//------------------------------// // Suicide is Painless // Story: Interesting Times // by Drax99 //------------------------------// “Wait a minute, what does she mean? Killed herself? Twilight, are you casting that spell right?” Rainbow Dash flew up into Twilight’s face and started to wave her hooves around. “Yes of course I cast it correctly. I’ve cast it plenty of times.” Annoyed, she pushed the pegasus out of her personal space. This made my blood run cold. It was not the first time I had a truth spell cast on me, but this was the first time a relative neophyte had cast it. There was a very good reason why, on most magic using worlds, only someone of great power or status such as a grand inquisitor was allowed to use such spells. While not technically rape in the physical sense, it was pretty damn close to psychological rape, and borderline mind control. In most worlds, it was forbidden. “Pinkie, we are all your friends and love you very much, and we would never want you to hurt yourself. I have to know, when did you try to kill yourself, and why?” Putting a hoof on my shoulder, she looked into my eyes. I felt another shiver run through my body, and the others seemed frozen as the spell took hold and the body poured forth the answer asked of it. Unfortunately, since I was the one in control, it answered the question with information from my subconscious mind, instead of Pinkie’s. “Oh, I didn't try to kill myself. I succeeded rather well, although it didn't last very long. I remember hearing a song once, that claimed suicide was painless. I guess that only counts if you stay dead.” It was quite often that I jumped into an unconscious body. I have a theory that the host needs to be either asleep, or passed out in some way. Or maybe it’s just easier that way. Often I wake up in bed, but a few times I have opened my eyes to find myself at the bottom of a cliff, or even under water. This was the first time I found myself out of breath with a noose around my neck. It hurt like hell, my entire body felt weak, my lungs burned, and my head throbbed. Somehow I found the strength to loosen the rope, and find the stool I had stepped off of. It was a while before I could stop gasping for air and stand up, and even then, the pain almost made me black out again. Why had I tried to hang myself? Searching the room, I realized I was in a modern civilization, surrounded with many of the comforts I was used to on my home world. Television, electric lights, even a computer. There was plenty of food and water, and it seemed to be a lovely fall day outside. Strangely the signal to the TV was out, showing only static, and the internet seemed to be off as well, but the power was on. Some first aid, and some food, and I was feeling much better. A search for a note or other sign of duress that would lead to my earlier condition was nowhere to be found. This guy must not have cared if anyone knew why he wanted to die. An old newspaper was my first clue that something was not as right as it seemed. The front page proclaimed the end of the world, and the article talked about an outbreak spreading. Government was in a state of emergency, and infected people were urged to report for care. No mention was made of what the infection was. The article ended on a darker note, urging any uninfected people to stay away from the infected, and to report them immediately. All sorts of doomsday scenarios went through my mind, as I pondered biological warfare, plagued, or worse. I had read enough stories on world ending diseases. Hell, The Stand was one of my all time favorite books. I imagined Randall Flagg making his way across the country, laughing as the world burned, and gathering the survivors for the end of days. I guess the poor shmuck I was inside of didn't have the balls to tough out the end. Well, what is the worst that could happen to me? I would die horribly to some disease, and then be forced to jump to the next world. Wouldn't be the first time. Looking out of the spaces between the boards covering the windows, the street seemed to be deserted. I idly rubbed my neck, the pain reminding me that my body was not in the best condition. I checked the locks on the doors and decided take stock of my supplies. The food I had found earlier was all canned or dried, so no worries about spoilage. There was dried drink mix to stave off scurvy, and the water was mostly bottled, with a filter system on hand. Whoever this guy was had prepared for a long haul. So why the hell did he try to end it? Finally I found what I was looking for: the pharmaceutical supplies. This guy had a major hookup in the form of antibiotics, pain meds, and plenty of alcohol. Yes, the drinkable kind. On a hunch, I checked the wallet. “Geaorge Summerton, M.D. Well that explains the meds. Weird spelling though.” Well that was what I tried to say to myself. In reality my damaged larynx gave out halfway through saying my name. Rope burns hurt folks, even if you use fancy nylon rope. Needless to say, a couple of Percocets and two rum and cokes later, I stopped giving a fuck. I was quite relaxed in a comfortable chair, reading this world’s version of National Geographic magazine. There was an interesting article about some native tribe that was run entirely by women, where men were traded like cattle. They were also required to wear some rather kinky fetish gear, while the women were entirely nude. Damn, I missed frat parties. I had apparently fallen asleep at some point, the candle I was using as the night descended had burned out, and it was pretty dark. Power was still on in the house, so I decided to just turn on a light. Why waste a fixed resource when electricity was free? I checked the fridge, and saw one more cold beer left, along with a can of sardines. I don’t care what world you are on, or what body you are in; Sardines are nasty! I’ve been in a cat-person, and still I hated them. So, back to relaxing with my last beer, and my thoughts. The usual glow from the coin around my neck was missing, which meant I had at least a few weeks before my next jump. There was food and water enough for months, and no firearms in sight. That counted out starvation and russian roulette for entertainment. Barring some apocalyptic warlord, gang, or other disaster, I had only boredom to fight against for my survival. I’ve survived worse. That was when I heard the banging. Something or someone was making a racket outside my door. I cursed myself for being a moron and leaving the light on. Anyone for blocks around could see I was the only house with signs of life. I left a beacon on that told everyone to come on by to share my supplies. Cursing quietly to myself, I made my way to the door, and peered through the spyhole. What I saw suddenly made everything make sense. Standing in the hallway was the remains of at least a dozen corpses. The problem was, they were all standing in the hallway, and beating on my door. It seems the infection that was so mildly being described was the fucking zombie apocalypse, and I was at ground zero with an army of undead at my door. Suddenly, death by boredom didn't seem so bad. In fact, suddenly death made plenty of sense, and I understood why my host had tried to kill himself. I ran a mental checklist on what I had on hand to finish the job. No guns, drugs would take too long, and even chemicals would be iffy at best. It seems the good doctor was on an environmental kick, and everything under the sink was nontoxic. Even the old slashed wrists took time. Death tended to make me jump early, so I could avoid being eaten alive by... That was it! I was three stories up, and the fall should kill me nicely. A quick swan dive off the balcony, and i was road pizza, with a quick trip to the next level of hell. Judging by the way the hinges on the door were starting to move, it wouldn't be a moment too soon. In a quick motion, I threw open the curtains, and started pulling down boards. Luckily they were only there to block the view, and lightly tacked in place. A few swift kicks, and the last board came down, just as I heard the door start to give way. The howling screams and moans of the undead doubled in volume as they caught sight of their prey. “Later losers! Catch ya on the flip side!” I shot a double barreled finger salute as I launched myself backwards through the window toward the pavement below. The sadly confused looks of the walking corpses framed my view as I sailed backwards, and I felt a hand brush my foot as I made my exit. Sweet freedom was mine, and I grinned as gravity claimed me. Memories of sky diving, body surfing, and other free fall activities came to me, and I fought against all my training to land safely, instead bracing for the most brutal landing possible. The wind whistled in my ears as the window shrank quickly away from me, and i closed my eyes with a smile. I would all be over in a moment and I just relaxed into the fall. A fall that was abruptly ended as I impacted on something soft and squishy. I moaned in pain, as my entire body seemed to be transformed into one giant bruise. Then suddenly I froze, and ice filled my veins as an answering moan came from under me, and I realized what had happened. My dumb ass landed on a zombie, and now I was going to die the painful way. “Aww fuck me!” I cried, and tried to scramble to my feet, only to have my legs swept out from under me. The corpse I had landed on was quick to recover, and held me in a grip that only the damned could achieve. What was worse, there were more of them that noticed me, and headed my way. My struggled were in vain, and I sighed in defeat as I accepted that this was gonna hurt like hell. Well, at least now I could write being eaten alive off my list. I kinda blacked out after the first ten seconds, but I’d like to think I didn't scream too much. Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up, but you can't move? Or perhaps it wasn't a dream? Or maybe you got some damn drunk that you can see and hear everything, but you are locked in your head and can’t talk or move your body right. This was worse. Far worse. There wasn't any pain, there was little sensation at all, but I could hear and smell everything. The color seemed to have drained out of the world, and yet the smallest chirping bird was clear as day, and the rot and blood around me came on the softest of breezes. All of this I was experiencing before I realized what was going on, or that I was already standing on my feet. I couldn't tell what wounds I had, since I couldn't move y head, or even my eyes. I just say back for the ride. A line from a song came to mind: “There’s someone in my head, and it’s not me.” I was a zombie. Walking dead, damned soul, flesh eater, so many names came to mind. And in my fleshy prison, I screamed. I am pretty sure I blacked out again, because the next thing I noticed, I was in another part of town, shuffling down the street. It appeared to be late afternoon, and there were a handful of other zombies around. Slowly I shuffled, aimlessly searching for whatever the new thing in my head wanted. I kept trying to regain control of the body, but it was like I was locked in a room with only a video feed from the outside. I couldn't even beat on the walls. Panic once again started to take hold as I imagined being stuck here on this world as a rotting corpse for years. I was a prisoner, strapped down and forced to watch as something else lived my life in horrific ways. Suddenly, my view snapped up, and I heard a sound. a hushed whisper, and the smell of living flesh flooded my senses. The body I was in growled, starting low and rising in volume until it was a howl. With alarming speed, the body sprinted forward, seeking it’s prey. There was a scream as we rounded a corner, and saw the thing we craved. Flesh. Warm, living, full of lifeforce. It was a young girl, dirty and wearing ragged clothing, and screaming for all she was worth. In a flash we lept forward, only to have something smash into us, sending us off course. I landed in a heap, but with a growl, I was back on my feet in an instant, and searching for the new target. My prey was a grizzled old man, wielding a baseball bat. He looked as filthy and scared as the little girl, but there was a determined glint in hid eye, tempering his fear. “Susana, run! It’s a fresh one. I’ll hold it off, just get to the shelter!” The man barked in a hoarse whisper, trying not to attract any others to the feast. The girl whimpered, and scrambled through a door. I took a step to follow, but a whistle and sudden movement brought me back to the main threat in the room. “That’s right you bastard, say with me! I’m the one you want, right? Nice n’ juicy, eh?” He swung the bat in my direction a few times, keeping my attention. With a grow, I squatted down low, preparing to pounce. The man took a fighting stance, holding the bat at ready. With a sudden jerk of my head, I spat at his face, blood and gore hitting his square in the eyes. I bet he never saw that trick before! In an instant, I charged my startled prey, and my teeth were at his throat. The taste and smell of blood filled my senses as I dragged him to the ground. inside his guard, his attempts to fight were pathetic as my superior strength pinned him down. The lifeforce flowed out of him in a violent flood, as his movements grew weaker and weaker. As he sputtered his last breath, I grinned savagely and started to feed. I felt my body grow stronger, as my hunger was sated, but it was only a matter of time before the hunger returned, and I would rise to feed again. But for now, this meal made me whole, as my mind slipped away into an animalistic feeding frenzy. And do the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into... I honestly don't remember. The closer I came to feeding, the less of my mind remained my own, and the more the creature took over. I wish I could say I was horrified by what happened. I really wish I could. The lines quickly became blurred, and the ecstasy of feeding overwhelmed the horror of what I had become, and the time between was a blur of mindless inactivity. I roamed, I hunted, I fed. What I never did was sleep, or feel. The numbness of my body began to overtake my soul, and soon I lived only for the brief moments that I felt alive. Oh and the blood. So much blood, so many screams. Victims were few and far between, but the taste of living flesh in my mouth became as exquisite as the finest ambrosia, and as heady as the most potent wines. I’m not sure at what point I gave up on my humanity, but it eventually happened. It would happen to anyone in a situation beyond their control. I was trapped and bound more tightly than any jail, and with a sentence longer than life. I was truly damned. Then, one day something changed. It started like the average day, with the sky grey, and the trees grey. Did I mention that the undead are colorblind? No? Well everything was grey. There were no birds, no bugs, no animals of any kind. Anything that made a sound was either long ago consumed, or fled the area of infection. I was shuffling along with some of my buddies, some regular zeds that roamed my little patch of city. There was Zeke, Zeno, Zeus, and Mumbles. I think Mumbles still had some brain function left, because he seemed to mumble to himself instead of the normal groans and moans the others made. Well, suddenly there was a sound, and all of us froze. Some sniffed the air, casting about for a scent, others crouched low for a quick attack. At this point, my body was slowing down, and I was no longer a sprinter. The muscles had deteriorated, and I was well on my way to becoming a shuffler like the classic zombies seen in films. That was something the movies never told you. Fresh zombies were like adrenaline fueled crack heads, running and throwing themselves at inhuman speeds. Over time, however, the body continues to degrade, and the movement and reflexes slow. Eventually every zombie devolves into a rotting corpse, shuffling along slowly toward it’s eventual doom. Some even go dormant for long periods of time, conserving energy until a mean comes by. Of course, feeding rejuvenates the body, and we regain some more mobility for a short time, but it never lasts, and eventually the time runs down, leaving is as an ambling husk. But I’ve gotten off topic. The sound came again, a cry and the clink of metal on metal. Me and Mumbles were among the freshest, and the first to respond, as we shot forward at a brisk walk. I felt the hunger overtaking me as the vile fluids began to ooze from my mouth in anticipation of another meal. Coming around a corner, I overtook Mumbles, and was the first to fall into the trap. Before me was a girl. not just any girl, but the one I had nearly caught my first day as a living corpse. She glared at me defiantly, as she shone a light in my eyes. This did little to slow my body, as it shot forward towards the living flesh that was my goal. I let out a howling moan as I stumbled closer, not even noticing the clang of the gate slamming closed behind me. i came up short as my arms thrust through the bars of a cage, coming inches short of my goal. The girl jumped back, a gleam of fear tempering her arrogance, as she screams. I throw myself at the bars keeping me from my prey, and she giggles nervously. “Got ya now, ya smelly bastard! And now the doc is gonna slice ya up, and find a cure. So you can just bite my arse!” Turning around, the girl wiggle the offered morsel in front of me, bringing forth another howling moan. “Oh, I’m sorry, but it seems you can’t bite my arse! Sucks to be you!” With a final smirk, the girl steps through a hidden door, and out of sight. Without a target, my body starts to wind down to conserve energy, and soon my mind slips away. The next thing I remember, I am in a room that may have once been part of a hospital. Neglect and looting has reduced it to a macabre parody, like one would find in a survival horror game, with water damage and flickering lights that gave off an annoying buzzing sound. My host couldn't move, and he was fighting the restraints to get away, with little success. “Specimen zero-four-six appears to be a male.” I heard a man talking out of view. “Judging by the condition of the body, he is approximately thirty to forty years old, and was in good health before becoming infected. He shows some signs of degeneration, but appears to be a rather recent victim, no more than a year since turning.” As the voice continued to drone on, I saw the owner step into view, wearing a white lab coat, and glasses. He appeared to be talking into a recorder as he examined me. “Specimen’s recent infection makes him a prime candidate for study, and the possibility of a cure.” My mind latched onto that one word, cure, and grabbed it like a drowning man. I prayed that my nightmare may soon be over. “Attempts to sedate the specimen have failed, resulting in only temporary paralysis, but were effective enough to restrain him. We will not start with the extraction procedure.” The what? Suddenly I saw from the corner of my eye a table of tools, including that was no doubt a portable bone saw, with a circular blade. If I could feel my blood, it would have ran cold as the man picked it up. My fear must have translated to my host, as it began to struggle harder. Whatever was in control if this body knew what was coming, and it didn't like it one bit. “Proceeding with brain extraction. Beginning cranial incision.” That’s not an incision you quack, that's sawing my goddamn head off! And as the blade spun up, and made contact with my head, I felt pain for the first time since my death at the hands of the zombie horde. Pain such as I had never felt in my many lives. It was as if a searing hot stream of acid was slowly melting away the top of my head. I remember reading somewhere that the brain can't actually feel, because it has no touch or pain receptors. If that was true or not, the thing that was in control now surely felt pain. My silent scream of agony was matched by the vocal one that my host made, and the walls shook with the sound. “Interesting. It’s as if the specimen can actually feel the pain. It should be noted that the sounds it is making are different than any heard from other infected.” Pausing only to make a note, the man returned to his slow slicing of my skull. As we screamed and struggled, the bonds became slick with the blackened ichor that served as blood, and the table we were secured to groaned in protest. Slowly we felt the straps fraying as we fought against the pain and our captivity. Finally the buzzing of the saw stopped, and the heavy thunk could be heard as it was placed on the table. “I am now removing the cranial cap to expose the infected brain.” Another note was made, and the feeling of pain increased as the top of my head was slowly pried loose. “My god! It’s not a brain! It-it’s some sort of heart!” The surprised gasp of my tormentor came, just as the final thread of the restraints snapped free. The pain from my head was nearly blinding, but I managed to tear free the other straps, and rolled off the table to my feet. In a flash, I was up, and leaping on the shocked man, as his eyes grew wide above the surgical mask he wore. He didn't even get to scream. With a twist, his head was facing the wrong way, and his neck snapped with a meaty pop. My teeth were at his throat, and the lifeblood flowed into me in a torrent. I almost felt like laughing as I feasted on my meal, and the pain began to subside in my head. Suddenly I stopped as a scream pierced the air. Spinning around, spotted the girl from before, but this time she was holding something. I tensed to leap again, eyeing another meal, but was stopped cold as a report rang out. The flash of the gun in her hand made me pause, and I looked down to see black blood dripping from a wound in my chest. Slowly I grinned hungrily, and looked back at the morsel before me, seeing her eyes go wide in fear. Again, a shot rang out, and the world became pain. I felt my head snap back at the bullet hit the brain of my host, and a warmth on my chest blossomed. Looking down, I saw the cursed coin, glowing brightly as it prepared to take me to the next world. Slowly I looked up into the terrified face of the girl, and for the first time since arriving on this world, I smiled. “Thank... you...” I managed to make the body groan, before the world went sideways. Blinking, I realized that I was back in control of Pinkie’s body again. I looked around at the scene before me and inwardly cringed. Rarity was over a bucket making heaving noises, as Fluttershy sobbed on the floor behind her. Rainbow Dash had turned a rather unhealthy shade of pale, and was wrapped in her wings as she rocked back and forth, while Applejack just stared straight ahead, face passive with the hundred yard stare of a shocked combat veteran. Twilight was muttering to herself over and over, something I couldn't make out, while staring at the floor. “Uh, guys?” The room went deathly silent as all eyes snapped to me, varying degrees of horror and shock on their faces. I did a mental look over my shoulder to see both Pinkie and Surprize hugging each other as they shook in wide eyes fear. Pinkamina just sat on her flank looking bored as she munched on the popcorn she had swiped from the others. “I-I’m really sorry. That wasn't something anyone should ever have to listen to.” I turned to glare at the pretty purple pony, “And THAT is why truth spells are considered a punishable offense in most realms.” “B-but, that... What the hay was that? Sure the spell is very hard to pull off for most unicorns, but it’s not against any Equestrian laws.” Lighting her horn, Twilight pulled a book from a nearby shelf and started flipping through it. “I know I performed the spell right! But that’s impossible. There is no way that could have been the truth. Even if you are a little weird and random, Pinkie, nopony could have ever lived through that.” Suddenly she perked up and grinned. “That’s it!” Running over to the basket at the foot of her bed, she levitated it up to reveal several colorful comic books. “Aha! I knew I should have never let him buy these.” Shoving a comic in my face, I saw the cover art of zombie ponies running chasing a lone living pony as dark clouds and lightning illuminated a graveyard in the distance. “See! It was all in this comic. The infection, the zombies, and the really gory stuff. Eew!” After flipping through several pages, she came to a particularly graphic page, and threw the book away in disgust. In a flash of magic, the book burst into brief flames before turning to ash. “Definitely gonna have a talk with Spike about those.” Turning with a smile, she waved to the other girls in the room. “See everypony! It was just a little hiccup in the spell. Pinkie must have had a dream or something after reading that comic, and the spell made her tell the truth she thought she knew!” Still rather pissed at the mental abuse I had been subjected to, I failed to stop myself from blurting out in time, “The spell worked perfectly fine.” “What?” Spinning back to face me, she had a look of confusion on her face. “That’s nonsense, Pinkie Pie. How could it possibly be working if that memory wasn't a fake one?” Too late, I realized my mistake, as the truth spell was still in effect, and I felt it take hold as I blurted out, “Because I am not Pinkie Pie, and that wasn't her memory.”