Author's note: disregard the previous author's note. This chapter is now complete!
-Scriber
================================
Two hours ago
Canterlot. The absolute zenith of culture and class in all of Equestria; an architectural amalgam of the rustic and chic, of modern and old. An eerie silence blanketed the city like an invisible fog – as the city slumbered, basked in slivers of muted moonlight obfuscated by the odd lingering cloud, not a sound could be heard. The usual creaks and chirps of late summer crickets was strangely absent from nature's subtle nightly symphony.
And yet, within the veil of the still darkness, something moved; several somethings, to be precise. Twitching, shuffling silhouettes stalked silently through the city, making nary a sound as they maneuvered through alleyways obscured by shadow. A stray cat, fur pitted with filth and grime, was unfortunate enough to meet its end at the hooves of a monstrosity; a sound not entirely unlike wet cloth being torn asunder just barely escaped a darkened passage in the space between two business, closed for the night. The orange tabby let out a final pained yowl before being silenced permanently. The sound wafted through the still air, falling dead on the ears of those who slumbered with open windows...save for one.
Not a half block away, a magenta-coloured earth pony filly with streaks of orange and gold in her mane stirred in her plush bedspread. The yowl had been just loud enough to gently jar her into consciousness. Breathing deeply as one does when one first becomes awake after hours of slumber, she blinked several times, bringing her vision into focus. A soft, yellow artificial light plugged into an adjacent wall cast warm, glowing hues across the room. The young pony sighed daintily, rolling over onto her side for a moment.
I simply cannot believe that it's happened again, she thought to herself. Another night of interrupted sleep. By Celestia's grace, this is growing tiresome. The filly allowed a few more moments to pass before sighing again, her mind and body reluctantly coming to terms with her undesired consciousness. Shifting her weight to her left, she rolled off of the rather luxurious, plush mattress and swung her back legs over the side, allowing them to dangle in midair. With a small hop, her hooves made contact with the padded, navy blue carpeting that spread out across her bedroom, forelegs quickly following suit.
Perhaps a glass of water will help. Given that her eyes were still adjusting to the low levels of light in her room, she cautiously started to walk toward the door leading out into the hallway -
CRASH!
The filly, startled at the sudden sound coming from outdoors, jumped nearly three feet into the air, letting out a surprised yelp as she did so. Her shoulders hunched up instinctively as she swung around to face the window at her rear, now fully awake and alert.
“What in Equestria was that?” she asked nopony in particular, still firmly rooted in place. After several deep breaths, her heart rate slowed to the point wherein she felt able to move again; cautiously, she began to stealthily slink over toward the window, curious to learn the cause of the loud sound. The magenta filly was rather short-statured; just a half inch or so over three feet in height, the top of the young one's head just barely met in the center of most ponies' chests. As such, she planted her forelegs on the mahogany windowsill and balanced on her back two legs, managing pulling her chin over the ledge.
The sprawling abode in which the filly resided shared land with several other houses in close proximity; though her family had the luxury of their own front and back yards, the nearest house – belonging to a rather wealthy notary and his wife – lay a mere fifteen feet away from the window. The first thing she noticed amiss were the garbage cans on the side of her neighbour's house – the tin canisters had been forcefully knocked over, bags and their contents strewn about haphazardly. “Perhaps some animals got into them?” she mused aloud. As she took in more and more of the scene, however, more and more appeared to be out of place. For one, the gates of the white picket fence which encompassed the perimeter of her neighbour's yard was wide open; upon closer inspection thanks to a squinting of eyes, she noticed that the left half of the gate had been ripped clean off of its hinges while the right just barely remained attached, splintered wood and warped metal clear signs of formidable strength. Her eyes traced a path of isolated destruction leading inward from the gates – trampled flowerbeds and upturned patches of wet earth were cast here and there at random. She glanced over at the trash cans a second time, and noted with some alarm that the tins themselves were not, as she had previously thought, merely toppled: no, the aluminum receptacles were pocked with deep dents and great gouges, as if somepony had mistakenly stumbled into them in the darkness and thrashed them violently in a fit of reactionary rage.
The filly started to turn back around to wake her parents – clearly, there was a prowler on the loose in the neighbourhood! The royal guard had to be notified! Before she could complete the motion, however, her ears perked up as the sounds of rustling and...grunting?...rose up to meet her. Now thankful that her window lay a good ten feet off of the ground, her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the landscape, trying to pinpoint the location of the disturbance. They finally landed upon an expertly trimmed series of bushes adorning the rear of her neighbour's house – they appeared to be shaking. The bush's sole occupant emerged, bursting forth from the foliage violently as branches snapped and leaves were torn away. Though the night's lack of light inherently obscured her view of the supposed prowler, she noted with some surprise that the ruffian was little more than a foal itself; judging from the figure's stature and shape, the magenta filly surmised that the intruder had to have been only a year or so older than herself, and was more than likely a female. She gasped softly as the figure's hooves got tangled up in several branches that had fallen to the ground, falling forward with a dull thud that was only barely audible, given the distance between them. She did hear, however, the enraged snorts and grunts that soon followed the unexpected trip, instinctively tensing up upon sensing the raw anger and fury that was clearly present in the figure's wordless litany of frustration.
As it would happen, the young pony was not the only one to notice the strange occurrences taking place just outside her neighbour's home. Muffled at first but quickly growing in volume, she heard a series of incessant yips that could only belong to the notary's pet dog, Scruffy. Though the interior of the house remained for the moment darkened, she could tell from the way the sharp, accentuated barks traveled through the air that the dog was no doubt situated just behind the pair of sliding glass doors that led to her neighbour's backyard. The filly let a small wave of relief wash over her upon this revelation; surely, the small dog's constant yipping and whining would alert the notary and his wife to the presence of the intruder. Relief quickly turned to horror, however, when the intruder reacted to this new development. Now that the figure had regained its balance, it snapped its head toward the new auditory addition to its environment and snarled viciously. Amid unrelenting canine yapping, the figure let out a dull roar and charged, careening headlong into the glass-paned doors. They shattered instantaneously upon impact, the sound not entirely unlike several dozen glass vases being dropped at the same time. Though it may indeed have been the young filly's overactive imagination filling in the gaps, she could have sworn that she heard the sounds of shards of glass tearing into flesh.
The dog let out a small, startled yip, a sound that mixed in with the crunch of broken glass being ground to a pulp underhoof. There was nothing for a moment, save for a few muted crashes.
Then, the screaming.
The magenta filly did not know that dogs could scream; she quickly gleaned this shocking truth as the figure undoubtedly set upon its tiny, noisy adversary. Her own mind again filled in the blanks in the absence of light, but she was silently grateful for the lack of a visual counterpart. A cacophonous series of pained yips and strained howls rang out clear, causing the young one to wince a bit. Pops, breaks, squishes and tears amounted to the only logical conclusion that the filly could draw upon – her neighbour's dog was in the process of being brutally ravaged. For the better part of a minute, the filly could do little more than listen in horror as the assault went on, finally culminating in a resounding screech which sent shivers up and down her spine. There was silence yet again for just a few moments; then, the lights came on. Through the blinds, she saw the silhouettes of the notary and his wife quickly shuffling about in their upstairs bedroom. She followed their path across the room as the silhouettes briefly disappeared from sight, the hallway lights also being turned on in their absence. The two made their way to the stairwell, she assumed, and flicked on the downstairs lights, illuminating most of the lower floor and revealing the shocking extent of the carnage that had already taken place.
Several of the windows on the lower floor were spattered with blood, great red streaks and lines adorning the transparent panes. The filly, taking in the scene through the stark cloud of shock which beset her, absentmindedly noticed the presence of fur and streaks of gore intertwined in several of the streaks. Her wide, unblinking eyes moved toward the shattered sliding glass doors; blood pooled in between the thousands upon thousands of glass shards which littered the floor. Just beyond the majority of the broken glass lay what remained of the neighbour's pet dog – reduced to little more than several piles of bulbous flesh and gore, the poor canine had quite literally been ripped apart. Her breath caught in her chest as waves of panic radiated outward, sending an unpleasant tingling sensation coursing up and down her extremities. A flash of movement to her left mercifully wrenched her eyes from the mutilated corpse. The notary, a tall (if somewhat gangly) middle-aged stallion, stood at the bottom of the stairwell, motioning frantically at his wife. He beckoned her with his forelegs to back away, turning his back on her as he did so and beginning to menacingly advance toward the depravity at the back of his kitchen. His wife, a rather plump mare with a green coat and cyan mane, stumbled a bit on her way back up the stairs, quickly reaching the top of the stairwell and stared unbelieving at what little remained of her precious pooch.
The notary began to shout angrily at the intruder; now that the lights were on in her neighbour's house, the magenta filly finally got a good look at her. She, too, was a filly, her ruddy white coat fettered with a multitude of nicks, scratches and cuts. Her muzzle was absolutely coated in blood, dark red drops cast in every direction as she twitched spasmodically. Broken and crushed shards of glass stuck out of her legs at random angles, black-red blood oozing from the wounds. The white filly regarded the advancing notary with an unreadable look on her face. Although she was not able to make out the exact words being shouted at the intruder, the magenta observer surmised that they were unkind and probably laden with profanity. The white filly stumbled a bit, and advanced toward her new foe.
“Oh, no,” she said quietly to herself – the notary was headed straight for her! Why didn't he run? With another guttural cry, the intruder charged at the notary, hitting him directly in his center of gravity with the top of her skull. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground with a thud, eyes wide with surprise. In an off-white blur of unimaginable ferocity, she was on him. As the notary screamed in pain and agony, the white filly tore into his abdomen, head bobbing up and down as she took out several hoof-sized hunks and flung them carelessly to the side in rapid succession. Several small fountains of blood spurted forth from the abdominal cavity, coating both attacker and victim alike in the hot, sticky liquid. The white filly opened her mouth wide, baring blood-smeared teeth and plunged her snout deep into the notary's stomach, biting and tearing the organs inside, gnashing them to a bloody pulp in her mouth. She tore out his intestines, gleaming coils of sausage-like fleshy rope being torn from his abdomen with unspeakable force. His wife had begun to scream in horror, and was unrelenting in her wails as the white filly greedily forced her snout into the notary's midsection; again and again she repeated the gruesome process, expelling clots of blood that had been lodged in her nostrils with a snort. After the intestines came the liver, a quivering, bulbous mass of dark red gore that the filly voraciously tore into, tearing chunks out of the organ and swallowing them without chewing. She dipped her snout into the dying notary's abdomen a final time, nearly three quarters of her blood-soaked head disappearing into his gut. A sickening crack signaled the death blow; she had bitten the stallion's spine clean in half, paralyzing him instantly. His eyes went dark as he breathed his final breath.
His wife, still screaming in terror, took off at a gallop down the stairs, nearly tripping again as she did so. The catatonic magenta filly watched her as she burst forth from the front door, shrieking at unimaginably high frequencies. The sound of the panic-stricken mare's vocal expulsions finally shook the filly from her horrified observance; she, too, broke out into a gallop and quickly made her way to her parent's bedroom door, not even bothering to knock as she rammed the door open. Her unicorn father and earth pony mother stirred, the former sitting up with a bolt as he was the lighter sleeper of the two.
“Honey, what's wrong? Wha...what time is it?” a sleepy stallion asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a hoof.
“Dad! It's Mr. Quill Stroke! He-he's...he's-” The young filly began to hyperventilate, short sharp breaths filling the room.
“Calm down, dear,” her mother replied, her speech slightly slurred. She sat up in bed as well, then swung her hooves over the side, making her way to the filly. “Take a couple of deep breaths. It's ok.” She placed a comforting foreleg over the side of the shaking young pony, drawing her close. The filly did her best to calm herself, to little avail; she was, however, able to get her breathing under control to the point where she was able to continue.
“Mr. Quill Stroke – he's dead! Somepony killed him and his dog! I saw it!” the filly shouted as she begun to sob. At that, the unicorn stallion rose to his hooves as well, his daughter's statement hitting him like a speeding train.
“What?! He's dead? Hon, are you sure about this?” he asked in a firm voice.
“Y-yeah! I woke up and I heard a noise outside, and I saw somepony in his back yard and then Scruffy started barking and...and then she crashed through the glass doors! And-”
“She?” her mother interrupted. “Who is 'she'?”
“The pony that killed him! She tore Scruffy apart and then killed Mr. Quill Stroke too! It was awful...oh Celestia, there was blood everywhere!”
“I'm going to go have a look,” the unicorn stallion said.
“Are you insane?!” his wife replied, regarding her husband incredulously. “If what Dewdrop is saying is true, then there's a killer out there!”
“Lemon Drop, we don't have time to argue. I am more than capable of looking after myself – I'll take a quick look outside, then I'll come back. Lock the doors after me and look after Dewdrop, ok?”
“But-” Suddenly, there came several loud banging sounds from downstairs. Somepony...or something...was knocking on their front door.
“Stay here.” the unicorn commanded, fixing a deadly serious gaze on his wife and daughter.
The unicorn quickly but quietly made his way downstairs, muffled footsteps masked by the constant pounding on the front door. Though obscured by the thick wooden door, the stallion instantly recognized the voice that came interspersed between the bangs – Regal Flair, the notary's wife. He trotted to the door with haste and unlocked it, just barely dodging the teary and hysteric blue mare that came crashing through the vestibule.
“Oh praise Celestia, thank you, Seeker! You're the first one who actually opened their door!” she sobbed, collapsing against his chest. He quickly reached up with a long foreleg and shut the door behind her; however, as the weeping mare pressed up against him shifted her weight, he nearly lost his balance as he fumbled to correct himself.
“Regal! What happened to you? My daughter, she said something about-”
“He's DEAD! My husband is DEAD!” she wailed, the timbre of her voice stinging the stallion's ears ever so slightly. “Some...some monster broke into our home and killed poor Scruffy! Quill Stroke tried to chase her out...Celestia's sake, she was just a kid! She tore Scruffy apart and then she did the same to my Quill Stroke!”
“C-calm down, Regal. I'm sure-”
“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! How in Equestria can you expect me to calm down?! I just saw my husband murdered, Seeker! Oh sweet Celestia, he's dead, he's dead, HE-” Against his better judgment, he slapped her. It was a light enough strike to not cause any actual damage, but the hoof across the face certainly snapped her out of her hysterics, albeit temporarily. She stared at him with widened eyes conveying a potent mixture of shock, anger, revulsion and grief.
“Look, Regal, I'm sorry I had to do that. If the murderer is still out there – and I assume that she is – then it might not be safe for us down here. Go upstairs, first door on the left. Lemon Drop and Dewdrop are inside. Lock the door-”
“Seeker? What's going on here?” Lemon Drop called from the top of the stairs. Having heard the panicked exchange between her husband and her neighbour, curiosity had gotten the best of her. Seeker twirled around and angrily said,
“Goddammit, Lemon Drop! I thought I told you to stay with Dewdrop! Take Regal Flair up with you, and for the love of Celestia, lock the goddamn door and don't open it for anypony. Do you hear me?!”
“O-of course, Seeker. Regal, if you would please follow me,” the earth pony mare meekly said, beckoning her sobbing neighbour to follow her. The two met at the top of the stairs and disappeared from sight, leaving the unicorn stallion alone downstairs.
Looking around the room, Seeker's eyes fell upon a small end table at the side of a couch. Flipping it over with his snout, he clutched a leg in his teeth and smashed it against the wall – once, twice, finally breaking it apart on the third swing. Using his magic, he levitated the broken table leg into the air, brandishing the makeshift club in front of him as he cautiously trotted over to a window on the adjacent wall. He pushed a curtain aside with a hoof and peered out into the darkness; the lights were on next door, and he noted grimly that there was indeed a decent amount of blood coating several of his neighbour's windows. Driven by the unstoppable urge to protect his family, he debated with himself internally for a moment. Given that he lived in a relatively upscale area of Canterlot, the royal guard did not necessarily make a habit of patrolling the streets that made up the neighbourhood. He knew that the closest royal guard station was roughly ten blocks away from his house, and he knew that if he hurried, he could make it there in a little over five minutes – that, however, meant leaving his wife, child and traumatized neighbour alone with a killer on the loose. Begrudgingly, he admitted that this option was probably the least feasible. Racking his brain, he decided that he would have to make his way across the street and wake up Star Gazer, a long-time friend of his. If Star Gazer could go to the station and report the crime in his stead, that meant that he would be able to stay there and protect his family and neighbour; this course of action appealed to him, and with a nod, it was settled.
Making certain not to create any unnecessary noises, the table-leg wielding unicorn stallion unlocked the front door and stepped into the cool night air. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for any signs of movement. Seeker allowed himself to quickly trot into his backyard, placing himself in front of Quill Stroke's kitchen window; it wasn't pretty. The mutilated corpses of his neighbour and what had formerly been known as a dog were strewn about the kitchen floor – it looked like the inside of a butcher's shop. From what he could see, the murderer was not present: he didn't like that, the obvious implication being that the murderer could be literally anywhere. Again moving as quickly and as silently as he could manage, he exited his yard and trotted up to Star Gazer's front door. The unicorn rang the bell urgently. He didn't want to knock just yet – knocking would make too much noise, possibly alerting the murderer to his presence outdoors. Ringing the bell several more times, he allowed himself to breathe a soft sigh of relief when a light came on upstairs. He glanced behind him, eyes still scanning for any movement. Just as he was about to turn his head back toward the door, he could have sworn that he saw something dart just beyond his field of vision: he positioned his body so he could get a better look in the direction where he thought it came from. He regarded the area for a few moments, but saw nothing. Seeker jumped a bit at the sound of a lock being turned behind him. The door slowly swung open – standing in the doorway was a very tired and somewhat annoyed Star Gazer, a robust dark-blue stallion unicorn with a jet-black mane.
“Ugh...Seeker? Do you know what time it is? ...why are you levitating a table leg?” he asked drearily, yawning slightly.
“Apologies, Star Gazer, but this is an emergency. Quill Stroke has been murdered,” he replied quickly. Star Gazer's eyes widened, then narrowed. He looked past Seeker across the street and saw the lights on in Quill Stroke's house.
“Murdered?! Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I got a look at it, and trust me – it isn't good. Poor Quill Stroke was torn to pieces,” he answered, lips tightening into a pained grimace. “Star Gazer, I need your help.”
“M-me? What can I do, Seeker?”
“I need you to go and alert the royal guard. You and I both know that they don't get out this way without good reason, and I can't risk leaving Lemon Drop, Dewdrop and Regal Flair alone. It's too dangerous.”
“Regal Flair? What is she doing in your house?”
“She was pounding on the door – what was I supposed to do, leave her outside? Look, we're running out of time, here. The killer could be anywhere. You and I both know that you're a faster runner than I am-”
“-quite. I always did come out on top when we were in track and field together back at University.”
“Ha, ha. There's always time for gloating later, Star Gazer. Right now, I need you. This neighbourhood needs you. Can you do this for me?”
“Look, Seeker, I can understand where you're coming from – however, if what you're saying is true, then how can you expect me to leave my family alone at a time like this? You said it yourself, it's too dangerous. What if the killer breaks into my house, too? What of Moon Dancer and the foals?”
“You raise a very good point, Star Gazer, but I...um, what are you looking at?” Star Gazer's eyes had casually drifted beyond Seeker's head and were affixed on something behind him. His mouth hung open, his voice failing to work for him as he was only able to motion weakly with a hoof. Seeker twirled on spot, saw what his friend was looking at, and managed a rare, “Oh, fuck.”
Quill Stroke was lumbering slowly toward them, moaning as he did so. His eyes burned red, lambent pinpricks glowing devilishly in the darkness. The few pulverized shreds of internal organs that had remained inside his abdominal cavity after his brutal murder were flopping out and trailing behind him. One of his back legs got tangled in a three foot long length of intestine; as he continued his unsteady gait, the motion tore the remaining bits of fleshy rope from his insides with a sickening squelching sound, the wet tendrils of gore plopping onto the ground. The infected steadily closed the distance between himself and the two unicorn stallions looking on in horror. Without warning, their horns began to simultaneously glow; their pupils dilated as the raw magical energy shot through their bodies, rendering them immobile. Seeker's makeshift club fell to the ground as he lost his telekinetic hold on the table leg. Now mere yards away from the infected stallion's first victims, the Seeker and Star Gazer heard a voice in their heads:
“This is a message to all magic-using ponies throughout Equestria. This is Princess Luna, goddess of the Moon. A terrible virus has begun to break out all across our fair kingdom...”
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Present
“Applejack, there's another one!” Pinkie Pie's shrill voice cried out, motioning to her right with her head as the two galloped.
“Consarnit, where do they all keep comin' from?!” Applejack asked rhetorically, adjusting her gallop to dodge yet another attacker. After saving the mother and her two foals from the infected pegasus, the two earth ponies had been slowly making their way to Sugarcube Corner. They had met little resistance at the beginning, but were now almost constantly accosted by an alarming amount of infected ponies that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Amidst the overturned carts and spilled produce, the two ponies dodged and weaved their way through the destroyed marketplace, constantly vigilant. Though they were mere blocks away from Sugarcube Corner, a substantial group of infected stood between them, blocking the immediate path ahead.
“Pinkie, ah don't know if we can go in through the front – not with all them infected in the way!” Pinkie Pie had seen the growing group of adversaries as well, and was already formulating an alternative route in her head. Looking left and right, her eyes finally fell upon the alleyway that she had envisioned.
“This way, AJ! Follow me!” the pink pony shouted over the din, suddenly breaking off to her right. Applejack followed suit, deftly jumping over a series of watermelons that littered the path. The alley that the two earth ponies darted into was narrow, no more than two yards wide. Garbage bins and various refuse adorned the left side of the alleyway, making the going that much more narrow in places. Applejack cursed silently as one of her back hooves caught a trash can and tipped it over, sending the metal bin crashing to the ground. The sound reverberated off of the walls in the enclosed space, amplifying the sound by several orders of magnitude. Within seconds, Pinkie Pie and Applejack reached a split in the alley; one path curved off to the left while the other sharply turned to the right.
“Which way do we-” Applejack began.
“C'mon, over here!” Pinkie interrupted, taking the path that wound to the left. As the sounds of the carnage going on in the marketplace began to fade with distance, Applejack asked,
“Pinkie, where're we goin'?”
“This path'll lead us to the back door at Sugarcube Corner. That way, none of those mean nasty zombie ponies will know we're in there!”
“Ah sure hope you're right, Pinkie Pie.”
“Left!”
“...no, ah said ah hope you're right.”
“Turn left!” Pinkie shouted, following her own advice. Applejack, who had been looking sideways at her companion, just barely had time to adjust her gallop – she had nearly crashed headfirst into a brick wall that signaled the end of that particular path in the alleyway.
“Heh...gotta pay more attention, ah suppose,” she said aloud. As the two ponies traversed the twisting back alleys behind Ponyville's shops, Applejack's mind drifted to what had happened no less than ten minutes prior. The confrontation with the infected pegasus played forward in her mind, flashes of the atrocity she had committed burned into her memory. Ah can't believe ah really killed somepony...she thought to herself. Ah'm...ah'm a murderer. Ah'm nothin' more than a no-good, filthy-
“It's not your fault, AJ,” Pinkie Pie said. Applejack blinked.
“Huh? What?”
“I know what you're thinking, and you did the right thing.”
“Pinkie, how in tarnation do you-”
“Because you look sad! And when one of my friends is sad, I get sad, too! And besides, I got a burny eyebrow when I looked at you just now.”
“Burny what, now?”
“Pinkie sense!” she replied, though her voice was decidedly lacking in its usual cheer. “When I get a burny eyebrow, it means that one of my friends is guilty about something. You shouldn't feel guilty, Applejack. You did what you had to – and besides, you saved that family!”
“Yeah, but you helped...”
“I distracted, AJ. You did all the work, trust me. Don't feel bad about it, ok? They're not ponies anymore. They're zombies!”
“...yeah, ah suppose yer right, Pinkie Pie.” Though there was conviction in her voice, Applejack still felt uneasy. It would definitely take some quality introspective contemplation for her to fully come to terms with what had happened, and she knew it. Unfortunately, the situation which herself and her pink friend found themselves in did now allow for any manner of introspection.
Pinkie Pie slowed to a trot. “We're here,” she said quietly, motioning to the lime green door just ahead of them. Indeed, this was the rear of Sugarcube Corner – the alley behind the store was slightly wider than the twisting path that had led them there. A lone dumpster sat to the left of the back door, its contents overflowing onto the cobblestone below.
“Sheesh, Pinkie Pie. When's the last time the trash ponies have been through to collect this stuff?” Applejack asked as she scrunched her nose at the smell of rotting garbage.
“You know the garbage ponies, Applejack. They're a pretty lazy bunch,” she said. The two advanced toward the door, minding the various refuse scattered about. Pinkie Pie produced a key and inserted it into the lock, turning it to the left with her mouth. The deadbolt slid out of the divet in the door frame with a click, and Pinkie pushed the door open with her muzzle. Though it was quite dark in the alley behind Sugarcube Corner, the interior appeared to be even darker; squinting, Pinkie Pie could just barely make out the light switch on the wall. She reached up with a foreleg to flick the switch, before Applejack blocked the motion, shaking her head slightly.
“Ah don't think that's such a good idea, Pinkie. We don't want nopony outside to know that we're in here.” Pinkie Pie nodded in agreement.
“Grab my tail, AJ. I think I can get us through without bumping into anything, but we need to be quiet.”
“Right, just lemme shut this here door,” Applejack said. She turned and closed the door as quietly as she could, fumbling around in the darkness until she found the deadbolt. She turned the lock, and the reinforced steel slid back into the divet with another click.
The orange earth pony bent and gently clutched a length of the pink pony's tail in her mouth, trying her best to move in time with her friend. In the deafening silence of the back room, the sounds of their hooves against the wood flooring seemed to echo ever so slightly before falling flat, the sound dying just as quickly as it came. Pinkie Pie felt the right side of her flank brush up against a cardboard box; she quickly corrected her course to make certain Applejack didn't do the same – or worse, knock the thing over. After a full minute of a nearly blind trek through Sugarcube Corner's back room, Pinkie felt her nose make contact with the door that led into the main area of the shop.
“Ok, here's the door,” she whispered, prompting Applejack to release her tail. She turned the knob with her mouth and pushed the door open, wincing slightly as the creaky hinge pins groaned as the door swung outward. The soft flow of several candles filled the room; regaining their vision was a welcome relief for the two earth ponies. As they trotted silently into the room, however, they noted a distinct lack of...well, anypony.
“Where'd you think they got to?” Applejack whispered, still keeping her voice level to a minimum.
“I dunno...maybe they're in the-” A sudden whimper, followed by several shushes met their ears. Craning her neck to the right, Applejack said,
“Ah think that came from the kitchen.” She took a few steps in that direction, tensing up instinctively. “Hello?” She raised her voice a tad, just loud enough for it to travel into the kitchen. “Anypony in there?” Several sighs of relief came from the darkened kitchen.
“Applejack? Is that you?” a voice belonging to a certain white unicorn rang out.
“Yeah, it's jus' me'n Pinkie, Rarity. What're y'all doin' back there?” The white unicorn, three young fillies in tow, emerged from the kitchen with reserved looks of abatement on their faces.
“Well, Sweetie Belle thought she heard something in the back room, and I didn't want to take any chances, so-” She was interrupted by a flying pink mass of fur which ran into her, embracing her in a tight squeeze.
“Oh, I'm so glad you're ok, Rarity! And the Crusaders, too! You kept them safe!”
“P-pinkie Pie...t-too tight!” Rarity managed, speaking with obvious strain.
“Oops! Sorry,” a bashful Pinkie Pie said, releasing her friend who promptly hunched over and drew several deep breaths.
“Applejack! Ah knew you'd make it back!” Apple Bloom cried, running up to her big sister and wrapping her forelegs around the orange mare's neck.
“Ah wouldn't leave my little sis' alone at a time like this,” she affirmed, returning the hug in earnest.
“W-what's it like out there, Pinkie Pie?” a clearly nervous Scootaloo inquired. “Did you guys see my mom anywhere...?” Applejack let go of Apple Bloom, shaking her head.
“Sorry, Scoot, but Pinkie and ah didn't see anypony flying around out there. Ah'm sure she's ok – ah mean, she's a pegasus after all, right? Soon as things started to get back, she prob'ly took off into the air, ah reckon,” she assured the tearful pegasus filly, placing a comforting hoof on the little one's head.
“But what of her other question, Applejack?” Rarity asked. “Just what is going on out there?” Applejack thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Not in front of the fillies, Rarity.” she said in a hushed tone. Resuming her normal speaking voice, she added, “Pinkie Pie, would'ya mind takin' them three into the kitchen an' makin' them somethin' ta eat? Ah'm sure that all this excitement has built up quite an appetite, am ah right, girls?”
“Yeah, I guess...” Scootaloo replied.
“Ah'm starved!” added Apple Bloom.
“I guess I should try to eat something,” Sweetie Belle answered.
“That the spirit!” Pinkie Pie said cheerfully. “C'mon, girls, follow me! I'll make you some of my super-duper special lemon bars!” The three fillies followed the bouncing pink pony (who had been temporarily been overcome with joy at the prospect of cheering up a few very frightened fillies) into the kitchen. Applejack waited for a moment, ensuring that the children were out of earshot. She then trotted wordlessly over to a table at the other side of the room, sitting down wearily. She took off her hat and ran a hoof through her mane, sighing slightly as she did so. Rarity followed, and sat down across from her.
“Applejack...you don't look so well. What happened?” Rarity asked. Her well-tuned attention to detail allowed her to read minute changes on her friend's face, and she didn't like what she saw. She sensed...grief. Regret. Perhaps a bit of shock.
“Ah...ah had to kill somepony out there,” Applejack spat, though the her flat tone of voice was devoid of anger. Rarity gasped, raising a white hoof to her mouth.
“Oh...oh goodness, Applejack. I'm so sorry.”
“Yeah, you'n me both, Rarity.” She briefly told her unicorn friend about the encounter with the infected pegasus, and how she and Pinkie had saved the cornered family.
Rarity sat in stunned silence for a moment, absorbing the new information.
“Ah'm a monster, Rarity,” Applejack lamented softly, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Ah'm no better than them 'infected' ponies runnin' around.” She cast her head downward, looking but not really looking at the table beneath her. A white hoof lifted her chin; Rarity's brilliant, dark blue eyes stared at her incredulously, as if she didn't believe what she had just heard.
“Now look here, Applejack. I will not allow any friend of mine to say that she is a monster, especially when she did what she did to save three lives.”
“But-”
“-no, no. No. Let me finish.” Applejack closed her jaw, tears now flowing freely from her green eyes. “Everypony has demons, Applejack – proverbial 'skeletons in the closet', if you will. I have them, Pinkie has them – why, I imagine even Princess Celestia has regrets, living as long as she has lived. The most important thing to remember, however, is this – you cannot allow your demons to define who you are. If everypony with skeletons in their closet carried them around and allowed them to burden themselves, what would that make them? I'll tell you: that would make them weak.” Applejack blinked; she had never heard her friend talk like this before. “Weakness...put it this way, Applejack. You simply do not have a weak bone in your body. You are one of the most honest, trustworthy, strong-willed friends a pony could ask for, and I think that I am rather privileged to call you my friend. Do you remember when you and I were caught in that nasty storm, and we stayed at Twilight's house for the evening? Do you remember how we bickered and argued the entire evening? You see, there is a difference between strong-willed and stubborn: you were strong-willed. I was the one who was being stubborn. When you accidentally pulled that tree through the window, you were the first among the two of us to apologize. I respect that, Applejack.
“Now, as far as what you had to do to save that poor family is concerned, allow me to ask you this – did you kill that pegasus with malice in your heart? Did you end that monstrosity's second, depraved life out of spite or hatred, or was it out of necessity? In your heart, I am absolutely certain that you know honest truth – you did what you did because it was necessary to do so. Had you not put that poor infected pony out of her misery, she may have hurt other ponies; she may have hurt you, or Pinkie Pie! From what I have seen thus far this evening, these 'infected' ponies are merely shells of their former selves...they are monsters, put simply. What you killed – though she may have looked like a pony in every way, shape and form – was not really a pony anymore. Ponies are good – if somewhat misguided – creatures at heart. Ponies don't kill other ponies just for the sake of killing, which is, unfortunately, what is occurring just outside the door.
“Applejack, I know that you can get through this. I know you can. Though it is a regrettable and painful aspect of the situation in which we now find ourselves, you may need to kill again.”
“...ah didn't wanna kill anypony. Ah don't wanna kill any more.”
“I know...I know, Applejack. This is a dark time for all of us, but the reality of the situation is this; amongst the five of us, you are the most physically capable. Pinkie Pie is...Pinkie Pie, your sister, mine and Scootaloo are just children, and myself...well, suffice it to say that I would only kill if it were absolutely necessary, to protect those whom I love. Now, let me ask you another question, Applejack. Do you love your sister?”
“Wha-whaddya mean, 'do ah love mah sister'? 'Course ah do! I love'er with all mah heart!”
“Do you love your friends? Do you love the ponies of this town?”
“Damn tootin', ah do,” the orange pony replied, wiping tears from her face.
“Are you willing to fight for those you love?”
“Absolutely!” she cried, accentuating her point by slamming a hoof down on the wooden table. Rarity was positively beaming.
“Now, that's the Applejack that I know!” She allowed her smile to fade a bit, before adding, “Look, Applejack. I know it wasn't easy, what you did out there. But you must remember this, above all else: they. Are. Not. Ponies. Not anymore. Although it may go against every fibre of your being, although it may go against your very nature, I ask you to prepare yourself for the likely inevitability that you will have to kill again. A great pony once said that extraordinary situations call for extraordinary measures; this is, indeed, such a situation.”
“...ah know it is, Rarity. T-thank you fer talkin' to me like that. Really, thank you. That's exactly what ah needed to hear, and ah know it came from the heart.” Rarity smiled again, nodding firmly.
“Think nothing of it, Applejack. After all, what are friends for? Now, if you should need anypony to talk to in moments like these, you know that I will always be there to listen.” The orange earth pony, no longer tearful and looking much better than she did before, re-affixed the brown Stetson hat to the top of her head.
“Why don't we see what Pinkie Pie's up to in the kitchen? Ah just realized that ah'm positively starvin',” Applejack suggested, vacating her seat at the table.
“Capital idea.”