grass beneath it. As the pony turned around to flee, the Spitter spat its specialised goo at the pony. It continued to run, but not before it got a face full of the goo. All the Spitter had to do was waiting until the goo took effect. After some short seconds, an ear splitting scream cried out throughout the forest…
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About 2 miles away, the Smoker heard the scream and started to head towards it. The only possible explanation for the screaming is that one of his infected comrades must have encountered a pony despite his orders. The Smoker started to mentally tick off what one it could be, it couldn’t be the Charger, he was currently eating that bear. It couldn’t be the Jockey; he would have heard him by now. The Hunter, maybe, but he was injured. The Boomer? That fat ass couldn’t catch anything that could move. That leaves the Tank and the Spitter. If it was the Tank, there wouldn’t have been any screaming. Only the sound of roaring and bones breaking. So, the Smoker decided that it was the Spitter. After some uninterrupted traveling, the Smoker quickly hid behind some trees and saw the scene that was unfolding.
“Fluttershy, are you alright? We heard you from the library!” said a purple pony. The yellow one, Fluttershy was covering her face with her forelegs.
“Please… help… it burns really bad…” she whimpered.
The young survivor slowly walked up to her, “can we see it?” he asked, “Nick has a first aid kit, and it will help until we get you to a hospital.” He glanced over to the purple pony, “y’all have hospitals right?” he asked. The purple pony nodded.
“N-No. It hurts too much…” Fluttershy said quietly, sniffing. A flying blue pony hovered next to her.
“Don’t worry, it’s going to be ok,” she said.
The survivor in the white suit walked closer and sniffed the air, “hey Ellis, do you smell that?” he asked.
The young survivor sniffed the air as well, “yeah, it smells like… Spitter goo?”
“Spitter goo?” asked the purple pony, “what’s a Spitter and what is the goo?”
“A Spitter is a long neck bitch that spits her burning goo at us,” said the fat survivor.
“Let me guess, it’s a zombie?” asked the purple one again.
“Damn right it’s a zombie, those bitches spit far,” replied the fat survivor. The Smoker backed away from the group and traveled around them to search for the Spitter. To the Smokers surprise, the Spitter was also watching the survivors. The smoker communicated with it.
“Survivors… spit… tongue… kill,” said the Smoker in the form of coughs and wheezing breaths.
The Spitter replied with a series of low key shrieks and neck positions. Their plan, the Smoker will ensnare one of the survivors with its tongue and the Spitter will spit the spot where the survivor is trapped. Sure, it wasn’t the best plan they could have come up with but it was more of a decoy. On his way here, the Smoker came across the Tank. It was surrounded with flesh disfigured corpses of what were once animals. All they needed was a loud enough sound and the Tank will come running. Like the sound of panicking survivors. The Smoker climbed behind two large rocks and got into position. The Spitter was behind a tree. She overheard the group trying to help the injured pony.
“Ok… let doctor Nick fix you up,” said Nick as he knelt down and gently moved Fluttershy’s forelegs to see the damage done to her face. “Holy SHIT! What the hell happened to you?!” he said as he saw her face, almost all the fur had come off and there were third degree burns covering where there wasn’t fur. She looked at Nick with pained eyes. Fluttershy spoke quietly.
“Is it bad?”
Nick nodded, “what exactly where you doing before this happened?” he said as he put some burn medicine on her.
“There was this animal… it looked sort of like you but with a really big neck and some green saliva dripping out of its mouth,” she said, wincing.
“Sounds like you had a meeting with a Spitter,” said Nick as he started wrapping some bandages around where he put the burn medicine, “why the hell did you not run? That thing could have killed you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it was,” she said quietly as nick finished putting on the bandages. He stood up.
“Yeah, well, be more careful next time. That was our last health kit,” he replied walking away. “Now, can we go out of the damn forest? I keep thinking that those mud men are out here.”
“Mud men?” asked Applejack.
“You know mud people or… pones in your case,” replied Rochelle, “Nick and Ellis hated them. Now come on, let’s get her to the hospital.”
Now! The Smoker fired its tongue at Rochelle; ensnaring her while the Spitter burst from its hiding spit and spat the ground beneath her.
“What the..! Help me!” She shouted as she realised what was happening. The Spitter started to claw at Rochelle as the others ran to her aid.
“We got a Spitter!” said Nick as he pulled out his frying pan.
“I got it,” said Ellis as he swung his guitar at the Spitter’s head. Coach was starting to cut through the tongue with his chainsaw.
“ERRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIKKK!” the Spitter shrieked in pain as its entire skull was crushed by the weapon. The remaining ‘goo’ leaked from its broken body. Fluttershy covered her un-bandaged eye as a slow stream of blood poured out of the Spitter’s mouth and mixed in with the small puddle of goo.
“Thanks Coach,” said Rochelle weakly as Coach helped her to her feet.
“No problem Ro,” he replied, sheathing his chainsaw. He walked over to the Spitter. “Now what the hell was this thing doing here?”
The survivors and ponies stared at the mangled body of the Spitter. Out of the corner of his eye, Ellis saw the Smoker flee into the forest.
“Hey y’all, that Smokers still out there,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I’ll stay back and see if it comes back. Y'all watch out for anymore infected. Now, go bring her to the hospital.”
They nodded and took the injured Fluttershy down the path nearby and made their way back to the town. Ellis slowly started to make his way back to town. He heard something and stopped. It sounded like a Witches crying.
‘no, that’s impossible, there wasn’t a Witch during the hurricane, they were all back at the sugar mill,” he told himself, ‘I just hope nothing else came here with us.’
“Hyeeh, hyeeh, hyeeh…” a loud laughing sound echoed throughout the trees.
“Aw shit!” he said as he ran after the others. If there ever were a worse time to see a Jockey (besides all the time) it’s when you’re alone in a forest…