Sleeping Sun

by Feather Storm

No Tomorrow

I felt the hot breath of the dry wind roll over my neck, lazily tossing my mane aside. I lifted my head and gazed over the now devastated place, letting the memories play in my mind. I felt the brown sand under my hooves from where I stood, overlooking the town of Appleloosa. I remembered everything as if it were yesterday. If only it were yesterday, I thought. Every inch of me was begging to leave, not wanting to understand what had happened here. This was a feeling I had grown all too familiar with, and knew all too well. Recalling another time, I remembered the days of my Friendship Reports to the Princess- an altogether happier time in my life. It was here with the unity of my friends we shared an unbreakable bond, and together learned a lesson of compromise and understanding. Now, the lives of so many of the ponies that had lived here had been torn and broken. Rotting bodies lay in defeat in the streets and in buildings. Defeat, or so one would only hope.
For now as I ventured through the small western town of Appaloosa, I kept a vigilant eye out for any sign of danger. Walking slowly, I kept my hoof beats quiet, strategically trying to keep from directing any attention to myself. My mission? Retrieve medical supplies and return to my group, maybe some food as well. Food wasn't really an issue; apple trees had been plenty and generous along our journey. But now, the orchards had grown wild without anypony to care for them. Apples lay all over the earth, bruised and decaying. I wondered if the same fate awaited us.
Heading through the streets of the ghost town, I directed myself toward one of the many of the old world homes. I found it strange how this town didn't have a building set aside specifically for medical purposes like Ponyville did, but I guessed that maybe there was at least one Doctor that had lived in this small town. Even if there wasn't, somepony had to have some kind of medical supplies somewhere in their homes that we needed. I stepped up on the porch of this one particular home, whose body was a nice caramel and had a hay colored roof. An old wooden rocking chair stood beside the front door, and an old carriage wheel was propped up beside it. How... country, I thought to myself upon the sight. Approaching the door, I lifted a hoof and pulled it open, revealing a ripped screen door. As I scanned the subject, I realized that somepony had fallen through. Fallen, or forced their way through, because the bottom corners were torn from their places. A chill ran up my spine as I imagined the possibilities of the scene. Pushing back the screen door and stepping through, I entered the house.
This place was silent, matching the haunting feeling with the rest of the town. An unrelenting force burned in my soul with the intensity of the heat of Celestia's sun outside. I watched and listened in silence as I observed the house's features around me. The room held a veil of shadow without any lighting besides the sunlight peering in from glass windows. It appeared that I was in the living room from an old television set and a dusty couch.
"Creepy." I commented, keeping my voice low as I began the task of checking the rooms.
I sorted through my saddlebags to find my trusty silver blade, levitating it in a field of my magic, preparing to clear the rooms from anything that moved. From the living room, to the kitchen, to the single bathroom, everything seemed to be... fairly average. Not necessarily all that strange, I thought to myself. Finding a set of stairs, I headed to the second floor. I creeped as quietly as I possible could up the stairs, finding a narrow hallway with four doors at the top. Each door was closed, so I assumed they would all be empty. Not wanting to risk it, I delayed myself over by each door, laying my body up against the wood, taking my time in gently twisting the nob, cautiously peaking in before actually opening into the room. The first room was fairly average, just another bedroom. A small bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a lamp... The next room was the one that surprised me. Opening the door, my eyes widened. I felt something caught in my throat, my lungs squeezing in my chest, making it harder to breathe.
It was a foal's room. A colt's to be precise, from the southern themed bedspread with sheriff stars and tumbleweeds, to the tiny tan cowboy hat lying secluded in the floor. A small body lie limply draped over the sheets, one that had obviously been there for quite some time. As the smell reached my nostrils, I wretched myself away from the door, dropping the blade on the wooden floor, coughing up the air in my lungs. Tears gathered in my eyes. I felt like falling to my knees at the sore, lifeless feeling in my heart, the overwhelming despair; all until I head a groan coming from behind that door. I froze in shock as the sound continued, listening as the hard drop of something shook the floor, a horrendous sensation filling my gut. I turned back, my body trembling in fright at the dreadful discovery that awaited me. But I already knew. As my eyes met the tragedy of this thing, this creature hungrily moaning out for my flesh, I released the liquid in my eyes, watching as it dragged itself to me. My eyes fell to the blade, my mind screaming in instinct to pick it up and end it's suffering there, but my body was numb. I couldn't. I just couldn't.
"I-...I-..." I began, as if I could reason with the infected pony.
In response, the creature stretched its head and let out a gurgled growl, the decomposed body of the foal steadily approaching me, its target by the second. It was using its front legs to lose the distance between us, because I had realized that its back legs had decayed much beyond further usage. This colt of blue and barely recognizable cream hair, only old enough to have just earned it's cutie mark of a sheriff's star.
I fell on my rump, watching as the suffering foal dragged itself over to me, reaching it's hooves out to attempt to touch me. My mind was spinning.
"...I'm so sorry."
The blade dropped sharply from the air, meeting it's place in the skull of the colt. His blood splattered and draped itself on the surrounding walls and on his bedroom door before recollecting on the floor with the increasing pool of blood spreading from his head. It soaked into his bedroom carpet, forever staining it red. I ripped the blade from his brain, levitating the dripping dagger in my direction. His lifeless, spiritless cloudy eyes still proceeded to look into mine, but the pony ceased it's advances and lie forever inanimate on the floor.
My cold eyes lingered on his body, playing the scene in my head. The infection was spreading rapidly through Appleloosa. He had gotten bitten, and had ran home to hide himself, maybe to find his parents. He had been so terrified that he had ripped through the screen door and closed himself in his bedroom, here to die alone. Never to grow up to become what he was meant to be. Never to experience what life had wanted for him. Here, to die alone.
"You're free now."