//------------------------------// // Silent Smoker // Story: Live and Let Die // by Dihinner //------------------------------// For the first time Spitter could remember, she felt scared. It wasn’t the feeling that something might be there, totally unsure of what lies within the darkness, after all, that was her for a time. No, the fear she felt was what could have happened, but thankfully didn’t. Ever since she woke up that first night in the hospital, desperately trying to rid herself of the acidic fluids building up in her stomach, the brutal realisation of the prior events hit her. She had nearly lost everything she cared about. All of them, the infected, the weeks they’ve spent together foraged a bond like no other, each of them willing to sacrifice themselves to keep even one safe from the jaws of death. It wasn’t until she heard about what happened to the others when she grew eerily silent, only speaking to another infected if necessary. So far that had only been the occasional visit from Hunter, and a brief conversation with Screamer. Spitter shuddered, those two would have been the only ones left if those ponies hadn’t decided to follow them into the forest. And even then, there was always a chance that the crazed Witch didn’t want any loose ends and slaughtered them at a later time. A sad sigh escaped her when she reminded herself that they already had lost someone in their pack of nine. A not long before the bomb exploded, sending them to Equestria, Hunter had found another infected with the ‘Hunter’ mutation. But, what Hunter noticed first was that the infected was a she, making her a Huntress. Hunter had managed to convince the Huntress to follow him so he could ask Smoker if she could join their group. Smoker had eyed Hunter, then the Huntress for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. Usually Smoker thought more about things like this, but an entire army of non-infected was attacking them along with a small group of four heading to the Great Bridge in the Distance. Explosions were tearing the streets of New Orleans apart as the group of infected struggled to find shelter. That’s when the bomb hit them. A bright flash of white energy tore the building apart and knocked all of them unconscious. When they awoke, they first noticed that they all were ponies, a greatly disturbing concept itself. But, moments after, Hunter noticed that Huntress was missing. He made sounds from shrieks to howls to try and find her, but all efforts were in vain as Huntress never responded. Hunter knew the rules if a fellow infected goes missing: he who falls behind, is left behind. Hunter was quiet for a few days, only really starting to talk again when they first arrived in Ponyville during that heat wave. Spitter frowned, on Earth, usually a heat wave lasted at least a week or two. This one lasted a total of one and a half days. And, if it was still the same month as Spitter remembered, it was late October, far too late in the year for a heat wave of that degree. Spitter spent a few more moments thinking about the journey to this spot, before a nurse opened the door. “Ms. Spitter, he’s awake.” Spitter blinked, ‘Whatever was on his mind, it must have been important enough to wake him up,’ she thought. “Did he say anything?” asked Spitter. The nurse shook her head, “No, the doctor thinks that the hit to the head he got was worse than he thought. That coupled with the fracture in his horn may have giving him…” the nurse’s voice trailed off. “Given him what?” asked Spitter. The nurse sighed, “Your friend, Smoker, might have brain damage of some sort.” Spitter stared at the nurse, then at the wall at the other side of the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Take me to him.” ********************************************************************************* A pair of dull yellow eyes stared blankly at a wall across from their owner, who was entirely motionless except for his breathing and the odd cough. A creaking sound alerted him of the door to the far right was opening, but he wouldn’t be bothered to look and see who it was. Spitter stared at Smoker lying on the bed, his eyes glazed over and motionless. There were multiple bandages across his chest and a cast around two of his legs. Another major thing Spitter noticed was that the constant cloud of smoke that surrounded Smoker’s head was gone, giving her a clear view of what Smoker’s face actually looked like. His face, like the rest of him, was charcoal grey with what may or may not be blood splattered across his muzzle, making him look like Hunter after catching a rabbit. The other thing about his face was his eyes. Not the vibrant yellow like Witch’s and Jockey’s, or the metallic yellow like her own, Charger’s and Tank’s. It wasn’t even like the muddy yellow of Boomer’s and Screamer’s. It was a dying yellow, the kind you see on burnt grass in the middle of the summer with no water. His breathing was ragged, like he had run a marathon. Spitter had also noticed that his tongue, (or she should say tongues, as she now noticed that six, shorter tongues hug lifelessly out of the tumors that covered the left side of his head and the upper back of his neck) was much longer than usual, most likely from Smoker not snapping it off as he usually does every day. “What the hell did she do to you?” whispered Spitter quietly. This got a reaction out of Smoker, as his eyes turned towards her. Their eyes met for a moment, Spitter’s fearful and Smoker’s emotionless, before Smoker turned them back to the wall. Spitter sighed; it was obvious that she wasn’t going to get a response out of him right now. Still, even though he wasn’t talking now, she could tell that Smoker would speak again if prompted to. “I’m going to come back when I get the others,” Spitter finally said, “And you’d better be ready to talk when I do.” Spitter turned and left the room, failing to notice that Smoker’s gaze was on her again. When the door clicked shut, Smoker made the loudest sound since he’d woken up. He sighed softly. He had gotten them into this mess; he’d been the one that said to run into the building where the bomb was dropped. Smoker glanced up at the roof, managing to see the very tip of his horn in his vision. It was… odd not having the smoke around his head. It felt far too alien to him to be breathing clearly. He liked the smoke that hid his face and any facial expressions that might bite him in the ass later. Smoker sighed again as he closed his eyes and drifted away into his thoughts. ****************************************************************************** “Where to begin, oh, where do I begin?” Hunter thought aloud. Gathered around him were Fluttershy, Discord and Witch. Hunter stared into the cold fire that Discord made to add to the story telling atmosphere, it popped and crackled in the night sky. “Just tell them what happened Smoker found you in that back alley,” sighed Witch. “But what about before I got in the alleyway?” said Hunter. “You became infected in that alleyway. Smoker found you literally three minutes after you turned,” said Witch, “I bet you don’t even remember why you were there in the first place.” “Well…” Hunter began. He tried his hardest to remember, but, as with the other infected, everything pre-infection was blurry and fragmented. Hunter sighed, “Boomer always was better at story telling than I was.” Witch glared at him, “What, so you’re not going to tell them?” when she saw Hunter shake his head she sighed, and turned to Fluttershy and Discord, “I guess if you want to know about our past, Boomer would be the best place to start.” As Hunter debated on waking up Boomer at this hour, a wolf howled at the moon. Out of reflex and instinct, Hunter also made an odd howling sound, abet in a slightly higher pitch than the wolf. Fluttershy looked at Hunter curiously when he stopped responding to the wolf. Hunter, being able to notice when someone was looking at him, turned to Fluttershy. “What?” Fluttershy eep’d slightly and hid behind her mane. Shrugging, Hunter yawned, giving Fluttershy and Discord full view of his pointed teeth. Suddenly, Hunter froze completely and moved his ear very slightly towards the west. “Any of you hear that?” he asked in a low voice. Discord said nothing, Fluttershy shook her head and Witch didn’t seem fazed at all. Then, very faintly an odd chirping could be heard echoing around them. This made Witch cry out and Hunter shriek. The chirping changed pitch slightly and Hunter howled again. The chirping continued to get louder when a strong chemical smell suddenly filled the air. Hunter sneezed, “Spitter, mind if you don’t spit around me? Sensitive nose and stuff.” There was another chirp, which meant sorry in the infected’s language as Spitter walked into view, her fur glowing a faint yellow green from the acidic spit stored inside of her. “Hello, Hunter, Witch and Fluttershy,” said Spitter. Then she turned to Discord, looking at Spitter oddly. Spitter shrugged it off as nothing. After all, why wouldn’t someone stare at you if you’re entire lower jaw and the upper part of your elongated neck was bloody and devoid of skin. She turned to Hunter and Witch. “Smoker’s up. I think it would be best if we all were there,” said Spitter. Witch took a slight step back and mumbled something under her breath as Hunter turned towards Fluttershy and Discord. “Sorry, guys. I guess the story will have to wait.” Spitter raised an eyebrow and looked at Witch, who shrugged. After that Spitter turned and left, Witch was not far behind and Hunter pouncing into the darkness. Discord looked at Fluttershy, who couldn’t really explain the odd behavior of the infected and offered him a glass of tea. ************************************************************************************ It was finally daybreak when Spitter finally found Screamer. She would have been finished earlier if he hadn’t decided to fall asleep on top of a cloud and made Witch go looking for him. When they all returned to the hospital, all four of them were hungry, tired and annoyed with each other. Screamer grumbled to himself in the early morning light, “Couldn’t have waited until later to wake me up, it’s not like I was sleeping or anything important.” Witch had been silent around Spitter and Screamer, most likely worried what fate would bring her for attacking them and walked silently a few feet behind them. They walked (or, in Screamer’s case hovered) to the hospital and entered. After checking in with the receptionist, they made their way down the halls until they came across the area where Smoker, Charger, Jockey, Boomer and Tank were in. The closest door on the left was Boomer’s. Hunter slowly opened the door and growled slightly so he could ‘see’ if Boomer was awake. Unsurprisingly, Boomer was indeed awake and smiled slightly at seeing Hunter. “Hunter, good to see you,” said Boomer. He yawned, “Hearing’s back to normal I assume?” Hunter nodded, “Yeah, it just fully got better yesterday.” Boomer smiled, “Good to hear. Now,” Boomer’s voice went quieter, “Off to see Smoker I assume?” “Yep, Spitter thinks that seeing all of us would get him to say something,” said Hunter. Boomer chuckled, “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t say anything to Spitter. You know how he’s less harsh when she’s around.” “Yeah, well, I’m sure everyone knows that the two of them like each other, but neither of them will admit it,” said Hunter. “With good reason,” Boomer said, “It’s best if none of us get too attached to one another. Any one of us could drop dead in a heartbeat. I think the only reason Smoker lets it slide with Tank and Witch is because Witch isn’t emotionally sound.” “Yeah, I was talking with her last night, she was all over the place,” agreed Hunter. Boomer chuckled again, “You can detect emotions if I’m not correct?” Hunter shrugged, “Sometimes, it’s easiest with Witch and non-infected.” Boomer nodded, “Indeed, now,” he moved himself out of the hospital bed he was sitting on, “Let’s go see out tall friend, shall we?” ************************************************************************************ Meanwhile, Spitter, Witch and Screamer were out visiting Charger, Tank and Jockey respectively while Hunter was getting Boomer. Spitter cautiously opened the door to Charger’s room and relaxed a little when she saw Charger smiling. “Spitter,” Charger said, still grinning, “I knew you wouldn’t be out for long.” Spitter smiled in return, “I’m surprised that I woke up before you.” Charger shook her head, “Nah, She wasn’t focused on you. She had her attention on Smoker, Jockey and Me.” she paused, “How are those two anyway?” Spitter sighed, “Well, Screamer’s out getting Jockey and I’m here to gather everyone to see Smoker. He apparently isn’t talking.” Charger nodded solemnly, “Yeah, I was quiet for a while too when I noticed all this,” she gestured to herself. Charger had a five long gash marks across her chest where Witch dealt her defeating blow and multiple, smaller cuts around her enlarged right foreleg. The right side of her jaw was no longer visible, most likely patched up by the doctors as with the multiple bandages that had surrounded Spitter’s mouth and neck (which were quickly burned away from her acid). Charger sighed, “Well, no point keeping them waiting any further.” She said as she got out of the hospital bed and stretched her wings, “I’ve been meaning to give Witch a piece of my mind.” Spitter walked up to her menacingly, “Look, I know she hurt us all really bad, but she had little to no control of herself. I’ve seen her already, she’s terrified of facing Tank and according to Hunter she nearly broke down again yesterday just thinking about it.” Charger stared at Spitter, and then nodded, “Yeah, I know. It’s just,” Charger stopped to find the right words, “Dealing with it all. You know everything these past few days have brought us. It’s peaceful here. No one is trying to kill us. But, then there’s Witch. Her migraines make her unpredictable. We need something to keep her calm when that happens. Wandering around or sitting somewhere just isn’t working.” Spitter nodded, “I’m sure we’ll figure out something.” *********************************************************************************** Tank stared at Witch, who in turn stared right back at him. The two stared at each other for a moment before Witch stared to speak. “I’m… sorry,” she said quietly. Tank chuckled, an odd sound coming from the giant, “You are forgiven Witch. You are forgiven.” Tank was already standing when Witch entered, giving her full view of the multiple cuts and bruises she inflicted on him. Surprisingly, about eighty present of them were either scarred over or healed completely. The only really visible scar was the slash mark over his pre-existing wound on the left side of his chest. The two looked at each other again, before they left the hospital room. The two infected never were ones for talking much. ********************************************************************************** Screamer’s expression changed from annoyed to honestly concerned when he entered Jockey’s room. The first thing that told him something was wrong was the utter absence of notice. Usually, where ever Jockey was there either should be a crazed laughter or the occasional cackle. Here there was dead silence. “Uh, Jockey,” said Screamer when he saw he little infected shivering on the hospital bed, “You feeling alright?” Screamer then heard something Jockey was muttering, “Their coming to take me away, ha, ha. Their coming to take me away, ho, ho, he, he, ha, ha…” Screamer froze, somewhere, in the damaged part of his mind that held onto the memories of pre-infection, remembered what to do if Jockey ever started talking like this. Faster than he could think, Screamer quickly unbuckled the straps on his (newly bought) straightjacket and shoved Jockey into it. Jokey, however, wasn’t feeling up to co-operating and shrieked and struggled against Screamer. “I’m sorry buddy, but it’s for your own good,” he said as he finished putting on the final strap. Screamer then looked at his own handiwork and smiled. It took skill to remove a straightjacket by yourself with nothing but you’re mouth and weeks of lack of food. Screamer then hovered over to Jockey and grabbed him in his forelegs and left the room, occasionally muttering something to Jockey in hopes of calming him down. *********************************************************************************** It was about ten minutes after Hunter, Screamer, Spitter and Witch had arrived at the hospital and already all eight of the infected were standing at the door to Smoker’s room. Slowly, Spitter opened the door and the other seven (in Jockey’s case, forcibly brought) walked into Smoker’s room. Spitter felt like she should have been surprised, but somehow she wasn’t when she saw that Smoker was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes on them. That was when Spitter noticed how tired he looked compared to the other seven infected. Sure, they had all spent days with no sleep in the past, but by now all of them had started to recover. Smoker, however, showed no signs of recovering. Smoker’s eyes stared at all of the infected, as if he was silently judging them. After he was finished, Smoker started to laugh. It was eerie to say the least with none of his coughing mixed into it. “Look at yourselves,” said Smoker, who had stopped laughing, “It’s been barley a week and already all of you have lost you’re edge.” He frowned, “I am disappointed in all of you.”