Bad Future Crusaders

by TonicPlotter


Chapter 22

        “Alright, the trick is you have to hug yourself! Put your forelegs over your chest like an ‘X’!”
        Apple Bloom tried to comment but couldn’t get a word out. The scenery was shooting past too fast for Apple Bloom to focus on it and the sight of it made her leg move on its own, clinging desperately to the handle of the door as the train raced full-steam towards the Loamstone Valley.
        “Jump at an angle, like this!” said Scootaloo as she gestured out the door. She had her hoof hooked around the doorframe and was letting herself hang out of the opening as far as her foreleg would allow, waving back and forth without a care in the world like a leaf from a tree. “When you hit, land on your shoulder and go with the momentum! Careful not to roll onto your neck!”
        Pegasi.
        Scootaloo let herself fall backward into the train and playfully slapped Apple Bloom’s shoulder, making her cry out in surprise. “This here’s a real bad plan, Scoots!” she yelled over the rattle of the train, “Tell me again why we can’t wait for the train to stop?!”
        “Don’t worry! It’ll slow down before taking a bridge!” said Scootaloo excitedly, “Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?! It’s easy; I’ve done it tons of times! Only been hurt twice!”
        All of a sudden she was reminded of Pavel from back home. The griffon who could hardly speak a lick of English who was known throughout that town for all the remarkably dumb things he did in the name of having fun. He had turned stupid thrill-seeking into a form of art, and had undoubtedly broken every bone in his body at one point or another. Apple Bloom had found a kindred spirit in him in her youth; she had broken her leg, he had broken three of his, and they had spent almost an entire summer in the company of one another. They had been friends ever since.
        And heck Ah miss him…
        Like Scootaloo had said the train began to slow with a loud hiss of steam. “Do what I do!” she yelled as she took a few steps away from the door, “And don’t bite your tongue!” Apple Bloom watched closely as her friend ran full sprint and catapulted herself out the door with her wings pressed flat, front legs hugged against her chest, and rolled like a barrel as she hit the dirt.
        “Nothing ventured…” Apple Bloom shakily said with a loud swallow, “nothing gained!” She ran at the door and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the momentum of the train hurled her through the air faster than any earth pony was meant to move. She threw her legs over her chest and had enough time to list off several reasons why this was the worst thing she had ever done before the first impact. Her shoulder hit the ground and broke her death-grip on herself, letting her tumble and twirl across the ground like a ragdoll being thrown away by a spoiled foal. Each time she hit she felt pain and panic sear through every bone and muscle in her body before finally sliding to a stop in a fresh puddle of mud.
        The sound of Scootaloo’s childish laughter coming closer confirmed that she hadn’t killed herself and she spat loudly to get the taste and texture of mud from her mouth. She glared up at the overly amused expression on her friend’s face and scowled. “Ah hate the rain,” she said in a low hiss, making her friend burst out in laughter once more.
        “Hey, that was pretty good,” said Scootaloo as she offered a hoof to pull Apple Bloom up. “Fun, right?”
        “Time of my life,” she said sarcastically, grimacing at the dull pain from the impact as she stood with the help of her friend, “Now, unless there are any other ways you’d like to try and kill me, Ah think Ah’m gonna go and take a break.”
        Scootaloo squinted up at the faint hint of sunlight bleeding through the dark clouds that was just beginning to duck beneath the tree line. “It’s already pretty late. C’mon, let’s get out of the rain. It’s scheduled to stop tonight, so let’s bed down and get some sleep.”
        “Now you’re talking,” said Apple Bloom as she pulled her hat lower down her face to keep the water out of her eyes. “It’s gonna take me a while to get used to water coming down from the sky again.”
        Scootaloo led the way, walking with her head up and completely unmindful of the rain, with Apple Bloom trudging behind and pushing her sore body to keep up. They negotiated the rather steep decline into the valley in silence and headed for the dry area beneath the bridge that spanned above them. Other than the sound of the train clattering in the distance and the hiss of falling rain, the area was peacefully quiet. Scootaloo looked around at the dirt walls on either side and the wall of bushes ahead that made almost a complete circle around them. “Perfect,” she said, “That’ll keep the wind to a minimum.”
        Apple Bloom rested her back against the stone abutment with a sigh and removed her hat and vest; she was content to just sit for a while and let her body recover from its ordeal. Scootaloo had other plans. She busied herself with prying a few pieces of timber, hopefully ones that weren’t holding up the bridge above, and stacked them in a pile for a fire. She yanked some dry grass from beside a brace and threw it down, then started rooting through the gravel. Just as Apple Bloom had fished a match out of her vest, Scootaloo had found what she was looking for; she dug a dark rock from the gravel and struck it hard against one of the bolts left behind in the timber. She threw a wing over it and blew, and in a moment a small plume of smoke was rising as a small fire came to life.
        “You’re full of tricks, aren’t you?”
        Scootaloo stripped off her clothing and shook the rain out of her body just like a dog. “Nothing better than falling asleep by a fire,” she said, “and matches always get wet; I hate ‘em.”
        Apple Bloom slid herself closer to the fire and hung her clothing on a brace so it could dry. Scootaloo fell to her rear and propped herself up so she could watch her hind hooves wiggle near the flames. “You really like it out here?” Apple Bloom said curiously, “Living on your own, Ah mean?”
        Scootaloo took a deep breath through her nostrils as if to savor the scent of the outdoors. “Yeah,” she said appreciatively, “I’ve been out here too long; I can’t sit still in a town anymore. I mean, I bed down in towns in the winter, ponies’ll usually give me a place to stay in exchange for chores or odd jobs, but by the time the weather’s nice again I’m going crazy with cabin fever.”
        “And never the same place twice, right? You must’ve learned a lot.”
        “You bet,” said Scootaloo proudly before staring up at the bridge above. “Except I never learned what happened to everypony. Like I said, it’s like you all vanished. Sweetie Belle, Dashie and all her friends, everypony.” She looked across the fire at Apple Bloom with her face turning to worry, “I have to be honest. I can’t help but think we’re not going to find anything here.”
        “Now don’t you go and throw in the sponge, Scoot,” said Apple Bloom, “Ah mean, what were the odds of us bumping into each other after all this time?”
        “I guess. I’d just feel better if we had heard what Silver Spoon knew.”
        Apple Bloom spat on the ground at the mention of that name. “Trust me. We’re better off without anything from that mudsill. Ah’ll take Snails’ vague hint any day.”
         “You really trust him?”
        The sudden change in her friend’s tone caught Apple Bloom off-guard. “Ah don’t trust anyone,” she said, “‘Cept you, of course.”
        “I don’t,” said Scootaloo. “Look, I was young and I was scared, but I know what I saw. That night, I mean. I can’t believe he survived that. It’s rubbing me the wrong way, and I trust my gut.” Scootaloo waggled her hooves by the fire a minute longer and sighed. “Hey. What happened with you and Silver Spoon, anyways? She was always a jerk, but I never wished harm on her. Well, serious harm.”
        Apple Bloom chuckled happily. “Ah always had this fantasy of the three of us holding those two down and shaving ‘em bald. Shoulda done that; that would have been cutie-mark worthy for sure.” Scootaloo erupted with hearty laughter and Apple Bloom joined in. She could only keep it up for a moment until bad memories made her go quiet. “Course,” she said dryly, “Then Ah got to see what she grew into. A Coruja.”
        Confusion won over humor and Scootaloo’s grin faded. “…A what?” she said in confusion.
        “Like Ah said, the West started it. Caught us by surprise with superior numbers and took a good chunk of our country. Once we packed our plunder, though, we started giving them some real difficulty.” She pulled another cigarette from her vest and lit it with the campfire, taking a moment to savor the bitter flavor of the somewhat aged tobacco. “When we made things too nasty for their soldiers and began to push them back out, well, they tried a new trick.”
        “What did they do?”
        She sucked a quarter of the cigarette down in one pull. “They called ‘em Corujas. And Ah’ll never forget the first time Ah saw their handiwork.”
        Four Years Ago
        Fort Redstone, Eastern Sonhos Vale
        “It is in a train compartment, da? A zebra mother and daughter, a griffon, and spook are all riding in cabin. Mother feeds a soft-boiled egg to daughter from a silver spoon. Griffon says ‘Don’t you know eggs can spoil silver?’”
        The truck’s engine roared louder as it overtook a hill and Pavel went quiet, waiting for the sound to die down so he could continue his nonsensical foreign jokes. Apple Bloom only listened out of one ear. She was content to sit absentmindedly with her head cradled on Peppercorn’s shoulder, letting the warm breeze blow over her face and watching the smoke from her cigarette twirl into the distance behind them. Peppercorn had fallen asleep close to an hour ago; his head was down and his foreleg hung lifelessly over her, weakly holding his revolver over her belly. Like her, he used his own weapon rather than an issued piece: a Lucky-7 revolver given to him by his pa. Apple Bloom wasn’t fond of revolvers as they were too clumsy to load, but she liked his gun: it was the only one she had ever seen with a second barrel that could be loaded with a shotgun shell.
        “So eggs can spoil silver,” continued Pavel, struggling to accommodate his English words with his heavy accent, “and the spook says ‘who would have known!’ and noncha… noncha… calmly moves his silver cigarette case away from crotch.” He erupted with laughter to finish his joke while everyone else who had been listening looked amongst one another with confused expressions.
        The other griffon in the truck slapped his talons against the wooden bench. “Pavel!” he said, grinning with frustration, “That doesn’t make sense! Your jokes don’t make sense!”
        “It does if you grew in Grogary Gorki.”
        “But we didn’t!” laughed the griffon, “I don’t even know where that is!”
        Pavel pointed at the other griffon and smiled. “When you speak of such, you make me think of another joke. Two spooks, they walk into bar—”
        “No more!” said one of the zebras with a grin, “Please, no more!”
        The vehicle suddenly dragged to an abrupt stop and Apple Bloom nearly fell over. “Pep,” she said as she nudged her sleeping friend, “Wake up, something’s wrong.”
        He babbled incoherently and snapped the hammer of his pistol back on instinct. “What is it?”
        Sunflower leaned out the driver’s side window. “No sentry,” she said cautiously, “Where’s the gate sentries?”
        Apple Bloom leaned over the side of the truck’s box with her pistol ready to see for herself. Fort Redstone was just a small outpost well within the borders of the East and not likely to ever come under attack, but it still should have had sentries at the gate. There were no signs of an attack or battle, but it was far too quiet. There were no people in sight and the gate hadn’t even been closed.
        Their squad leader leaned out of the passenger-side window. “Griffons. Airborne and look out.”
        “Sir!” said Pavel and his partner, who both slung their rifles and tore into the air towards the fort.
        “The rest of you,” continued the leader, “Secure the fort. Peppercorn, Cole, Theo, man the rooftop guns. Bloom, Gideon, telegraph. Get a message out ASAP. Everyone else on perimeter, sweep the grounds.”
        The truck roared toward the fort as everyone in the back readied their weapons and aimed over the sides. They sped through the gate and turned sharply to drag to a stop in the middle of Redstone. Apple Bloom leaped over the side and ran for the telegraph station’s door, positioning herself by the side and waiting for Gideon to be ready. He nodded and she kicked the door open, both of them exploding through the threshold with weapons aimed.
        The station was abandoned. The desk was unmanned and scattered with a few papers and writing implements, as if the ones who worked there had suddenly gotten up and gone home. The only sound was the soft dotting of the telegraph station at the desk, beeping a request for Redstone to respond. The two nodded to each other and headed for the door at the side.
        Should be bunks.
        This time Gideon kicked the door open after Apple Bloom covered, and the two entered cautiously. As soon as she was through the door she saw it: the telegraph operator, an older zebra, was slumped in the corner of the room with his lifeless eyes half open and sitting in a small patch of blood. Two more lay in the beds, a zebra and griffon judging by the shapes, both completely covered with white sheets that each had a red stain centered over the body. Gideon ran to the dead operator while Apple Bloom cautiously approached the beds.
        “He’s still warm,” Gideon said fearfully, “Whoever did this ain’t f—”
        A thud of hooves and a guttural wretch cut off her friend and Apple Bloom turned, gun ready, to find Gideon collapsing into a heap and a spook from behind withdrawing a knife from his back. In the split second before she fired her weapon she was able to look the killer from head to hoof; he wasn’t dressed in their dull armor but wore a cloth bodysuit colored to match the sandy terrain with a thin belt wrapped around his waist that held several knives. He was even more emaciated than a normal spook: greasy hair hung down over a muzzle dotted with stubble and he grinned as he pulled his knife from Gideon, showing off several missing teeth. Apple Bloom didn’t give him the chance to even look up. She fired twice, hitting him dead center and dropping him before he even knew what hit him. She tried to see where he came from and there was movement from the bed; one of the ‘bodies’ pounced and threw her to the ground, pinning her weapon leg down and putting a blade to her throat.
        “Hoje é dia não para você, ruiva,” said the low feminine voice of a predator.
        “Wasn’t that great a day for your friend neither,” growled Apple Bloom under the weight of her would-be killer.
        “Yeah, we were supposed to jump at the same time,” said the spook in suddenly perfect English. “I waited; I wanted a meat shield.”
        Apple Bloom struggled to lift her weapon and the knife pressed harder against her neck. “You spooky barber’s cats ain’t much better to your own, huh?!”
        “He was a jerk anyways,” said the spook in a spiteful tone, “He’s here for offing his wife and foal. Maybe he had a reason for doing the old ball and chain, but there’s no excuse for killing foals. I was going to put a knife in his back after the job was done anyways. You saved me some explaining, red; I’ll let you have some last words. Any?”
        “Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, discreetly rolling her pistol around so the barrel rested on her fetlock and hopefully aimed up at the assailant, “Next time you have someone at your mercy, don’t run off at the mouth!” She hit the trigger and the bullet whizzed past her head so close she felt it pass by her ear. The spook on her back cried out in surprise and the knife raked up Apple Bloom’s cheek, slicing deep into her face but getting far enough away for her to fight. She struggled free and kicked her would-be killer away and leapt for her pistol ready to make this one pay—
        —and although she had a bead on her target, she couldn’t fire. It was no spook, but an Equestrian like herself. The gray earth pony was dressed in an outfit to match her ‘friend’s’ with the same belt of knives and three Eastland dog tags around her neck, but wore a familiar pair of bright blue glasses. The mare’s mouth hung open and Apple Bloom’s did the same; she had seen that face a long time ago. Try as she might she couldn’t shoot the pony with those familiar purple eyes and the pale mane she remembered seeing tied into a braid. The gray mare obviously recognized her too; she cautiously took a step back and then turned tail and ran, snatching Gideon’s dog tag as she bolted out the door. Finally the warm feeling of blood trickling down her chin and the sound of a few scattered gunshots outside snapped her out of her stupor and Apple Bloom chased the sound of hooves along the wall with her pistol, firing until she was dry but hitting nothing. With the familiar pony gone Apple Bloom shook her head and ran to the telegraph; calling for help had to come first.
        Present Day
        Apple Bloom held a hoof to the scar on her cheek. “Ah was lucky. The fort was full of ‘em, Scoot, waiting for us. They cleaned out the whole fort; stallions, mares, the infirmed, it didn’t matter. They beefed half of us until we took control and would have done a lot worse too if not for the griffons; Pavel got two of ‘em sneaking up on me as Ah ran outside to help the fight.
        “Who were they?” said Scootaloo, clearly unnerved from the story.
        “Criminals,” said Apple Bloom. She sighed and finished off her cigarette, tossed the butt into the fire, and failed to blow a smoke ring. “They weren’t soldiers, they were ponies yanked from prison and sent to kill as many of us as possible. Hand in enough of our dog tags, and they’d buy their sentence off and be set free. They didn’t do much to sway the war in the long run, but they caught a lot of us off guard at first.”
        Scootaloo closed her good eye and lowered her head. “I can’t believe she’d end up like that… She was always a jerk, but…”
        Apple Bloom nodded as her friend trailed off. “Make no mistake. Ah’ve done things that’ve cost me a lot of sleep, but nothing like them. They were monsters. Spoon included. Ah don’t know what she did to land in prison and Ah don’t care; If Ah’d have known back then what Ah know now, Ah’d have emptied my entire weapon and then Gideon’s into her, and then kicked her just to be sure.”
        Scootaloo said nothing back. She only laid on her belly and rested her head on her forelegs. The last of the sun’s rays had slipped out of sight and the only light to cut through the blanket of darkness all around them was from the flames that danced between her and Apple Bloom.
        Sorry, Scoot. Didn’t mean to be so harsh about it.
        Apple Bloom laid her head back and stared up at the bridge above. She drew her pistol and counted her rounds, four remaining, as she always did before sleeping. She nestled her head into a groove in the abutment and adjusted her head just right so her hat would serve as a pillow. From the looks of things, Scootaloo had already fallen asleep. Everything that pony had done since their reunion told Apple Bloom one thing: Scootaloo might be the same brash little filly in spirit, but she had grown up so much and knew how to look out for herself. She knew how to protect herself and, most importantly, she was living for herself. Holding onto that thought as she closed her eyes, Apple Bloom actually found herself smiling.
        Stay that way, Scootaloo. For my sake.