//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Hitting the Highway // Story: Forgotten in Manehattan // by Locomotion //------------------------------// Many lives had been lost to the collapse of the two walkways, and it took several hours to extricate the survivors from their remains. Several of the accident victims were so badly shaken and injured that it would take years of counselling and physical rehabilitation to help them recover; but for some, the inside of a hospital ward or indeed the lobby of the mall itself was the last thing they would ever see. Indeed, such was the stress of the rescue operation that even the rescue workers themselves needed counselling, and by the time their gruesome task had been completed, the horrible tragedy that had befallen the mall on that fateful day in August had left its mark, not just on Manehattan, but on the whole of Equestria. Where it had once been a highly acclaimed status symbol throughout the nation, the mere mention of it now invoked feelings of grief and dread among its inhabitants. But for Caramel, the shopping mall disaster was just the start of his problems. It was late in the evening, and he was now sitting outside one of the intensive care units in an uptown Manehattan hospital, anxiously awaiting news regarding his mother's condition. He didn't know how long exactly he had been waiting, but neither did he care – all he wanted to know was whether his mother was going to be alright. Eventually, after what felt like decades, the door slowly opened, and one of the doctors stepped out into the hallway. Caramel immediately leaped to his hooves; “Well, doctor?” he asked hopefully. “How is she?” The doctor heaved a deep, sombre sigh. “Not good, I'm afraid,” he confessed. “Your mother will live, that much is for certain, but she has sustained pretty severe brain damage.” To say Caramel was dismayed would have been a drastic understatement. “What?!” he burst out in horror. “But...but I can't afford to lose her! You've gotta do something!” “I'm sorry, Caramel,” apologised the doctor, shaking his head sadly, “but her condition's as good as permanent. There's nothing we can do for her except to put her in a care home.” This was far too much for poor Caramel. Without another word, he turned and ran out of the hospital, tears of anger, grief, distress, and most of all guilt raining from his eyes as he galloped down the still bustling streets of Manehattan towards home. This had to be the worst day of his entire life, even worse than when Applejack had unexpectedly left him; not only had he lost another friend, but he had lost him through such tragic circumstances that, unless by some miracle he were to return from the dead, he would never be able to regain him as a friend ever again – and worst of all, he had lost his mother. Maybe not in a tangible sense, but from the blow she had received to her head, she might as well have been killed along with Brooklyn Dodger. But why, he kept asking himself? Why did this have to happen? How was it that if anypony got close to him, something would happen to remove them from his life in one way or another? Was he really destined never to have any friends? Was there any point in carrying on with his life anymore? All those questions and a great many more seemed to strike him from all directions, like a salvo of explosive shells into an old blockhouse. By the time he reached home, his distress had given way to rage, and as soon as he entered his room, he began lashing out at practically everything in sight. For almost a quarter of an hour, he could do nothing but kick every bit of furniture in the room, hollering in anguish and even cursing Celestia for what had happened to his mother and his best friend; but eventually, his strength gave out altogether, and he collapsed onto the remains of his bed, bawling loudly into his pillows. In fact, so devastated was Caramel that he didn't stop crying until it was almost daybreak. Once again, grief and guilt dominated his thoughts; but this time, a new emotion seemed to hold sway over everything else – fear. Specifically, fear of what might happen to him now that his mother was no longer able to look after him. Would he have to get himself a job? Would his home have to be repossessed because he couldn't keep up with the rent? Would his father come back and take care of him in his mother's place? Frankly, he wasn't sure he could depend on his father; that stallion only ever came back to visit his family every once in a while, so he probably barely knew his own son. It would be like the city mayor looking after some random street urchin – something that he might as well have become himself, what with his mother's condition. But how would he manage to survive out on the streets, all alone with nopony to at least show him the way? This was Manehattan, after all; plenty of other ponies, far poorer than him by all accounts, would be more than happy to attack somepony as vulnerable as him just so that they could afford their own meals. Maybe, then, Manehattan was no longer the right place for him. Maybe he was better off abandoning the city life for good and pursuing a whole new path far away. In the end, he came to a firm decision; if Manehattan didn't want anything to do with him, then neither did he want anything to do with Manehattan. With that in mind, he packed some of his most treasured possessions into a pair of saddlebags along with a few essentials, and after leaving a solemn farewell note on the dining room table, he turned and made his way out of the house for the very last time. Ignoring the crowds of passing ponies, he swiftly headed towards the western outskirts of the big city, past the lake where he and Applejack had first seen eye to eye, through the cemetery where the ashes of Brooklyn Dodger lay to rest, until finally he was out in open countryside, far away from the hustle and bustle that had dominated his life for so long. With a small tear in his eye, he cast a final, distant glance upon his old home before plodding sadly away from Manehattan, his mother, the remains of his best friend, and the many citizens who could have befriended him, but had constantly turned their backs on him throughout the nineteen years or so that he had lived there. Following his heavy-hearted departure from Manehattan, Caramel spent the next few months of his life as a mere tramp, drifting through the vast Equestrian countryside with no destination in particular. Incredibly, he found life on the highway to be far easier than his time in the city; he could play by his own rules, he had nopony to boss him around, and because he was living off the country, the old saying about there being “no such thing as a free lunch” no longer seemed to apply to him. If he was hungry, he could stop anywhere he wanted and feed on fresh grass and wild flowers, and if he was thirsty, all he needed to do was find a stream and take a drink from there. Even when night fell, he would pitch up a makeshift tent consisting of fallen branches and a blanket he had brought along with him, with an extra pair of sheets and a small pillow as his bed. It wasn't much, but in this warm weather it was more than adequate – and if that didn't get him off to sleep, he at least had the one photograph he had managed to capture of himself and Applejack before she had left for home to dispel any feelings of sorrow that were keeping him awake. But even though Applejack was still with him in spirit, there was no way of knowing where she was, what she was doing with her life – whether she was alive and well, even! Still, Caramel kept telling himself, what use was there in speculating? There was no way he would ever be able to gain another lifelong friend without something tragic happening to them. It would be far better if he kept his distance from anypony and everypony who tried to befriend him; that way he wouldn't suffer the same pain that he had after that shopping mall disaster, and nopony would end up losing their lives because of him. His resolution didn't last very long, however. About two weeks after he had left Manehattan, thick black clouds were starting to gather overhead, indicating that heavy rains were due over......wherever he was right this moment. Up ahead, he could see a lonely farm nestled deep in the valley through which he was travelling, so he decided to go there in the hopes of finding a barn where he could take shelter for the night. But his trek across the fields didn't appear to have gone unnoticed; just as he was approaching the edge of one, he heard a voice from somewhere behind him – “Well, well, well, not often that I get visitors 'ere.” Caramel spun around, startled – standing just behind him was an old, grey-coated stallion with a straw-yellow mane and tail and a rather stubbly muzzle. He wore a rather tattered cloth cap, and was gazing inquisitively at this unexpected interloper. Judging by his hill-billy appearance, this had to be the farmer who owned the land. “Oh, uh......sorry to have trespassed on your property, mister,” the tan-coated young stallion apologised profusely. “I didn't realise...that is...I, uh......I'll just be on my way then,” and he hastily retreated, trying to avoid what he thought would be an annoyed retribution from the grey-coated pony. “Hang on, son,” objected the farmer, “where are you off to in such a hurry?” Caramel paused, trying to think of an excuse. Eventually, he simply replied with the first thing that came into his head; “Uh......Ponyville?” The farmer shook his head disbelievingly. “Not in this kinda weather you ain't,” he retorted firmly. “With all this rain what's scheduled to come this way, you'll catch your death of cold before you even reach Neighagara Falls! Besides, how ya gonna get by without food or water?” “W...what do you mean, 'without food or water'?” protested Caramel uneasily. “I've got plenty to eat out here – and besides, surely there's got to be a waterhole somewhere?” “So you're livin' on grass and stream water, huh?” Once again, the farmer shook his head. “Not good enough, sonny boy. C'mon back to the farmhouse an' have a bite to eat.” “Uh...no thanks,” stammered Caramel. “I don't want to, er...intrude.” The farmer laughed incredulously. “Don't be silly, son,” he insisted. “We've got plenty of food back where we live.” Caramel tried his best to resist, but the farmer simply took it in his stride, and eventually the tan-furred stallion was forced to admit defeat. Once they had arrived at the farmhouse, however, he couldn't be any more grateful for the farmer's hospitality; not only was this his first square meal since he had left home, but the farmer, who introduced himself as Barley Mow, allowed him to spend the night in the spare bedroom. “My son moved outta here just a few short months ago, so it's only a guest room now,” he had explained as Caramel settled in. Even the farmer's wife, Blink Bonny, turned out to be rather friendly in her own right – a little senile, yes, but still friendly. She had fond memories of her own time in Manehattan many years ago, and was most sympathetic when Caramel confided in the two about his difficult foalhood, and how the collapsed walkways had resulted in the loss of his mother's memory and his friend Brooklyn Dodger's life. As he lay in the warm, cosy guest bedroom, Caramel took a moment to reflect on his fortune that day. Just twelve hours ago, he had been dodging aimlessly through the countryside with only grass, daisies and other wild flowers to eat, and little more shelter than a blanket and whatever he could find to support it; but now, after a much more nourishing meal of turnip soup and corn bread, he had a good firm roof over his head, and more importantly, he was able to enjoy the welcoming comforts of a proper bed as opposed to a blanket laid out over uneven ground. Barley Mow and Blink Bonny had been really kind to put him up for the night – kinder than he deserved, he thought – and he felt like he owed them a great deal in return. He didn't need to think very hard about how he would repay them though. This was a farm, after all; surely an extra set of hooves would be a great help to these two ponies, wouldn't it? If he was really lucky, it might even earn him his Cutie Mark – purely on the off-chance, of course, but if by some miracle he did manage to gain one, then so much the better... As the early morning sun cleared the horizon and slowly began to gain altitude, a much refreshed Caramel stepped out of the farmhouse to find Barley Mow preparing for yet another long, hard day's work out in the fields. A large cart stood just outside the house loaded with various pieces of farming equipment, and Barley Mow himself was packing his saddlebag with what looked like some small seed packets. The tan-coated stallion allowed himself a small, resolute grin; now was his chance to repay Barley Mow and Blink Bonny for putting him up for the night. “Morning, Mr Mow,” he called cheerfully. The old farm stallion turned to face his lodger with an equally cheerful smile. “Mornin', young Caramel,” he said. “How ya feelin'?” “I'm very well, thank you,” Caramel responded cordially. “What are you up to, then?” “Ah, just off to prepare them fields for crop plantation,” explained Barley Mow. “Broccoli an' onions mainly, but I'll be planting a few carrots an' lettuces an' such too.” “I see.” Caramel eyed the cart, trying to work out what he could do to help. But when he saw the cargo Barley Mow had loaded onto it, he could only stare in disbelief; not only were there plenty of hoes and spades and other smallish farming tools, but there were a few large, heavy-looking items that Caramel had never seen before. Surely the old stallion didn't intend to pull all that in one go? “That sure looks like a lot of stuff for one pony to be pulling alone,” he remarked. “Are you sure you can manage?” Barley Mow chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, pretty tough, I know,” he mused, “but I don't normally have much of a choice; Bonny an' I pretty much live in the middle o' nowhere, so extra farm workers are few an' far between.” “Do you...want some help then?” offered Caramel hopefully. The old farm stallion stared at him, visibly surprised. “You're not seriously suggestin'...are ya?” “Well, why not? It's the least I can do to repay you for putting me up for the night.” “Ah, don't go on, son,” chuckled Barley Mow, “you don't need to worry about repaying us.” “Don't need to worry? Over my dead body!” retorted Caramel. “I would have spent the night getting soaked but for you two. I owe you big time for that.” “Course ya don't, Caramel. It was our pleasure.” But for the first time in his life, Caramel refused to back down. “I'm sorry, Mr Mow, but I'm going to have to be quite adamant here,” he stated firmly. “I'm helping you both until I feel I've repaid my debt, and I refuse to take no for an answer.” Barley Mow was stunned, but grateful for the help nevertheless. “Well...okay then, young 'un,” he replied. “If ya really feel ya need to, then by all means, be my guest. I just hope you know what you're doing.” Caramel hesitated. He hadn't been expecting that kind of question to be posed to him, and he could already see what Barley Mow was getting at. But he had already made his decision, so he was going to stick to it no matter what. “Not exactly, sir,” he said bravely, “but I'm willing to learn at least.” “Very well then,” answered Barley Mow. “In that case, you'd better get hitched up to them traces on that there cart. We've got a lot to do today, so the sooner we get going, the better.” “Right you are, Mr Mow,” and Caramel set about harnessing himself to the cart.