Chain REACTion. Chapter Two: Picking Up the Pieces.
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All was once again quiet in their small corner of the world. The first light of day brought with it a return to peace, and an end to the madness of the evening before. The storm had finally broke. Though when exactly, they couldn’t quite be sure. They had toiled all night in the eerie fluorescent glow of the basement’s workshop. Trying, planning, preparing. There was a great much to do still, but the chirping of morning birds had broken through the walls of earth that encompassed their work. Day had come at long last. The longest night of terror had finally past.
Michael Spechart and his daughter, Amber Sage, groggily slumped up the stairs and back into the shattered remains of their home. They had sealed themselves away in the basement after the events of the night before. The mental scars of that fateful encounter with two would be killers could not be removed. But the anguish and pain fell by the wayside to something far more powerful. The power of resolve, the will to carry on and fight back. The incredible relationship shared between a father and his daughter could not be shattered so easily. He was the protector, the mentor, and would make things right.
They shielded their eyes as the first substantial rays of morning shone right upon the basement door. Michael shuffled along, emerging from the basement completely exhausted from the night of work. Amber too was nearly falling over with exhaustion as she stumbled out of the doorway right behind him, making no attempt to race him up the stairs this time. Michael glanced down at the pony and decided to let her tired legs rest. He picked her up and as she subconsciously wrapped her hooves around him, mumbling.
“No Dad, no I’m not a kid... You don’t hafta....” she trailed off as she fell asleep right there in his arms. He made his way through the debris field that was his kitchen and into the equally trashed living room. There, like the eye of the storm, was their beloved couch. Incredibly, it had survived unharmed through the entire ordeal. He quickly rounded up a pillow and blanket, knowing full well he couldn’t bring her to her room. He gently lowered her onto the couch. She was so peaceful at rest. Her face showed no signs of the terror she had encountered only hours earlier. She shivered for a moment as he bundled her up in the quilt blanket. He kissed her on the forehead and moved away. She was a trooper, that’s for sure.
Michael glanced around the room. The table they had played so many terrible card games on lay broken on its side, as two of the legs had been smashed off. The contents of their shelves and coffee table scattered all about. He sighed and tried to rub the visible sleep deprivation from his heavy eyes.
“Ugh, what a goddamn mess this place is!” he cursed to himself, barely above a whisper. His eyes returned to the corpse still slumped at the base of the stairs. He quietly made his way to the body. There was nothing left to learn here. He grabbed the shoes of the corpse and dragged the rigid cadaver to the door. He decided the best course of action was to call the police now, before the questions became too abrasive. Being a technician in the applied sciences division of American Motors had its perks. One of them was the cops, who were almost entirely corporately funded, didn’t ask questions of the employees. He had once or twice weighed the ethics and morality of a de facto corporate police force, but for now at least, he was very much thankful for them. He pulled out his slate and hit the emergency speed-dial icon on his home screen.
“Yes this is Technician Michael Spechart, I need law enforcement to my house immediately, there’s been an attack on my family and I.... Yes... Yes... No, we’re safe now... Yes, there are weapons in the home. Ok, thank you.” He disconnected the call, and let out another sigh.
He looked out onto his desolate street, the storm had battered the already depressed place. Debris, more so than usual, lay strewn about. Several tiles from their roof were spread out about the lawn. One of the abandoned homes nearby had a fresh tree through its front porch. He pinched the bridge of his nose: more work to do if they were ever going to revitalize this neighborhood. Amber could really use some friends her age for a change. He turned his gaze back to his disheveled home. It would be awhile before the cops showed up anyways, they never came out this far anymore unless someone was dead or dying.
Stepping back into the living room, he made his way back to the kitchen. His mind was now focused on some liquid reinforcements. Amazingly enough, his beloved Keurig Business-Pro brewer was still up and running. He could only speculate what may have transpired had his access to the world’s most important liquid commodity was abruptly cut off. He thanked the gods under his breath as he put in a fresh ‘K+Cup’ of the strongest brew he had. Kept behind lock and stow for ‘emergencies only.’ (God help them if Amber had gotten her hooves on this high octane jump starter. It would redefine the old phrase ‘bouncing off the walls.’) He let a slightly amused smile slip past his hardened facade as the enticing aroma of coffee entered his nostrils. If there was ever a morning he needed a good cup of coffee, today was it.
Michael once again, as quiet as he could, made his way back to the living room, and his couch. There, Amber Sage slept, her diaphragm slowly and gently rising. He sat down next to her. Just sitting, staring at nothing in particular. He absentmindedly stroked his daughter’s mane as she slightly stirred, but only for a moment before settling back in. He knew he could never let what transpired happen again. This was their home, and no matter how desolate the place was becoming around it, they would not abandon it so easily.
Sure, time and time again, his coworkers and employers chided his decision to stay at the home long after it was deemed unsafe to be there. American Motors provided housing for all of its employees in the inner-sanctum of the city after all. The overwhelming majority of the employee base happily accepted this offer. There were only a handful of safe suburbs left at this point. The prospect of living in the near perfect, heavily protected, planned city was simply too enticing in this bleak modern era. Despite the alluring offer, Michael would not recant on his decision to protect the home he had raised Amber in.
He believed in this place still, all it needed was a little time and money, and it could shine again. The marauders could be stopped, or at the very least heavily suppressed. He continued to sit there, slumped back, one hand clasped around his mug, the other still absentmindedly stroking Amber’s mane. His mind slowly, but surely began to clear out. All the jumbled mess of thoughts and ideas from the past twelve hours were at last starting to file themselves away. For the briefest of moments, he was at peace again.
The moments crept by, and he periodically took a sip from his dark roast coffee. Savoring its flavor, he was content in that moment to just sit there, not doing anything. He closed his eyes. The sudden banging on the front door violently intruded his moment of peace. Amber jumped awake, nearly launching herself from the couch. He quickly put a hand on her back to calm her.
“DETROIT POLICE! MR. SPECHART PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” came a booming voice from the door. He could hear more footsteps moving near. He calmly replied.
“This is Michael Spechart, I’m coming to the door, I am unarmed!” he shouted back to them. The police made no attempt to force their way in. Michael sprung up and was at the door in a moment. Amber hid under the covers, her eyes peering out as her ears moved the blanket around. He took a deep breath and opened the door. There, waiting on his porch, were no fewer than ten heavily armed special response officers, including a couple burly looking unicorns. All armed to the teeth. He looked behind them and noticed two SmartCop drones hovering overhead in a lazy loiter pattern. The equally well armed response vehicles they drove were nearly stacked on top of each other. Red and blue LED lighting flashing in a blinding display.
“Mr. Spechart? Is everything alright? What happened?” The senior most officer on the response detail asked him, glancing over Michael’s shoulder.
“Perhaps you should come in, there was a break in last night, I had to defend myself and my daughter...” he trailed off. The officers began to enter the premises. Amber nearly yelped in surprise as the mass of police began to swarm. Several of them noticed her but paid her no attention as they proceeded to clear the house. Michael followed them in. The officers immediately noticed the G36 rifle propped up next to the couch. The supervisor looked at Michael.
“Sir, is this your firearm? Otherwise we will have to confiscate it.” Michael simply waved his hand trying to relax them.
“No, this is my personal rifle. It is registered to me and everything checks out.” He glanced up towards the stairs. “You will find there is another body in my daughter’s room. He broke through the window up there and I had little choice but to dispatch him.”
The officer did not look at all surprised by this extra information. He simply put a hand on Michael’s shoulder.
“You did what you had to sir, I understand full well. We know this was all in self defense, no questions asked. We just need to investigate the scene and our clean up crew will be along shortly to remove the mess. I really do appreciate your cooperation. Corporate personally requested I be on this detail.” He weakly smiled.
“Thanks for understanding... oh. What was your name, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?” Michael asked.
“The name is Supervisor Carson, I am the super for all of District Fourteen. It’s a pleasure serving you, though I have to add, you are one of the last residents out this way. Regardless, we’ll always be there when you call, I can promise you.” Supervisor Carson added in an authoritative tone. Michael simply smiled in return and offered him a handshake.
The police worked with due diligence, quickly taking in an inventory of the crime scene. It didn’t take long for the crime squad to arrive to haul the two corpses away. Very few questions were asked of either Amber or Michael. The few they did ask were simply to confirm their story. Amber for her part, despite the trauma of the event, did not falter as she answered every question the crime squad requested of her. Within an hour of their arrival, the large response from law enforcement had mostly dissipated. The last person on the scene was none other than Supervisor Carson, who had a warm chat with the two of them. However, a desperate call from dispatch requesting his presence to a far more grievous crime on the other side of his district beckoned him. He left with a brisk goodbye, and drove off, his response truck roaring as he sped away.
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Amber was now awake again, she shuffled around the debris field that was formerly the living room, picking up small items and examining them in her hooves. She saw all sorts of things that had either been forgotten about, or didn’t even know they had. She reasoned to herself this must be one of the perks of having their home broken into. It was a pretty lousy compromise she had to admit to herself. What caught her attention, however, was the contents of a large box that had been splayed out across the floor. She trotted closer, and began to examine the contents of the box.
They were papers, newspaper scrapings, and other odds and ends. Many of them looked quite dated at this point. Some of the headlines from the clippings immediately began to jump out her. What she saw was almost alarming. MAJOR EMERGENCY DECLARED AT CERN, was the first headline she saw. She looked at the date, it was from the Los Angeles Times, published October 19th, 2021. The date seemed familiar, but she wasn’t quite remembering. She sifted through the pile again. This time she pulled a clipping from the Detroit Free Press, dated October 26th, 2021. The headline simply read CIVIL UNREST CONTINUES AMIDST GLOBAL PORTAL EVENTS.
She had no idea what to think of it. The insatiable quest for knowledge kept her perusing the pile further. Her hooves found another interesting clipping, again, with a jarring headline meant to grab the readers attention. What it said however truly stunned her. It was dated November 1st, 2021. The paper was again the Detroit Free Press. The headline read, FIRST CONTACT MADE! And was perhaps the largest headline she had seen yet from the clippings. She had become completely immersed in the plethora information as Michael walked up behind her.
“Wha'cha looking at there Amber?” he casually asked, suddenly becoming very aware of the contents she was skimming over. Amber nearly jumped out of her fur as he snuck up on her. She looked up and over behind her, seeing him towering there.
“Aw c’mon dad! Don’t scare me like that!” She tried to push him back with her wings, it was a futile effort as he swayed, but ultimately recovered. “I just, uh, found this box of stuff and was just uh, picking it up! Yea, just picking it up!” she concluded with a huge smile on her face.
He could have sworn she had a halo over her head for a second there with the look she was trying to pull off. He just shook his head and sat down on the floor next to her. He started to go over the contents of the box as well. As he saw some of the headlines and image clippings, a world of emotions suddenly overwhelmed him. Images bombarded him from those fateful days ,nearly taking the breath right out of his throat. Amber looked up and noticed the suddenly very solemn expression on his face. She poked him in the side with a hoof.
“Uh Dad, are you OK? Dad?” she questioned as she looked at him with very real concern. Michael suddenly snapped back to the world.
“Oh, sorry hun, I just.... I just haven’t looked at this stuff in a long time,” he mumbled. He looked down at her and rubbed her mane again.
“I really should tell you about how I became your dad, I know you never really asked, but you have a right know what happened all those years ago.” Her expression changed to one of complete uncertainty, with a hint of wonderment in her stare.
“Actually Dad, I would like to know,” she declared as she snuggled up closer to her old man. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he picked up another clipping, from the Washington Times, dated January 28th, 2022. US DECLARES ITSELF SANCTUARY NATION FOR ‘PONIES.’ It was the next clipping that suddenly grabbed all his attention though, a USA TODAY article, dated April 19th, 2026, with the massive headline. CATASTROPHE IN DETROIT. He closed his eyes as the memories rushed back to him.
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April 18th, 2026. Detroit.
He wasn’t sure if it was the hoard of people and the occasional pony leaving the office, or the deafening alarms blaring in his ear that hinted that something may very well be wrong. Michael looked up and gazed at the hurried group of fellow employees scrambling to get to the exits. He slowly looked around more, the office had been completely abandoned. Papers and other items were strewn about as people had gotten up without a moment’s hesitation.
“C’mon Mike, we gotta get out of here man! What are you still doing sitting there!” a voice came from behind him. Michael slowly spun around in his seat and just stared at his friend, Will, who was waiting for a good reason why he wasn’t evacuating either. Will was becoming increasingly frustrated.
“What’s the rush, Will? The stairs and elevator are already clogged, I’m content to just sit here and wait,” he replied coolly. Will’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at this statement.
“Whatever man, if you want to die here, fine. Be that way, but I’m getting the hell out of here!” Will shakily replied and scrambled for the steps, still clogged with panicked people. He took one last glance at Michael, who was still laid back in his chair. Casually shutting down his computer. He finally stood up from his desk and after taking a moment to stretch, wandered over to the window.
Outside, he could immediately see the dots of people and some ponies fleeing the area he was in. The red and blue flashes of the lights of emergency vehicles were all around the area around the base of his building, and the other ones around it. He began to take in the entire surrounding. That’s when a bright flash diverted all his attention. He looked straight up, and saw a particularly nasty funnel cloud starting to form. It was different from any he had seen before. Flashes of constant lightning shot out from the core of the funnel. This was unlike any tornado he had seen before. Then he thought, maybe this isn't a tornado at all?
It was at this point the strange electrical anomalies going on around the rapidly circling clouds began to intensify. And with it, all the electrical components on his floor began to malfunction. First, the ceiling lighting began to overheat and cook itself off. One by one, the fluorescent bulbs began to blow out, sparks raining onto the work surfaces below, rapidly dissipating. He looked at his slate as the screen began to flicker on and off. The icons and words began to scramble themselves unexpectedly. Even his watch, a steadfast companion of his, was going haywire, the hands spinning around in all directions. The roar outside was becoming deafening, even through the thick windows of his office.
Right as everything was getting to the point of total insanity, as all of his electrical items began to fail. Suddenly, the wind stopped, the clouds ceased their powerful churn, all of his electronics went back to normal. That is when the mental warnings burst into a frenzy. Now he was going into flight mode. He grabbed his bag, slung it around his back, and made a break for the stairs. They had long since emptied out as the masses of other employees had made their escape. There was no time to lose. He dashed down the stairs as fast as he could. His brisk pace was suddenly interrupted as the entire stairwell began to shake violently. He nearly lost his balance as the shaking intensified. The lights in the stairwell began to flash rapidly. He hurdled himself down the stairs in an attempt to get away.
“Why did I try to play this off as nothing!” he cursed as he threw himself down another column of stairs. Not much further to go. The shaking was still going on. Finally, after what had to be a new building record for making it down twenty flights of stairs, he was on the ground floor. He was in an all out sprint now as the various art pieces and other display items in the lobby level began falling. Lights burst around him, windows shattered. This was no time to stop. With one final mad dash, he blasted through one of the partially cracked automatic doors and was out on the street.
He decided to take a brief second to get a sense of his surroundings. He spun around, only to see the massive vortex begin to descend from upon high. Bursts of lightning ripping out from all around it as the shaking ground again threatened to throw him off his feet. He once again burst into a sprint as he rushed for the parking garage several blocks away where he always parked. He had to get to his car and call his wife. She should be home by now. He didn’t stop running until he was huffing and puffing next to his Subaru. He slid into the seat and let out a heavy sigh, trying to catch his breath.
He glanced down at his phone again, and saw he had a new message. He quickly slid the tab open and read it. It was from his wife, Jennifer. Mike, I have to go downtown to file some paperwork for the baby, don’t worry I’ll be home by the time you get there. xo. He dropped the phone as he blasted back out of the car and onto the deck of the garage. His eyes widened at the realization of where the funnel was happening.
“Oh dear God, please no.” he muttered to himself. As the funnel became a blinding wall of light. It then dawned on him entirely what this was. It was another portal storm. He shielded his eyes from the intense light. The shaking suddenly came to a stop. The world slowed down, as a gravity wave began to form around the base of the event. Without warning, the light wall exploded, and an earth shattering boom blasted out from it in every direction. Michael leapt back into his car and shielded his ears as the shock wave struck. It blasted out the windows on his car, and nearly everything else around him. He laid there for what seemed like hours until he thought it was safe enough to proceed. Only then did he finally emerge from his car.
What greeted him was the sight of complete destruction. Much of the buildings in the downtown area had almost all of their windows blown out. The sounds of car alarms going off, people screaming, and utter confusion created a symphony of madness. His eyes were still adjusting from the bright light of the portal. As he finally regained his sight, he ran back to the edge of the parking garage. The massive wall of dust and smoke that covered his sight of the portal obscured his vision. He wasted no more time. Mumbling almost incoherently to himself, he scrambled back down the garage’s stairs and onto the street. He rocketed his way through the confusion that had completely taken over the city streets. As he raced back towards the buildings for the city municipal departments. His pace lessened as he hit a wall of choking dust. He slowed to a brisk walk as he continued forward, it was far too dangerous to race ahead, and even with all the uncertainty, this much logic screamed in his mind.
The smoke and dust that crippled his vision began to clear at last, and before him was a sight beyond comprehension. He tried to form words in his throat, but nothing came out. Clenching his hands into fists, and then releasing them again, he stumbled up to a place where the road suddenly ceased. There before him, was a massive, gaping crater. Nearly perfectly circular, and reaching deep into the earth. Michael dropped to his knees.
“No, no God, please no.” He fumbled into his pocket and whipped out his slate, mashing the speed dial icon as he went to call Jenn. The call began to ring, but suddenly and abruptly stopped. A familiar tone suddenly started and a generic voice began to play. We’re sorry, the number you are trying to reach is experiencing technical difficulties. Please try again later. The call disconnected. Without wasting another second he tried to call her again, only to get the same result. He tried a third time. Again, to no effect. He quickly shifted gears, and tried dialing the house. After agonizing seconds of waiting, he suddenly heard her voice, and was about to say something, when he realized it was the voicemail. He dropped the phone. His hands trembling. He looked back at the smoldering, hemi-spherical crater before him. A tense pain building throughout his body. Shaking with rage, he finally stood up. He tried to form some kind of coherent response, it was just not happening though. He could feel it, the rage, the pain, the confusion the sorrow, it finally took hold of his vocal chords.
“GODDAMNIT ALL!” he screamed as loud as he could. He repeated the words several times, sputtering into an incoherent mumble towards the end. He didn’t know what else to do. He knew where she was supposed to be at that moment, and that place had completely vanished. He had heard about the portal events before, the catastrophic damage they would cause. Sometimes they would leave visitors, other times they took everything. He was now completely shell shocked by what he had just experienced. He began to stumble backwards as the sounds of the chaos around him faded from his mind. A police officer rushed up to him, trying to ask him questions if he was ok, only to speed off as someone else cried for help.
He did not know how long it went on like that, but he found himself shambling along the edge of the damage, looking for something, anything. Any kind of sign it was going to be alright. He periodically glanced at his phone, waiting for a call from Jenn. Maybe she just got caught up in the confusion? Or maybe the cell lines are jammed? He tried to reason with himself. It then dawned on him, his wife’s car could be located via phone. He once again pulled his slate out, and scrambled through the mess of apps to find the one pertaining to her car. When he finally pulled it up, he waited anxiously for it get a signal and acquire the cars location. After a minute of waiting, the app finally responded. Car not found, please try again. He clenched the phone tightly in his hand and nearly smashed it on the ground, before slipping it into his pocket.
Michael sat down on the steps to a building, and tears began to drift solemnly down his cheeks. They dripped onto the pavement, leaving tiny stains where the dust from the event had settled. He was still right on the edge of the crater. The groans of buildings suddenly split into halves reminding him this place was not safe in the least. He was losing the will to go on though. The realization of what likely happened to his wife, and his still unborn child was beginning to wrack his brain with abstract grief. They were the perfect team, and were about to complete the puzzle with a child of their own. They both worked great jobs, and both were proud homeowners now in one of the best revitalized neighborhoods in Detroit. This couldn’t happen to them. He sat there, weeping, wrought with emotion for the loss he had just suffered. This was his darkest hour. How was he supposed to go on from here? How could he live without the most important person in his life, and to know he would never meet their child. He continued to zone out there, tears soaking his clothes, as he leaned back and just tried to shut down.
“Sir, excuse me sir! You have to get out of here! This building is about to collapse!” an urgent voice, and a tugging at his shirt snapped him back to the present. He looked at the sight before him: a firefighter, was trying to get him out of there. Michael initially tried to bat the firefighter’s hands away, when suddenly, something came over him. Something powerful. He stood up, the grief and despair weighing heavily in his mind, but something else was now present too, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. The firefighter looked up at the building, as it groaned with a noise unlike any they had heard before. It was straining to stay upright, as nearly a third of the building had vanished into the portal. The floor it sat on was beginning to give way to incredible strain being asked of it. The firefighter wasted no more time, deciding it was time go. He screamed back at Michael to get moving.
Michael’s legs began to carry him, he stayed close to the buildings however. And as he began to move away, something very distinct caught his ear. A noise, he stopped all of a sudden. He walked towards the open doors of the damaged structure. The noise became louder. It became increasingly distinct. It was crying, but it seemed so light. It was the cries of a child. He rushed into the building, clearing his mind even if it was just for a second. The building shuddered and trembled around him, the loud groan of a titan about to give its last breath was overwhelming. He had precious little time. He raced through the first floor, listening for the cries. They were becoming louder now. He was getting close. He finally entered the room, and it seemed only a half of it was there. The other wall was completely gone, instead, he looked out onto the crater. The building again shuddered and began to buckle. He frantically looked down, when he saw a nook in the corner. There he saw something trembling. He knew it was the source of the sound. He raced towards the nook, nearly falling out of the building, and grabbed the bundle of blankets. The mound of blankets began to thrash.
“Shh, shh, it’s ok, it’s alright...” he soothed. “I got you, shh,” he again quietly whispered. The trashing stopped. The building was now beginning to creak and moan with greater intensity. The shaking started up again. He had to leave right now. Michael blasted through doors as the building began to collapse. He held the blanket with the child in it like a football as he vaulted towards the door. In an insane sprint for life, he made one massive final push.
“Hell no, we are not dying here! Not you kid, today is not your day!” he yelled above the roar of the buckling building as he saw the entrance come up. As the ceiling began to give way he dove out of the front door. Baby still clasped firmly in his grasp. He was once again in an all out mad dash, with his precious cargo on board, he had a reason to live. He didn’t know how long he ran, but by the time he stopped, he was nearly at his car. He finally stopped to catch his breath. His tunnel vision and hearing began to fade, and the first thing his ears picked back up on was his crying cargo. He was suddenly reminded of the baby on board. It was once again sobbing below in the blanket. He sat down. using the concrete wall for support. The baby was still wrapped up firmly. He slowly began to unwrap the blankets, when a small yellow obtrusion stuck out from the blankets.
“What the hell?” he mumbled to himself. With another roll of the tightly wrapped blanket, a pair of huge, golden irises shot back at him. They were trembling with fear. He pushed the blanket off, to reveal the tiny head of a filly. She was beautiful, she was a pegasus, and in all likelihood, she was alone. She was still trembling as he stared at her inhumanly large eyes.
“Shhh, it’s alright little one, you’re ok.” he again whispered to the small, yellow pony. He clutched her tightly in his arms as she trembled. He looked down and carefully began to stroke her mane. She was definitely not an infant, perhaps a toddler. He wasn’t very good with pony ages, having only a couple pony coworkers from the early portal events. He continued to cradle the filly, gently rocking back and forth. He looked back down at her, she was no longer trembling, but tears continued to well up in her eyes.
“What’s your name, little one?” he asked in as fatherly a tone as he could. She was truly one of the most precious things he had ever seen in his life. All of the pain and suffering from mere moments earlier began to fade as an overwhelming urge to protect this child surged to the forefront of his being. He did not care what species she was, he knew this was what he had to do. She finally, began to mumble something out. He lifted her muzzle up by her chin, she gazed up at him, seeing only compassion in his face.
“Uh ummm, my name is A-amber. A-amber S-a-age...” she mumbled barely above a whisper. She looked away, trying to focus on anything else. Only to have her attention diverted back to him, as he smiled warmly at the filly.
“That’s a beautiful name, Amber Sage,” he replied in a soothing tone. “Where are your parents, Amber?” He knew that was going to be a difficult question for to answer, but he had to try anyways. She began to tear up heavily, before suddenly bursting into tears.
“I d-d-don’t know!” she wailed. She was completely overwhelmed, the poor filly had suffered so much. Michael wasted no time as he lifted her up and hugged the filly tightly. Wrapping himself around her, trying to protect her. She squeezed back as hard as she could, embracing the man trying to protect her.
“I’m so sorry Amber!” he consoled the filly. He tried to think about what to do now, as he listened to the young pony weep into his shoulder. Where could he even take the filly? The hospitals were likely overwhelmed, as were the police. This was no place, nor the time, to simply dump the poor child onto someone else. He knew right away what he had to do. He had the resolve he needed now, he was going to save Amber Sage. Michael stood back up, the pony still resting in his arms.
“Amber, I’m taking you home with me. I won’t abandon you.” he whispered to her. She did not object, only held on tightly as he walked towards his damaged Subaru. He sat down in the drivers seat, and with his free hand, wrapped the blanket around Amber Sage, and started up the car. He was not going to let her go until they were safely away from this place. He slowly exited the parking garage, and navigated himself through the carnage and headed home. As he drove away, the constant rhythm of the pony’s breathing gave him new found resolve. Out of tragedy, there will be good. He would make sure of that.
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“Dad, daaad, dad?” Amber Sage kept nudging Michael in his ribs, he was clearly lost in thought, tears starting to stream down his face. “C’mon dad, are you ok?” she pleaded. He snapped back to the present. The mess of his living room coming back into view, and there at his side was his daughter.
“Ah, oh, I’m sorry Amber. I just kind of got lost there in the memories.” he said bleakly. He stood up and started to stretch again. Looking at the debris field.
“I guess we better get back to work, huh?” He looked at the pony. She was already starting to move back around the living room, surveying the damage again.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes at least!” she said with an exacerbated sigh. She began to move the clippings back into the box as he leaned down to help.
“Let’s get the living room finished up, and I’ll make us breakfast. Sound good?” he chirpped. Amber gave him a strange, almost incredulous look.
“Uh dad, it’s 3PM already...” she trailed off. He just shrugged and kept cleaning. They had a lot to do still.
“Don’t care, I still want pancakes, and you know I love to make pancakes for us!” he stated with a warm smile. She again just rolled her eyes and shrugged as best a pony could.
“Whatever dad, you’re still crazy,” she quipped with a smirk. They both went back to cleaning. Just maybe, things would be ok.