Undead Equestria

by Sorren

Chapter 13 Dusty - Part one

“Y'all just keep your eyes open now,” Dusty murmured quietly, eyeing the city ahead out the cab window of the locomotive. The cool air whipped his mane and ruffled his coat, cooling the burning sensation under his skin. “Ah don’t know exactly how this is goin’ to go.”

Canterlot appeared as a sort of beacon, and a terrifying one at that. The city had grown much in the years. More platforms had been built upon the side of the mountain, bridges and platforms connecting large sections of the suspended city. The original palace and courtyard still remained in the center of the city, hardly even seen amongst the towering, new-age buildings surrounding it. Most of the upper mountain was now a maze of streets and large buildings. Canterlot had grown in the years, and it had grown fast.

The tracks they traveled upon curved on ahead through a semi-residential neighborhood, just on the outskirts of the suspended city. There was a fair count of houses, but apartment buildings were beginning to pop up here and there, the owners probably having been in the process of buying out the whole neighborhood.

The dawn was still in it’s earliest stages, the sun not having risen yet from the east, in this case, the right. The amber lamp of the locomotive cut a path through the early blue, shining off broken windows of houses and abandoned wagons. The morning was one of pure tranquility; even the normal chugging of the locomotive seemed quelled, as if it knew not to disturb the peace. A single zombie watched dumbly as the engine passed, it’s eyes alight with the glow of the lamp as its head tracked them around a casual bend.

Snowglobe leaned into the pegasus’ side as he gazed out the window, nuzzling his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dusty, we’ll make it.”

“Yeah,” he said distantly. “Yeah... we will.” The gray mare at his side filled him with a sort of joy, but he really wished she’d stop.

“Dusty,” Moon said quietly, taking his other side. “What’s the plan?”

He stared at the monstrous towers of Canterlot for a moment, then looked away to Moon. It took him a minute to form what he was going to say, brain moving a bit sluggishly. “Right, well, uh... Let’s see here. Ah’ve been on this line before. Once the tracks enter the city, we hit an elevated track. After a while they drop and run underground until you reach a railyard near the edge of the industrial district. That’s where we’ll take on water and coal. Then it’s just a short run through a switching station an’ another neighborhood. We cross a bridge, an’ we’re out of the city.” He nodded to himself. “We should be fine through it all as long as we don’t stop an’ we keep the zombies off the train.”

Moon gave a quick nod and headed for the coal tender. “I’ll go tell the others.”

Snowglobe waited for Moon to leave before she spoke again. “Dusty, what’s wrong?” She looked over at him worriedly.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.”

“Now don’t lie,” she persisted. “Looking at you is almost making me feel down. Now, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head again, hardly even noticing Snowglobe anymore. His mind swirled, filling with old memories and thoughts. He let them drift.

-ooOoo-

He had experienced this daydream before, many times before. If he could have sighed, he would have. It felt the same as reading an old story you’ve read a hundred times before, but you could never close the book. The book had to be read.

It was a cloudy day, one greatly appreciated by the farmponies; protection from the searing heat of the sun was always well-welcomed in the fields, especially now, when there were apples to be bucked, carrots to be picked, and fields to be tended.

A young, blue pegasus watched with boredom from the second story window of the farmhouse at the working fieldhands—some of them his brothers and sisters—as they busied about in the fields. He smoothed his dusty-brown mane back, keeping it out of his eyes, and continuously furled and unfurled his wings. He glared back at the feathery appendages and muttered a curse. Stupid wings. The things on his back marked him as different, as useless.

For his whole life he had lived here, but hopefully not for much longer. Thoughts of leaving, of making a life for himself, clouded his mind. What would it take? What would it take to just up and walk out that door, to never come back? Guts said go, but smarts said stay; it was all a matter of which one called stronger.

The door to the quadruple-bunkbed room burst open and two young colts charged in, laughing and jumping at one another. They both stopped as they spotted Dusty, and the red one on the left glared at him from behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be outside helping?” he asked rudely.

“Yeah,” the other added — a brown colt. “It is harvest season in case you don’t remember, and everyone older has to help.”

Dusty ignored them.

“Oh yeah,” the red one chimed. “He doesn’t like to go outside because then he has to work and be around the others.”

“You mean he has to try to work.” They both snickered.

“You both shut it!” Dusty snapped back at them.

“What?” the red one asked. “It’s not my fault you’re a pegasus when the rest of us are earth ponies.”

“Boys!” a deep mare’s voice yelled from downstairs. “Leave your brother alone, if he wants to be useless then let him be useless all by himself!”

“Fine, Mom,” they both groaned in unison.

“Go find a cloud to run away to,” the red one hissed as he made for the door. “I don’t care if Dad likes you, you don’t fit in right.”

Dusty, being in a particularly bad mood at the moment, spun and lunged at them. The blue one dodged backwards as Dusty butted the red one and tacked him to the ground. “One more word from you an’ ah’ll beat you so hard you’ll wish Dad’d take up hard cider again!”

“Sky!” screamed the mare downstairs. “Knock that off right now or I’ll tell your father.”

“Go on an’ tell him!” he yelled back. “I dealt with you for too long! Ah’m leavin’!” He picked his half-cowering brother up off the floor and tossed him into one of the bunkbeds. “Ah don’t get no respect here!” The idea had been on his mind for months now, years even. Even as the words left his own mouth, he was shocked, shock that came with the little rush of adrenaline that urged one to hold strong. It was unknown how or why he had finally decided, but the deciding was done.

“Sky, you better stop being how you’re being!”

“Oh yeah sure, like ah can just do that!” he shot back, storming out into the hallway. The wallpaper was a striped yellow and brown. Luckily, most of it was covered by family portraits or trinkets, and in one case, a giant wagon wheel. “And stop callin’ me Sky!” he added. “Ah like bein’ called Dusty!”

“Now you listen here, Sky! You’re using the name I gave you whether or not you like it!”

“The hay I will!” He kicked the banister as he rounded to the stairs, nearly tripped, regained himself, then stomped down the stairs. Flaring his wings, he shook free a few ruffled feathers.

“You’re going to wake your father!” she yelled in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.

“Good!’ he screamed back, equally loud. “Maybe then he’ll beat some sense into you!”

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a brown mare darted out of the kitchen hall and barred his path to the front door, which was about fifteen feet away across the entryway. “You always were trouble!” she snarled. “I told your father you would ruin this family, but would he listen? Of course not! If it had been my choice, I would have left you in a ditch for the wild hogs!”

Dusty rolled his eyes at her. This was her normal rant; he had heard it before. She would always start off with how she knew he would be bad, and how his father was an idiot for not listening. Then she would go on and rant about his physical limitations, and then it would just go on and on and on.

A dark-brown mare with a dark green mane and tail so dark that it appeared black in the shade, poked her head into the entryway from the sitting room. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Dearie,” said Mother with forced kindness.

The dark brown mare glared. “I’m older than Dusty; why are you still calling me dearie?”

“It’s Sky, Honey.” The mare smiled. “You call him Sky.”

Dusty flared his nostrils. “Why don’t you talk to Yew like she’s a pony instead of just some kid.”

Yew was his sister, birthed closest to him back in his mother’s busy years. She had age on him by about a year.

“—you never help on the fields. You’re not strong enough to do anything useful around here,” she went on. “You can’t handle a plow. You can’t pull a cart.”

There it was. He groaned internally. “It’s because I’m a pegasus!” He had told her this countless times, but the idea that he was different never would seem to sink in for her. “Ah don’t have the strength that earth ponies do because ah’m supposed to fly. How am I supposed to fly if I’m built like a tank with legs?”

She nodded her head in agreement. “That’s exactly why I told your father not to keep you.”

Yew stepped out into the entryway, scowling a little. “Why don’t you leave him alone. I’m tired of hearing you rip on him every other day.”

Dusty blinked. This was not part of the routine. He looked to his sister, the only pony—besides his father—who hadn’t shown hostility towards him for his uselessness. “Ah’d stay out of this if I were you.”

She stepped determinedly up beside her mother. “She doesn’t need to talk to you like that.”

His mother shot Yew the worst of glares. “You want to be in the pen with your useless brother? Well go right ahead! See if I care.”

The whole house shook as a door slammed down the hall behind the stairs. “What in the name a’ Celestia herself is all that damned screamin’!?” A large, amber earth pony stomped his way into the entryway, tired eyes glaring around at the three ponies before him. “All you ponies screamin’ just ruined any sleep ah’m gettin’ today.”

“Talk to your son about it,” the mare said heatedly. “He says he leaving. Well I say it’s about time. All he ever does is sit around and eat our—”

“Get out of here an’ leave these two alone,” he gruffed dangerously, giving her a warning look. “Ah’ll talk to him.”

The mare huffed, but kept her brains about her and stalked off towards the kitchen. The large stallion looked at Yew next, who now stood a little unsurely. “You too,” he said lightly, still holding an air of intimidation to his voice. “Ah need to talk to Dusty alone.” Yew nodded at his command and made herself disappear. He looked to Dusty last. “Come with me.”

Dusty chewed his lip. “Dad, I—”

“Keep it shut. Come with me.”

“Okay.” Dusty hung his head, falling in behind his father as the elder stallion made down the back hall.

His father opened the door to the very back room—Dad’s sitting room—and beckoned the worried pegasus in. Inside this medium-sized room were several rugs and painted pictures of landscape. The walls were brown, almost blending in the the cushions placed on the floor.

Dusty’s father sat near the far wall and Dusty took a seat across from him, shifting nervously. He had only been called into this room twice before, and both times he had left unable to sit for a week. Dusty eyed his father nervously as the amber pony settled comfortably and gave him a long look, as if sizing him up.

“So, ah heard that argument with your mother,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Dusty knew that the opening was rhetorical, and waited for the next part.

“So, is true what you said?” he asked, not with anger, nor disappointment, just with simple calmness. “You really thinkin’ of up an’ leavin’?”

Dusty thought his response over carefully before replying. “Well, Pa... It’s just that ah don’t fit in at all. You know ah don’t get any respect around here except from my older sister.” He laughed with tension. “If she could, Mom’d stop feedin’ me.”

The stallion tilted his head to the right, then left. “Ah can see what you mean. So you’re sayin’ you want to leave then?”

“Well...” Dusty examined the stitching in the rug. “It’s not like ah ever wanted to leave you all, but... Ah just don’t fit in here an’ ah just don’t see any point in hangin’ around a place where everypony glares at me like ah’m dirt.”

Shaking his head, Dusty’s father looked up towards the ceiling, eyes filled with resilience. “There’s somethin’ ah should prob’ly tell you that ah been puttin’ off for a long time now, longer than ah should have let it go. If you really are fixin’ to leave, ah need to tell you before you head out.” He ran a hoof through his whitening, mud-brown mane. Finally, he looked back to Dusty. “You ain’t my son.”

Dusty blinked. “W-what?”

He shook his head again. “Ah never told you because ah didn’t think you’d be able to take it. It pains me deeply to say this, but you aren’t my kid.”

“B-but how? Why?” Dusty stumbled for something reasonable to say. This was a bigger kick in the face than that time a cow had kicked him in the face, figuratively speaking.

His father groaned, looking at his confused not-son. “Ah know exactly where all my kids came from, and when ah made them. Ah know that your mother started bloomin’, but it wasn’t from me. Ah been watchin’; ah only ever had ten kids, an’ you make the unmade number seven.”

“Well then what... How did she—”

“Some time, when ah must have been away, your mother got around back in town. You see, she never liked you because you were her mistake. You’re evidence of her biggest screwup that she thinks ah may or may not know about. Now she don’t know that ah know, and ah plan to keep it that way.” He breathed through his lips. “That’s why you ain’t brown like the rest of us, an that’s why you’re not an earth pony.”

Dusty found himself, not sad or crushed, but angry, but he bit his lip and held his tongue. “So are you telling me that... that this whole time ah was just an... accident?” Having all of this thrown out onto the table now was terrible. It was like being told your coat was a different color, then looking down and actually finding it that color.

The old stallion stood up and approached Dusty. “Your mother may have gone and broken my heart, but ah’m glad she did.” He placed one hoof on Dusty’s shoulder and gave the closest thing he could ever give to a smile, a sort of half-leer. “Ah don’t care if you didn’t come from me. You’re my son, an’ ah still love you all the same.”

Dusty smiled up at his father. “Thanks, Pa.”

“Now, ah know you want to leave, an ah can’t blame you. I ain’t gonna’ lie, there ain’t really no place for you here, an’ after what you just heard... You can go if you want, but ah’m gonna miss you if you leave.”

Dusty sighed. “Ah’m really sorry, Pa, but ah just can’t stay, especially after what ah just finished yellin’ to Mom.”

The old pony gave a single nod. “Ah understand... You best be goin’ then.” He motioned towards the door.

Dusty stood up and made to turn for the door, not feeling the whole goodbye thing, but his father made a sudden movement, motioning for him to stay. The rough pony trotted over to a faded trunk and pulled open the lid. He rummaged around inside for a second and emerged. He closed the trunk and turned back, carrying a leather sheath.

“You should prob’ly take this. The city may be safe for a colt like you but the lands around here sure aren’t. You’ll need some sort of protection.”

Dusty’s eyes went wide. “Is that a gun?” He had only seen pictures of them in newsprint articles left over from his father’s readings.

The stallion nodded. “Sure is. Bought it a couple months ago, you know, when those engineer ponies first started makin’ em’. Figured maybe ah’d use it on that feller’ your mother slept with.” He laughed twice and sighed. “That was a bad joke...” He shook his head. “Nevermind that. Ah want you to have it.”

Dusty took the weapon and pulled it out of its holster. It was a revolver—silver with a stained redwood handle and ivory bit. His eyes drank in the sights of it for a moment more before he forced himself to shove it back into the holster. “Gee, Pa, ah can’t take this.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you leave unless you take it.” He took the weapon back and looked it over. “Besides, ah haven’t named it yet an’ ah figured that’d be your job.”

Dusty nodded. “Yeah... ah think ah might have a good name for it.”

“Well then, Son.” He patted Dusty on the shoulder again. “If you’re bent on leavin’, then you best be off. Ah hope we can see each other again someday.”

Dusty took the holster and strapped it to his right foreleg, frowning at the new weight. “Thanks, for everythin’, Pa. Thanks for bein’ there for me, most of the time, even if ah wasn’t really your kid.”

“Was the least ah could do.” He sat down and breathed a slow breath, examining one of the paintings on the walls. “Ah think it’s best if ah don’t escort you off.”

“Right.” He turned towards the door and gulped. “Until we meet again.” Without another word, he left his father’s room and closed the door quietly behind him. Turning down the hallway, he came face-to-face with Yew.

“Were you listenin’ outside the door?” he asked irritably.

She moved out of his way as he pushed past, and walked beside him. “Only for that very last part.” She flushed. “So, what happened. Why do you have a gun?”

“Ah’m leavin’,” he replied shortly.

She gave him a hard look. “You’re leaving?”

A single nod. “Yep.”

She nudged him and pointed towards the revolver strapped to his leg. “Well, where’d you get that?”

“Pa gave it to me.” Dusty wanted to shoo her way. He could sense what was coming next; Yew’s body language screamed it.

“Well I’m coming with you.”

He stopped in the entryway to look back at her. “No, you aren’t. Ah can’t let you come with me.”

She circled around and sat down in front of the door. “I’m not letting you leave without me.”

Dusty stomped a hoof. “You’re staying here.” He tried to push past her, but she barred his way.

“I said you aren’t leaving without me.” He tried to sneak past the other side of her, but she pushed him back. “You’re going to have to shoot me if you want to leave without me, otherwise you’re going to have me dragging behind by your tail.”

“Yew, please don’t—”

“I’m not changing my mind. I’ve stuck by your side since you were born. I’m not about to let you walk off without me.

Dusty nodded in defeat. He skirted her and crossed through the front door, exiting out onto a faded porch. Yew followed triumphantly right behind. He shook his head. All of this was happening so fast. It all still seemed like a dream.

Their mother glared at them front the edge of the porch where she had been overlooking one of the fields. “I hope your father beat some sense into you.”

Dusty turned towards her, the rage of his discoveries all pouring over. “You cheatin’, lyin’, whore!” he spat, bearing his teeth at her. Yew’s eyes widened beside him and she took a step back.

Before she could respond, he stomped forwards and kicked open the partition door, Yew in tow.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Yew asked as they left the farmhouse, and their screaming mother behind.

Dusty looked to the horizon ahead. “Nope.”

-ooOoo-

“Hello, Dusty? You okay?” Snowglobe looked at him worriedly.

“Yeah,” he replied hastily, taking up an alert stance. He let out a long breath, watching as it steamed ever so slightly in the cool air. “Ah was just thinkin’.”

Snowglobe crossed the cab and sat down in front of the firebox for warmth. “Anything special?”

Dusty looked out into the barely-dawn. “No. Nothing special.” He peered out the window at the ground below as the locomotive thundered quietly over a bridge. “Where is everypony?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah bet Canterlot had close to a million ponies. So far, ah think ah’ve seen maybe two zombies. There’s no way they all got out.”

The engine gave a shudder and the steel groaned. “There there girl.” Dusty patted the side of the cab lightly, frowning up at a tear of steel in the roof. “She took quite a beatin’ from those griffons.”

Snowglobe looked up to the gauges, frowning slightly at them. “Anything bad?”

“Sort of. They managed to do some sort of damage to the smokebox. We also have a leak somewhere, but ah can’t exactly go climbin’ inside the thing to check for it under steam.”

The bridge gave way to an elevated track, carrying them further into the city.

“Ah haven’t been here in four years,” Dusty muttered, looking out over the city again. “A lot has changed.”

Snowglobe looked around. “How?”

He snorted. “For one, ah remember how the buildin’s used to be fifty feet tall and not five-hundred.”

“It’s crazy how fast the market took off.”

Dusty nodded once, slowly. “Yeah, and it’s scary how fast it all fell apart.”

There was a heavy clang from the engine and a sound like a mortar shell, followed by a loud hiss of steam. Dusty jumped and nearly levitated over to the hotseat. “Horeseapples, what now?” A quick examination of the gauges told them they were losing steam, and fast. He cut off steam, growling to himself.

Snowglobe materialized by his side. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “We burst somethin’...” He slammed his hooves down on the hoofplate. “Ah knew it couldn’t go easy!”

Snowglobe frowned at the gauges. “Well, can we fix it?”

“Maybe. It all depends on where it is and your skill.” He looked over into Snowglobe’s deadpan expression. “Yeah, we can fix it.”

With every rotation of the wheels, there was a hiss and a clank that did not accompany the engine well. Loathingly, Dusty set the brakes, listening to the squeal of the wheels on the tracks as the engine slowed. The cars in tow banged together with the sudden deceleration and engine lurched slightly.

Moon burst out of the first carriage and scaled the coal tender. “What’s happening?” She held her shotgun aloft, ready for anything.

“Put that thing down,” Dusty said irritably. “Somethin’s went wrong with the engine.” He set the brakes, the action accompanied by another hiss.

The blue unicorn tossed her head about frantically. “This is a really bad place to be stopped.”

The engine groaned to a halt, momentum killed by the slight upwards slope in combination with the brakes. The pipes hissed tiredly and steel groaned. The amber lamp dimmed slightly, no longer overcharged by the generator mounted atop the boiler.

Dusty crossed to the edge of the cab and peered down. “We’re in a better spot than most.” They had stopped upon the elevated track, about fifty feet up in the air. A small office building sat directly below. The track creaked a little under the weight of the locomotive, and Dusty found himself trying to recall the weight ratings of these tracks.

“Well.” Snowglobe retrieved her saddlebags from the floor of the cab and slung them over her back. “We might as well see what our problem is.” She made to the back of the cab and descended the staircase aside the coal tender.

Dusty once again looked around at the surrounding buildings. His eyes were drawn to something a little peculiar this time. A six story apartment building stood about a quarter mile away, but it wasn’t necessarily the building which had caught his attention. A series of sheets had been hung over the top banister of the building, each with their own letter painted on them in black paint.

‘HELP US’

As far as he could tell, the building was deserted, but at one point, ponies had been there. Pushing the thought to the side of his mind, he followed Snowglobe down the the maintenance walk alongside the track.

The two walked slowly along the right side of the engine, looking over the many pipes and seams. Dusty remembered something and gave his head a little shake. “Moon, pull the big handle on the roof back a little ways.”

“Okay,” called Moon, her voice a little muffled. There was the sound of the lever from the cab and a hiss of steam through the pipes. One pipe in particular along the engine’s length rattled and the burst of steam revealed what Dusty could easily identify as a leak.

“Okay,” Dusty yelled back to Moon. “Kill it!” The leak was above the first piston and a little ways back. Picking up the pace a little, he overtook Snowglobe and half-galloped to the spot. He allowed himself to balk at the sight. This must have been from when they had skimmed the mountainside. Although the engine could handle the corners, it still wasn't exactly certified for them anymore. On the way up they had brushed the mountainside, but he hadn’t thought anything of it.

Just behind the smokebox, the boiler casing had been dented and distorted. Dusty whistled. That alone could have proved fatal had the boiler been compressed. More scrapes and little dents ran along the side, the second worst case proving to be a split in the steel. The real problem was the pinched pipes just above the wheels. It was all coming together now. They had pinched the pipes, and one had finally blown from pressure. The others would have followed the first shortly.

“Wow,” Snowglobe muttered, falling in beside him. “That’s pretty bad.”

Dusty shook his head. They had fought of zombies and griffons alike, but it had been nothing more than a rock that had crippled them. “Think you can fix that?” he said lowly.

Snowglobe examined her cutie mark, an adjustable wrench crossed with a bolt of electricity. “Not my specific specialty, but yes.” She looked back to the twisted steel, then groaned. “But it’s going to take a long time. I’m going to have to let the metal cool, then I’m going to have to find a way to straighten the damage and seal—” She cut herself off and nickered. “A long time, like, twelve hours.”

Dusty patted the side of the locomotive. “You did your best.”

“What’s going on?” Moon called from the cab.

“We’re goin’ to be here for a while!” Dusty yelled back.

The mare pulled her head into the cab and ran around to the staircase. Dusty watched with a half-smile as she cantered up to him. “What do you mean?”

Dusty pointed to the damage and said no more. Moon shifted her stance worriedly, eyes sharp. “Here, we’re broken down here?”

“Damnit!” Snowglobe swore, kicking the wheel. She hopped away with a little eep and held her sore hoof off the ground. “The connecting rod is damaged.” She leaned forward and propped her head on the cylinder housing. “Make that a day.” She stood straight again and looked at the two flatly. “I need my tools... the big ones.”

Dusty cocked a brow at her. “You seem a bit on-edge.”

She nodded shamefully. “Of course I am. We’re on an elevated track in the middle of Canterlot with a broken-down engine. I think I have good reason to be a little stressed.” She pushed past Moon and Dusty and headed back towards the cab. “I mean, we’re in the middle of Canterlot; where the hay are all the zombies? This is honestly freaking me out.”

Dusty followed a little behind her. “Yeah, it’s odd all right.” He winced as a bolt of pain shot through his head. He closed his eyes and it was gone as fast as it had come. With a little more effort than should've been required, he climbed back up into the cab.

“Might was well tell everypony to take this time to rest.” Snowglobe said to Moon with a sigh. “We’ve got some down time.”

“Hey you two,” Dusty interrupted, rubbing the side of his head irritably. “There’s a sign on that apartment building over there, an’ for some reason ah really want to go check it out. You all can handle your own for a while without me, right?”

Moon frowned and scrunched her brow, but nodded. Snowglobe, however, gave him a glare. “You want to leave?”

He pointed towards the distant building. “Yeah, see that help-us sign? Ah’m thinkin’ there may be ponies there.”

“Well why do you have to go?”

He sighed, wishing the mare would stop questioning him. “Somethin’s just tellin’ me ah should go. You know how you get that feelin’ in you, an’ it just feels right?”

The gray mare gave him a long look, as if she were sizing him up. “Make sure you come back. You taught me how to work this engine, but I’m still not confident about it.” She smiled. “Besides, I still haven’t given you your reward for not dying.”

His heart took a painful plummet. “Yeah... ah’ll come back.” He looked over at Moon and she pursed her lips, giving him a prying look. “Ah’ll try not to be long.”

He flared his wings, which were surprisingly sore, and shook loose a few feathers. Without another word, he trotted to the back of the cab and jumped, taking to the skies. The cool air whipped his face and coat, chilling him. Everything seemed so tranquil, as if in mourn of future events.

He looked to the building. It wasn’t too far. The flight would be short.

-ooOoo-

“Would you stop playing with that thing?” Yew scolded, giving Dusty an annoyed look.

The colt holstered the revolver grudgingly and looked around their small camp. “Sorry, ah’m just bored.” He ducked a flame from the campfire as it spiraled off into the night. “Stop bein’ so bossy.”

Although Yew was only a year older than Dusty, she was pulling off the mother role pretty well. “Well, that’s not too big of a deal here, but you can’t just go pulling that thing out in public.” She laughed once. “A colt with a gun. What was Dad thinking?”

Dusty shook his mane, scattering the dust it had collected. “He wanted me to be safe. You know how it’s like its own world out here. It’s nothin’ like the times we’ve been in town.” He looked up at the moon. “There’s not any law out here keepin’ some pony from trottin’ up to us an’ beatin’ us dead.”

Yew shrugged her shoulders nervously. “Don’t remind me.”

Dusty gave her a smile. “You sound like a super-nice version of Mom.”

Yew batted a small stone at him. “I do not sound like Mom.”

Dusty smacked the pebble back, forcing her to duck. “You aren’t like Mom in the snappy way, but you’re bein’ all authoritative.”

“Well just imagine what trouble you would get into if I didn’t watch you.

“Hey, ah don’t need watchin’,” he protested.

She reached over and messed up his mane. “I’m your older sister; it’s my job to watch you.”

He laughed for a moment, then focussed on the ground. “Why did you come with me?” he asked, slightly down. “You had things goin’ fine for you back there. Ah’m sure Pa didn’t want you to leave.”

She shrugged. “I guess I was bored... Besides.” She flicked her tail dismissively. “I like you. I didn’t want to see you go all on your own.”

Dusty smiled a little as he drew a picture in the dirt with his hoof, unsure of what it was supposed to look like, maybe a dragon. “So then, where do we go?”

“Dodge is the closest place. We don’t have any supplies, so we’ll probably have to head there first.”

“Or money,” Dusty murmured.

Yew’s eyes sparkled a little as she reached back and dug in her saddlebag. After a moment, she drew out a small, drawstring sack and dropped it on the ground between them. The contents jangled as it struck the ground. “Yeah we do.”

His eyes widened almost comically. “Where’d you get that?”

“I’ve been saving it. Since Mom believed in the whole sharing all our money thing, I hid it under a rock a bit off the trail.”

He cracked a wide grin. “Girl, ah can’t believe you’ve been savin’ money.”

She gave him a playful push. “Because you never had enough sense to.”

He looked long at the fire. “Ah never thought ah’d be leavin’. It all just happened so fast.”

Yew shook her head at him. “Honestly, what did you expect to do after you trudged out into the desert with no supplies?”

“Well, ah—”

“You didn’t have any idea. That’s why I came with you, because I know that you, never, plan.” The poked him once in the chest with every word.

“Thanks,” he said in defeat. “Thanks, Yew. Thanks for comin’ with me. Ah would be lost without you.”

She placed a hoof over his back and drew him into a hug. “That’s right, little brother.”

He frowned over at her. “Hey now. You’re only a year older than me; stop callin’ me your little brother. We’re almost the same age.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still my little brother.”

The colt gave her a sly grin. “Want to bet?”

Without warning, she threw them both over on the ground and pinned him below her. “Sure.”

He planted his hooves on her belly and pushed up. “No fair! Ah wasn’t ready!”

She rolled off him onto her back, dodging aside as he tried to pounce her. “Well you should have been!” In one fluent movement, she twisted to her hooves and sprang, landing cleanly on the pegasus’ back.

“Hey,” he complained, flaring his wings in attempt to knock her free. She held him firmly, wrapping his forehooves tightly around his neck.

“Yew,” he choked, tossing his head. “You’re choking me.” He tried to buck her off but she wouldn’t budge. As a last resort, he reared up and dropped onto his back, feeling as the slightly-smaller mare squirmed below him. She released his neck to push up and he jumped, turning over in the air to land atop her.

“Ha!” he cheered, pinning her shoulders. The smile quickly vanished from his face at the sight of her eyes.

“Ouch,” she gasped.

Dusty hurriedly slackened his grip. “Ah’m sorry. Shoot, what’d ah do?” Her hoof flashed out and struck him across the muzzle, dazing him.

Yew jumped up and hoofball-tackled him backwards. He was carried into the air to land on the woodpile with a grunt. She jumped and landed with all four hooves on his belly. “Ha!”

He looked up at her, wincing in pain. “Now, that’s not fair. Ah thought ah’d hurt you.”

She nipped his ear and climbed off. “Ha, like you thought you could hurt me.”

“Well, yeah. Ah thought ah could.”

She stood up and helped him off the woodpile. “Yeah, well, you can’t.” She messed up his mane for a second time. “Rule number one: when a pony cries, don’t let them up until you know for sure they’re hurt.”

He rubbed a pained spot on his back, brushing away some shards of bark caught in his coat. “Ah’ll try to remember that.”

-ooOoo-

Dusty touched down on the roof of the apartment building just above where the sign had been hung. He steadied himself, then looked back at the locomotive in the distance. The monster engine still looked pretty big from here, a thin tendril of smoke seeping from the stack. It sat like a wounded beast on the elevated track, the cars behind it in ruin.

The gravelled roof of the apartment building looked as if it had served as some sort of camp. Tents lay scattered about on the roof, most of them toppled by the elements, but a few still standing. Not only were there tents, but emptied ammunition cannisters and torn or bloody casual apparel. There were a few REA uniforms as well, accompanied by damaged service carbine.

Dusty plodded forward, kicking aside a few empty soup cans. From the look of things, the roof must have been abandoned quite a while ago, but there was no sign of a struggle.

He made his way over to one of the still-standing tents, this one canvas. Inside was a camping pad and an old firefly lantern, the fireflies inside long since shriveled and dead. Empty cans and random bits and bobs lay around on the floor. With no real intentions, he kicked a few things around, looking with bored interest at the contents of the floor. He batted the bedroll over, and was mildly surprised to find a bound notebook. Curiously, he sat down and flipped it open to the first page.

It was a drawing, nothing impressive, just a building sketched in pencil. He flipped through a few more pages to reveal more drawings, and good ones at that. There was a full perspective of the city, a zombie, two foals looking excitedly at a pistol. He skimmed through a few more and hurriedly skipped back to one.

The drawing was of a slim mare, lying on her side, belly facing the viewer. Her legs were curled to her belly in a sort of elegant protection of herself. One eye was partially obscured by loose strands of her mane, and a dreamy, almost seductive smile adorned her face. She was missing two notches from her right ear and a bullet hole had torn clean through the left one.

Dusty whistled. Whoever the artist was, they were good. The way her mane hung around her face, the tips slightly curved, her long sleek, tail and that sort of half-smile that suggested she had just made a sly joke, it was perfect.

“Yew?” Dusty asked himself. It was her he was sure of it. He ran his eyes over her features. She looked as he remembered her, though much more thin and starved-looking.

It was Yew.

He shook his head. The chances of that were near nothing. He hadn’t seen Yew for years. But it could be her; she could still be alive. The artist had sketched her in the book after the zombie, which meant that she survived the initial infection.

His heart did a quick summersault, but the feeling quickly faded again. Desperate for more information, he flipped ahead in the book. About halfway through, the drawings stopped. Instead, a journal entry had been taken on this page. In a neat scrawl at the top of the page the writer had printed the word ‘Stuff’. None of the entries had been dated and Dusty gave a little growl of frustration at this.

‘None of us believe him. Two nights ago, some pony came along the street, beating on doors and saying that there were zombies in the city, like, the storybook-eat-your-brain kind of zombies. He said that they were attacking the inner city. Somepony called the authorities over and they carted him off, but it got some residents on edge. Well, it turns out he was right. Right now, I’m sitting here in my study, watching these things in the street. I never believed in these kind of things, but the only thing I can call these ponies are zombies. Mrs. Baker, the old mare in the apartment down from mine, tried to go out there. Celestia... they ate her.

‘Some of the residents on the lower floors have since gotten together and boarded up the doors and windows. Whatever this mess is, we’re going to sit tight and wait it out until the authorities clear it up.’

Dusty turned to the next page with curious eyes.

‘We’re holed out on the roof. Somehow, the things got in downstairs. But we have to be careful up here. The pegasus zombies that got infected, well they can fly, some of them. We have two ponies up here with us from the authority station, but they’re just as lost as we are. I swear, if they weren’t wearing baby-blue suits and guns, they’d be just as scared-looking as we are. There’s also a griffon up here with them. I guess these police ponies were taking it across the city when the stuff hit. He worries me; something in his eyes says he’s really dangerous. I’m glad the officer’s haven’t taken his cuffs off. I would have thought he’d just fly away, but I asked the officers about it and they said his wings were clipped, and that griffon feathers take a long time to heal back.

‘Things are pretty tense up here. There’s not much food or water, or weapons for that matter.’

‘A mare climbed the fire escape today. I have no idea how she survived being on the street, but she was tired and hungry and scared. And she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The others wanted to send her off. Food and water is distributed evenly among us, and nopony was willing to give up their share, so I offered mine to her. I know it was probably a really stupid idea, and I’m probably going to go hungry now, but I had to. She told me her name. It’s Yew.’

Dusty grinned. It really was Yew. The chances were a million to one, but it was her.

‘At first I thought she was just pretending to like me so I’d give her food, but I’m not so sure now. She’s really nice to me. If this is some sort of a charade, well then she’s an amazing actor.’

‘Haven’t really written anything in the past two weeks. There hasn’t been anything to write about. It’s basically sleep all day to preserve energy and sleep all night to try and ignore how hungry you are. But recently, some of the other ponies have been talking about leaving. I don’t like the thought of it, but I have to agree. If we stay here any longer, we’ll starve.’

‘They made their decision. We’re leaving. As I write this, we are packing up what we need to take and preparing to make our way off the roof. Hopefully we don’t all get eaten by zombies.

Yew has a pistol, and she’s a good shot with it too. Good thing she likes me I guess.’

Dusty flipped the page, but there was nothing else; that was the last one that had been written on. There had to be more. The stallion hadn’t even said where they would be going. It had been a miraculous stroke of luck to find Yew, but that luck must have run out.

He slumped and folded his ears. This journal had been written only a couple weeks after the infection, they were now months in. He felt like lying down, waiting, but something stopped him. He picked up the journal and tucked it into the satchel hung around his back—he had left his saddlebags back at the train.

He backed out of the tent and looked around the roof once more. The stairwell door was just a few feet away and he crossed casually towards it. His eyes widened in excitement at the sight of a paper by the door, pinned to the roof with a rock. He had to study the writing for a moment before he was able to make any of it out. The paper had been damaged by the elements and baked by the sun, making the writing hard to read.

‘To the team we sent out: We could not wait for you to return with supplies any longer. If you make it back here, we have gone east, through the apartment blocks. There’s an authority station a little under a mile away from here. We’ll be there.’

Dusty thanked the paper with a little nod. That’s where they had gone. He thanked his luck again and flared his wings, feeling the tiniest bit smug that he could fly. He frowned out towards the east, where the rising sun was just beginning to peek out from above the ground far away. It wouldn’t be a very long flight.

-ooOoo-

“What do you say?” Dusty asked Yew, the two gazing at the farmhouse in the distance.

“We can’t just walk up to somepony’s house,” she protested. She cast a longing glance at the farmhouse and Dusty knew he had her on shaky ground.

“Look, we haven’t eaten all day. Here’s what ah think: ah think we trot up there an’ offer to work for em’ and do whatever they need for food or shelter in return.”

Yew sighed, slumping a little. “I guess we should try it.”

Dusty sat back and clopped his hooves approvingly. “Great, let’s go.” He started forward, leaving Yew no choice but to follow.

This was a small farm—much smaller than the farm they had grown up on, and there was only one field in which apple trees grew. The farmhouse was also a small, two story arc-structure; it wasn’t anything luxurious, but it served its purpose.

He spotted no ponies tending to the trees as they approached, which was very strange considering the apples in the trees were red-ripe and plump.

“Are they crazy?” Yew scolded, glaring out at the trees. “These ponies should have these trees bucked by now. In two days time those apples aren’t going to be any good.”

“Ah was thinkin’ the same thing.” He squinted at the dark windows. “Ah don’t think anypony lives here.”

“Nonsense, look at those trees. You can’t have apple trees that nice on an untended farm.”

The farmhouse appeared as a cozy little thing. It had been painted firehouse-red, which had since faded a little from the sun, and little windmills spun in the front garden.

Dusty paused skeptically as they reached the porch landing. “Well...” He looked over the vacant windows and the door with a big keep-out sign nailed to the front. “Maybe they just aren’t too friendly.”

Yew tugged at his tail. “Dusty, come on. I don’t want to find out if ponies are living here. I’d rather sleep on the ground hungry than get into trouble.”

He gave her an irritated look. “What could we possibly do or find that would get us into trouble out here?” He sighed at the look she gave him. “Fine, we’ll sleep out in the cold, hungry, instead of havin’ a chance at food an’ warm shelter.” He backed away from the porch and rolled his eyes at her. “You happy?”

“Yes,” she said, turning her tail on the farmhouse.

Dusty was still doubting his older-sister’s judgement as they left the farmhouse opposite of the way they had come. He scolded himself for not picking any of the apples for themselves, but it was probably for the best. If Yew did somehow happen to be right about whatever she thought she was right about, then they were better off. And even if he wanted to go back, he knew Yew wouldn’t let him.

“Do you ever get the feeling that something’s watching you?” Yew asked about five minutes after they had topped a hill, dropping the little farm out of sight.

“You mean other than you?” he scrunched his face, mocking thought. “Nope.”

“No, Dusty, I’m serious.” She scanned the rocky landscape, ears folded and eyes alert.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Sis, you are just one big bucket of paranoid today, aren’t you?”

“I swear, there’s something watching us. I can feel it.”

He reared up and waved his forehooves in the air “Oooooh, maybe it’s a zombie.”

Yew put a hoof on his head and forced him back onto all-fours. “Haha, shut up. That’s just some stupid story your older brother made up to scare the hay out of you because you were dumb enough to believe it.” She raised her snout. “There are no such things as zombies and there never will be.”

Dusty gave up on his efforts. “Sorry. Ah was just tryin’ to lighten the mood a bit.”

“Well yer’ doin’ a purdy good job!” jeered a rather goofy voice with a heavily-accented drawl.

Yew screamed and jumped about a foot in the air. Dusty jumped, startled. He spun around, nearly tripping over his own hooves, to face a mustard-colored buck looking over them both with a crooked smile. He had no idea how the pony had managed to sneak up on them, but here he was, smiling like somepony with a gun to his head was telling him to.

His coat was worn and patchy in spots, ungroomed and matted with dried mud. His unsettling smile showed about eight and a half remaining teeth and his breath smelt of dirt and rotten fruit.

“Shoot,” he said, letting out a giggle that transferred into a snort, “Did ah sceer y’all?”

Yew stood behind Dusty, breathing heavily with one hoof on her heart. “Yeah, you did!”

He sat back and scratched his ear with a hind leg. “Y’all were jus’ bein’ so talkative like, ah jus’ walked right up.”

“Dusty,” Yew whispered, “I don’t like this stallion.”

“Me neither,” he whispered back.

“Whach’ya whisperin’?” the pony asked casually, somehow managing to make himself sound very intimidating.

“Nothing,” Dusty said hurriedly.

The scruffy pony took a step towards them. “Oh yes you’s was; ah heard’s you.”

Dusty gulped. He held a calm face, but he was scared half-out of his wits. This pony was bigger and older than he was. He could easily overpower both him and Yew.

Acting as brave as he could, he wrapped a wing over his sisters back and led her backwards.

“Dusty?” Yew asked quietly, as they left the crazy pony, who only stared at them. “What are the chances of us meeting a crazy pony in the half-middle of nowhere?”

The buck that had been watching them go jumped and ran up to them again. “So where ya’ll headin’? Dodge’s jus’ a ways away.”

“Yes.” Dusty walked a little faster, hoping the pony would just give up and fall back, but he stuck by them.

“Well if yer’ headin’ fer’ town then you should know you shouldn’t go there unless you like bein’ around ponies.”

Dusty flicked his tail dismissively. “Ah’m pretty sure we do.”

“When did we trot into spooksville?” Yew asked irritably.

The crazy pony perked his ears. “Wasn’t spooksville you been through; that was my family farm.”

Yew glared daggers at Dusty. “I told you something wasn’t right. Mom and Dad were never lying—the ponies in the desert are crazy!”

The mustard buck shot right to her side. “Ah don’t like yer’ tone missy.”

Dusty drove a knee into Yew’s side. “Don’t mind her, she’s just mad at... whatever girls get mad at.” He pulled Yew close to whisper in her ear. “Don’t make him angry. This pony’s rabbit-crazy an’ ah’ don’t want any troubles with him. We’re almost to Dodge; just keep things calm until then.”

“How am ah doin’?” answered the stallion in an equally whispery voice in Dusty’s other ear. “Oh yes,” he continued, answering his own question. “Ah’m doin’ fine.”

“Are you now?” Dusty asked with an air of sarcasm.

He nodded frantically. “Oh yeah. Whole family’s doin’ great. But they’re a little worried about the graysuits.”

Dusty frowned. “Graysuits?”

“Yeah, the graysuits—Army ponies. They done showed up a few months ago ago askin’ question’s ‘bout the farm. Paid us three-hundred bits so they could bury metal things in the ground around the house an’ the field.”

Dusty pondered the crazy pony’s words. He had heard his father speak of the Army before. They were some sort of new force in Equestria, a branch of Celestia’s Royal Guard. His father had said something about Equestria getting too big for Celestia to manage herself, so she had to create branches she could manage to do it for her, and that the new army was to help her keep order.

“What metal things?” Yew asked.

“Ah don’t remember what’sit they were called. Some radio wave thingies.” He bounced happily. “Three hundred bits!” With that, he turned and ran, nearly tripping over himself.

“Three hundred bits?” Yew said with a frown.

-ooOoo-

Dusty shook himself back to the present. His head throbbed angrily at him and his muscles felt sore, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear.

He flew low between office buildings and apartments, eyes skimming broken windows and the dark depths beyond. A zombie charged up the the edge of an apartment balcony and looked long at him, open mouthed.

Dusty watched the thing with interest. “Go on,” he whispered. “Why don’t you jump?”

The enforcement station was looming just ahead and below. It was a dark blue building in the midst of white and gray. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he dropped towards the station. It was in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by cobbled street and flanked on either side of that by much-taller apartment buildings. It was two stories high, and sported a small landing strip for skywagons—only about fifteen feet in length, a landing there would be a push. The most shocking was that the surrounding streets were completely crowded with pastel zombies. Some wandered around aimlessly, while some batted half-heartedly at the barred doors and windows of the station.

Dusty drew Valediction as he neared, two pegasus zombie milling around on the roof in mind. Hovering just above and taking aim, he dispatched the both of them, both shots striking their marks. He did a full circle of the building before landing, not wanting any unpleasant surprises.

He set himself down near the access door the the second level. Rotting corpses lay around the door, practically glued to the rubberized concrete that was the roof of the building. He tried not to breathe too deeply as he stepped around dried blood pools and bullet casings.

The steel door had been smashed and bent in it’s frame, and proved rather hard to open as Dusty tugged on the handle. He took a breath, heaved, and managed to scrape the door open about a foot, just enough for him to squeeze in. He barely fit, almost getting caught at the wing joints, but managing to pull himself through to the other side. With a little less effort than before, he shut the door behind him.

He did a little bounce, turned, and took a step back into the darkness. His hoof came down on nothing but air and he found himself tilting forwards. Before he could even unfurl his wings, he was tumbling down a flight of stairs, head over hooves. He spun for a moment like a pony in a blender before thudding the the ground at the bottom.

He picked himself up with a groan, rubbing his aching head. Dead fluorescents hung from the ceiling in here. Even the safety lights near the exits were without power. He sat for a minute, giving his head a chance to stop spinning and letting his eyes adjust to the new gloom.

He crept forward, keeping his hoofsteps light on the traffic-carpet below his hooves. Dead terminals sat on desks or lined walls here and there, having since gathered dust on their screens.

The glass door to the Sheriff's office had been smashed and the door had been nearly torn off its hinges. The contents of the office had been scattered, papers and trinkets tossed about around the oaken desk. The shell of a weapon locker sat tipped on its side against the far wall, whatever weapons it had once held gone.

Some ponies had definitely made use of this place. Not quite sure what he was looking for, he continued on, locating the staircase at the other end of the building. He passed a few more corpses on the stairs, their smell putrid in the small space.

The first floor was more of a public grounds. The polished, marble floor which must have once shone under the light of the fluorescents, was now dirtied and stained with whatever had come since the infection. The station must have been abandoned in the midst of the chaos; riot gear had been thrown around and much gear had been hastily left, stacked against back walls or even thrown on the floor.

Morning light spilled through small cracks under the front, double doors, which had been barred and boarded shut. From outside, he could hear quiet groans and grunts, and every once in a while the door would creak in its frame as a zombie pushed up against it.

Dusty kept himself vigilant as he crept around the the greeting desk most ponies never wanted to be greeted at. More blood, more bullet casings, there were no bodies this time. He peered around, his eye catching a faint light. Yellow beams spilt from a doorway to the left of the desk. A sign above informed him that it was the greeting room. He drew the weathered revolver from its holster, teasing the mechanism. Quickly, he hopped over the greeting desk, making much more noise than he would have preferred and cringing at the way his hooves echoed on the marble.

In the waiting room, a single light bulb hung from a cord on their ceiling, lighting a small circle in the center of the room but leaving the corners dark. A pony lay under the light, its back to him.

“Hello?” he called around the firing bit, creeping forward. “Ish you’re a zomfie, pleashe tell me now.” He half expected the pony to jump up, but at the same time he knew that pony was most likely dead. Throwing caution to the wind, he trotted up to the middle of the room and rolled the pony over to face him.

A pony dressed in REA barding looked up at him, shot through the head. From the body’s condition, Dusty would say he was no more than a day dead.

He flinched as a spotlight flared to life from behind him. What the—” He jumped and flipped around, blinded completely by the light. “What the hay?” He tried to shield his face from the light with a forehoof.

“Drop the weapon!” A mare called from ahead, somewhere behind the source of the light. He turned to face her voice and a shot rang out, pitting the marble below his hooves. “Drop your weapon!” she yelled, louder this time.

With no other options, he dropped the revolver, wincing a little as it clattered to the floor. “There.”

“Get down on the floor.”

He glared. “Come on, you already—”

“Get down on the floor now!”

He dropped the the cold marble. “Right, sorry.”

“Slide the revolver over here.”

Knowing better than to try arguing, he reached out a hoof and shoved the revolver towards the light. It slid across the marble and out of sight. “Hey, if y’all don’t plan on killin’ me, could ah please get that back? It means a lot to me.”

There was no response. Dusty looked over to the REA pony and pursed his lips. “Let’s hope ah don’t end up like you just yet.”

“St-stand up!” the mare yelled, sounding a little unsure of herself. Dusty winced into the light, but was still couldn’t make out anything. “Kill the lights,” the voice said after a moment.

There was a click and the light blinding him shut off. There was another click and a hum and the roof fluorescents flickered to life.

Dusty found himself surrounded by four figures, and all of them were plenty intimidating. They smelt and looked of rotten blood and grime, their rifles and armored barding battle-scarred.

The one to his back-left was a light-blue unicorn mare. She leered at him, eyes hardly seen under her unkempt, white mane, stained brown with dirt and blood. She levitated two submachine guns on either side of her, safeties off.

The pony on his back right was a unicorn stallion, gray with a brown mane and tail. He wore a pair of wire rimmed glasses, the bridge held together with a strand of tape. He also sported a battle saddle with a basic-issue carbine on the left. The weapon on the right was much more peculiar—a rifle, nearly as long as he was, the barrel long and notched. A scope had been mounted on a swinging mechanism attached to the rifle so it could be lowered before his eyes.

The thing glaring at him from the left was what scared him most. It was a griffon. It’s fur was dark-brown and it’s hind paws were black, along with about half it’s back legs and the fluffy tip of its tail. It stood on it’s hind legs, aiming a rifle at Dusty with calm contemplation. It had flared its wings, which were both a magnificent and terrifying sight; they were a sort of mix between brown, red, and black, all the colors blending into one another in an uneven pattern of lines. From the shape and build of it, he could tell that it was male, but still found it hard to call the thing a he. The griffon also held a weapon by make of which Dusty had never seen. The rifle had been fitted with a stalk, a trigger just before the beaten wood. The griffon had one set of talons clenched on the wooden grip along the length of the barrel, and the other just behind the hammer mechanism, one claw on the trigger. At the point of which its coat gave way to feathers at its neck, the same went for its wings. The feathers were black, except for small patches of brown and red around its eyes and a cropping of red and black atop its head. It’s beak was a hybrid of brown and black and it’s eyes were amber, borderline on hazel.

Dusty found himself shrinking away. He didn’t want a single thing to do with that griffon. It looked like it could pick him up and tie him into a balloon pony.

The last one was an earth pony mare. She had a dark-brown coat and a green-black mane. A long scar ran up her face, right across her left eye, which had gone a milky white. There was also a small bullet hole through her left ear. She too wore a battle saddle, this one adorning twin-mounted automatic rifles.

His eyes widened as he stared at her. “Yew?”

-ooOoo-

“What are you talking about?” the blue colt protested, glaring at his sister.

She shot him an annoyed face for raising his voice, not wanting to attract the attention of any other ponies in the diner. “I mean, we should go to Canterlot.”

Dusty lowered his voice, keeping his head low to the table. “Why would you want to go there? It’s just a bunch of nonsense and fancy ponies.”

She fumed. “Dusty, it’s not like that. There could be something for us there.”

He thudded the table with a forehoof. “There’s something for us here.” He motioned around to the ponies in the diner. “Dodge ponies are okay with hirin’ kids. You think some city pony’s going to hire us? We’ll end up in some sort of jail or a hole for homeless foals. There’s work for us here.”

“Sure,” she snorted, “Grunt work.”

He rolled his eyes at her, something that was becoming a bit of a habbit. “It’s not like you’re gonna’ get a job that’s anythin’ better than grunt work. You could still be at the farm right now. It was your choice to follow me.”

She rolled her eyes back. “But ponies will hire us if we know what we’re doing. We could learn. We can practically be called adults as long as you ignore the fact that we’re about half a foot shorter than most ponies.” She shook her head. “Don’t you see? This is our chance to make something of ourselves.”

He waved his hooves in front of her face. “Hello, kids! We get to do that stuff later. For now, lets just stay fed.”

She performed some sort of cross between a laugh and a snort. “Please, we’ve been through enough to pass as adults. How long have we been working now?”

“Two months.” He groaned as he fell into her trap. “But—”

“That means we can handle ourselves.”

Dusty allowed his head to drop the the tabletop. “You know how it said in the papers how Canterlot is gettin’ all industrialized. Those poor pony folk work so hard they die.”

She kicked him under the table. “It’s not that bad.”

He shook his head. “You know ah want to run the trains down here. How do you ever expect me to do that in Canterlot?”

“Dusty, you can’t—”

He cut her off: “Don’t you ever say ah can’t. Now, ah don’t care what you want to do, but ah’m stayin’ around these parts.”

She looked distressed. “Dusty, don’t you see? I can make something for myself there, and so can you.”

“Ah don’t want to be some prissy city pony.”

The waitress stopped by their table holding a big cheesy smile—a little blonde mare—and set two adult menus down in front of them. “Are you and your date ready to order?”

Yew glared daggers at the mare. “He’s my brother.”

The mare nearly dropped the clipboard she was levitating. “Oh my goodness. I am so sorry.” she gathered herself. “Would you like to order now?”

Dusty looked up to her. “You should probably give us a moment.”

The mare gave a knowing nod and backed away. “Right. I’ll leave you two to it then.”

Dusty focussed again on Yew. “Ah’m sorry, Yew, but if you go to Canterlot, ah’m not comin’ with you.”

She crossed her hooves. “Well, it looks like we have a disagreement then.”

He smiled at her. “You can’t follow me forever.”

Silently, she slid out of the booth. “We’ll talk about this later.”

-ooOoo-

He stared at the brown mare before him, and she stared back. He tried to think of some sort of thing to say, but came up short. “Well this is cliche,” he muttered under his breath.

The brown mare squinted back at him. “Cliche?”

He parried her prying tone. “Yeah... the chances of me meeting you again...”

She held her confused look, her good eye examining every inch of his body. “I don’t believe this.” She looked back and slid the revolver left on the floor towards her with a back hoof and scooped it up with a forehoof to look at it. “Where'd you get this gun?”

“Pa gave it to me.”

The mare lowered her defensive stance. “Celestia... it is you.” before he could reply, the mare shrugged off her battle saddle and armour and dashed forward to wrap him in a crushing hug.”

“Oh how sweet,” the blue mare crooned with a bit of a rasp in her voice.

Yew drew back, eyes sparkling, the tiniest bit of worry nagging around the edges. “You’re... hot.”

“Whoa, mare,” said the gray stallion.

She shook her head. “No, not like that. I mean he’s burning up.”

“Yeah...” He decided to change the subject. “Why’s there a hole through your ear?”

“Why is your ear missing?” she countered.

“Why you got a scar up half your face?”

“Griffon claw,” she said with a swipe of her tail.

He grinned. “Doubt gettin’ clawed by a griffon made you any stronger.”

“Wanna bet?” she sneered.

He drug a hoof across the ground. “Do you?”

She sprang forward and Dusty reared up to meet her. The mare’s momentum prevailed and he was carried off his hooves to land with a thud on his back.

Her comrades rushed in to help—all but the griffon—but she waved them away. “Leave it!” she growled, struggling to hold the writhing pegasus.

Using her greater weight against her, Dusty, rolling them both over onto their sides, he barely had time to react before she released him and instead, wrapped her hooves around his neck. She tried to roll onto his back, but he managed to keep her off. Trying to save himself, he kicked her in the belly. She slacked enough to allow him to slip free and push her onto her belly. Pinning her from atop, he wrapped his hooves around her neck.

“Ha!” he called.

“Dusty,” she choked, hooves writhing below her. “You got me. Now let go; it hurts.”

“Rule number one,” he recited. “Never let a pony up until you know that they’re hurt.”

She stopped writhing. “Fine.” She sprang up with all four hooves. He struggled to hang on as she threw her body left. He found himself sliding down her right side, where her hoof came to meet his face. Stars filled his head and he closed his eyes at the pain of the surprisingly-heavy blow. When he came to, he found her on top with him on his back, shoulders pinned.

“Ha!” Yew shook her mane out of her face. “Almost.” She stepped off him and tried to smooth her ravaged coat.

The light-blue mare’s eyes darted between the two. “So, what, you two are friends now?”

Yew shrugged as Dusty picked himself up. “He’s my brother.” She gave the unsteady pegasus a strong nudge, knocking him back to the floor. “Who I haven’t seen in quite a while.”

SMG mare pointed between the two. “You two, brother and sister?” She snorted, trying not to laugh.

Dusty picked himself up again, more slowly this time. “It’s a long story.” He looked to Yew. “Not that ah ever doubted you or anythin’, but, how are you still...”

“Alive?” He nodded and she nodded back. “A combination of luck, smarts, and a little help from an REA armory, courteously left unlocked by the previous inhabitants.”

Dusty spotted Valediction still on the floor, and picked up the weapon to return it safely to its holster. Looking up, he examined Yew’s dual assault rifles. “Ah can see that.”

The gray pony took a step forward with subdued grace, his movements sleek as silver. “You said his body temperature was high.” He spoke in warning, but his voice leaked charisma like water from a soaked sponge. “That’s the first noticeable sign of infection.”

Yew gave the stallion a warning look. “I know.” She cleared her throat and turned to Dusty in a business-like fashion. “Are you infected?” She held a strict stance, but her good eye was shimmering with worry.

He pointed towards the bandage around his head. “Ah’m not sure yet. It took the whole ear, so...”

“There’s a chance the ear parted with your body before the infection had the chance to spread,” the gray stallion said coolly. He looked strictly at Dusty. “If you begin to experience dizziness or confusion, you’d better let us know. The beginning symptoms are very similar to those of the common cold, so it’s hard to tell at first.” He shrugged with a tiny grin. “It’s hard to believe, but the flu still exists in all this mess. You never know.”

Dusty nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Yew nudged him. “Here, let me introduce you to my crew.” She pointed to the light-blue mare first. “That’s Altic, our gun toting, SMG dual-wielding psychopath.”

Altic glared. “Don’t push it, Yew. I can still hurt you with a gun without shooting you.”

Yew pointed to the gray stallion next. “That’s Range, if you can guess why.”

Range dropped the scope on his rifle, the mechanism giving a few hearty clicks. “Accurate up to eight-hundred yards.” He sprouted a cocky grin before magically raising the scope.

“I’m also pretty sure that he’s smarter than all of us combined.” She moved on to the griffon. “This is Esekiel.”

The griffon had since sat back on his haunches, rifle still gripped in front of him. He nodded his head once at Dusty, acting much less intimidating. “Hello,” he said in an oily, low voice.

Dusty nodded back, a little unnerved. “Hello.”

“And, last but not least.” She pointed towards Dusty. “This is Dusty, my little brother.”

Range whistled. “Well, that’s a one-in...” He paused frowning at the ceiling. “thirty million chance.”

“Whom I haven’t seen in years.”

“sixty-two million,” he chimed

Altic made a scene of returning the two automatics to their holsters with several metal noises and the swish of steel on vinyl. “Right, now can we get back to our plan of not starving to death?”

Dusty pointed to the REA stiff on the floor. “Was this your doin’?”

Yew sighed. “Sad to say that it was. He stuck with us for a while. Poor sap lost it. Tried to off himself and tried to off us when we tried to stop him.”

Range coaxed a click from his service carbine. “Said we were all left for dead. Well, it was either him or us.”

Dusty changed topics. “Have you lot been in the city since the infection?”

The four of them nodded and Range pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Fortieth floor of Progress Inc. when it all hit the fan.”

Yew gave Dusty an odd look. “Were you looking for me? And if you were, how did you find me?”

“Oh.” He reached back and pulled the journal from his bag. “Ah found this on the roof of that apartment.” She took the notebook with a down expression and flipped to the page with the drawing of her. “He had a journal,” Dusty clarified. “Said you were all leavin’.” He frowned. “Say, where are all the others?”

Yew closed the book. “All dead, except for Esekiel... They never made it across the city.”

Altic flicked her tail. “Yew had to put down her stud three weeks ago.” She snorted. “Found out why she hadn’t been getting any when his eyes started to bleed.”

The glare Yew gave Altic could have scared a zombie. “Yes, he was one of the survivors, and yes, he got infected.” She sighed. “And yes, that’s why I wasn’t getting any, and I think it was pretty courteous of him not to give me anything, like the virus... Yeah, I shot him when his eyes went red.”

Range raised a hoof like a know-it-all about to answer a question in class. “And that’s where I come in.” He rubbed his neck. “I was on the roof of the Chinley building, sniping the stumbers outside the palace gates, when I heard the shot. I knew there’d probably be zombies running for it, so I turned my scope, and there were the three of them on the roof of a diner.” He pointed towards Yew. “Yew here saw my scope and insisted I join them via message drawn on a markerboard.”

Yew grinned. “Last thing I expected was for him to come sailing off the roof on a damned paraglider.”

“Which he crashed,” Esekiel added quietly.

“It was my first time, okay. I think I did pretty good... It wasn’t my fault some pony had a paraglider on top of their business for sport. But I do give them credit for not paying any mind to safety, or airspace laws for that matter.”

Dusty found himself trying not to laugh. “What are you, some sort of ninja pony?

Range blew air through his nose. “That, I am not. I am simply a business consultant who gained access to the weapons locker for the CEO’s private guard.”

Yew flicked Range across the muzzle with her tail. “The owner of the company he worked for was into some really black-market stuff.”

“Hey!” Altic yelled, waving her forehooves around. “Not starving! Hello?”

Yew snapped back into her formal mode. “Right, come on.” She turned and beckoned them all with her tail. Starting out of the waiting room, she beckoned Dusty to her side. “You see, we’ve been trying to make our way out of here for quite some time, and given the fact that none of us can fly, that’s proven rather difficult.” She led them out of the waiting room and down a short hall to a flight of stairs.

“What about the griffon?” Dusty asked, looking back at Esekiel.

The griffon walking on all fours behind them snorted and took a swipe at the wall. “I can’t fly. I had been detained in the city, and to prevent my escape, those authority ponies clipped my wings like I was some sort of animal. I can’t fly more than ten feet.”

“So you see,” Range chimed in, cutting off whatever the griffon was planning on saying next. “We have been attempting other means of escape. And if we can’t escape to the skies...”

Dusty squinted as they reached a bottom of the stairs to be greeted by darkness. Yew hit a switch, bringing to life the dirty, incandescent bulbs along the ceiling.

The basement was roughly thirty by thirty feet. A small spark generator sat in one corner, humming quietly. Other corners were heaped with old riot gear and other outdated equipment that had been tossed down here.The far wall had been blasted open, and the middle of the room had been stacked with piles of dirt and stone.

“You see,” Range clarified, leading Dusty to a table covered with roughly-sketched blueprints. “There used to be an old tunnel system under the city, connecting the city’s prime utilities, hospitals, authority stations, banks, the whole works. Sadly, this station was never part of the loop.” He pointed to a rough square sketched on the paper. “That’s us.” His hoof slid a short ways to a much large square. “This is a branch of the Canterlot Archives, specifically designed for the safe storage of fund documentation and what holotape files that existed with new technologies.” He threw a quick glance at Dusty over his glasses. “You following?”

The pegasus nodded. “Mostly.”

Range nodded, then pointed to a line drawn through the big square. “This is the Hayfield utility tunnel, named after it’s designer and contractor, Herbert Hayfield. Now, the tunnel was shut down one year ago due to the fact that underground steam travel was both inefficient and obsolete compared to new advancements in gem-powered locomotion. Instead of running a third, electrical rail through the old tunnel, the city built a new tunnel adjacent to the hayfield tunnel, ten feet higher. The hayfield tunnel was sealed off, and the city had plans to concrete it, but lack of resources led to the tunnel being abandoned altogether.” He drew a line across the paper with his hoof from the small square to a spot a little past the large square. “We have dug a tunnel from here, to the Hayfield tunnel, two-hundred yards away. I had just finished setting the charges on the tunnel wall when you arrived.”

Dusty interrupted. “Speakin’ of which, how’d you know ah was here an’ have time to set up that ambush?”

Range pointed towards Dusty’s leg. “That revolver of yours isn’t exactly quiet. Then you went and made a whole lot of racket cursing at the door and falling down the stairs.” Range waved him away. “It’s lucky you came when you did. I planned on blowing those charges once we were ready in a few hours.”

Dusty examined the massive piles of dirt stacked around the room. “Just how long have you ponies been here?”

Yew furrowed her brow in thought. “Three weeks... a bit more maybe.”

Esekiel snorted. “Three weeks too long. We had enough powdered meals from our REA buddy to last a week; we made them last three.” To prove his point, his stomach growled angrily. “Seemed such a waste when we shot the army pony.” He growled, rolling his eyes. “Yew won’t let me eat him.”

Dusty flared his wings in surprise and let them fall limp to his sides. “Wha, eat him?”

Esekiel motioned towards himself with a talon. “Griffon. Hello. I’m not strictly vegetarian. I’ve got a curved beak for a reason.”

“I told you that’s an abomination,” Yew said shortly. “You can’t eat a pony we’ve been acquaintanced with. It’s just wrong.”

“And starving is okay?”

“Enough.” Range’s horn glowed orange as he levitated a wood chip from his saddlebag and put it in one side of his mouth, chewing on the end.

“Again with the eating wood,” Atlic drawled.

Range trotted over to a spot near the blasted basement wall. “It’s substance.” Magically grabbing two lengths of copper wire, he wove them together. One end of the copper length streaked off down the small tunnel, the other ran to it’s end near a small spark battery.

Yew gave the gray stallion a look. “You ready?”

Range sat back. “Sure am. I say we blast this hole now. We’re slept, hungry, and we’ve got eleven hours of daylight ahead of us.” He held up the length of wire not tied to the spark battery and held it over the positive terminal. “Is there anything we need to do before we depart our free-range prison?”

The three ponies and griffon exchanged glances and shrugs. “No,” Yew answered for them. “Spark us off.”

Range gave her a half grin and touched the wire to the spark battery. There was a little spark, then a deep bang from off down the tunnel. The ground vibrated and there was a sudden gust of wind from the tunnel, followed by heavy cloud of dust.

“Try to breathe through your lips,” Range warned, activating a flashlight on his battle saddle. “This dust will choke you.”

“Right,” Esekiel murmured. “Lips... I’ll certainly try that.”

Dusty found himself left out as Yew, Esekiel, and Altic flipped on similar devices. Not feeling the need to make a deal of it, he just fell in beside Range as he led them down the pitch-black tunnel.

The dirt and stone tunnel had been constructed of wooden four-by-four beams and other mismatched pieces of wood. It looked stable, but it was nothing pretty. He cringed as a wave of nausea hit him, but it subsided quickly.

It was about a minute of downward travel before they reached the end of the dirt tunnel. A brick wall loomed ahead in the light, partially blasted open.

Range growled as he looked over the outer tunnel wall. A hole, barely large enough for a pony to squeeze through had been blasted in the thick stone. While the surrounding blocks had been cracked and scarred, they had not moved. “I should have used a larger charge, but I was afraid of bringing the whole tunnel down.” he beckoned Altic forward. “Mind giving me a horn?”

She lit her horn with a smirk, pushing past Dusty to focus on one of the large blocks of stone which had broken free. “Anything for you, stud.”

“Please,” he grunted, channeling his magic at the same block, his orange mixing with her white. “Spare the blatant compliments. Praise from you is about the same as getting praise from a good-looking badger.”

She laughed, sweat beading on her brow as she pinched her eyes half shut and forced, horn glowing brighter. “You so want me.”

The block ground forward a few inches. “Sorry, but I’m not a masochist.”

The two grunted and the block shifted and fell away with a crash. “Oh yeah,” Altic said, panting. “I forgot, you like your mare’s tied up.”

Range wiped his brow with a forehoof and magically righted his glasses. He leered at the light-blue mare. “That can be arranged, if you want.” He turned away and pushed through the newly-made entrance, Altic right behind.

Yew crossed through next, grinning. “Thanks for the show you two.” Dusty followed close behind her, and stood aside as Esekiel squeezed through, the stone pulling at his sides.

Range shone his light around the tunnel, a smug grin on his face. “Welcome, everypony, to the Hayfield tunnel.” Altic whipped him across the nose with her tail and he magically yanked on her mane, almost knocking her over.

“What’s with those two?” Dusty whispered to Yew.

Yew shrugged. “Altic can’t stand Range and Range can’t stand Altic.” She frowned. “They must like that sort of thing, because they certainly do get along when they’re alone.

“So they have benefits?”

“Definitely.”

Altic shone her light down the tunnel to the left, then to the right. “Homey, isn’t it?”

The rounded tunnel walls had been lined with auburn tile, stained nearly black from soot and smoke. A quarter inch of water ran down alongside the tracks, trickling over the concrete and creating a somewhat spooky ambiance. The tracks in the middle were worn and rusted, the ties soggy and moldy from moisture.

Dusty tapped the tracks casually with a forehoof. “These are narrow gauge tracks.”

Range pointed to the left, where the tunnel stretched away, out of the range of their light. “West.”

“So, um, Range,” Dusty asked as they started down the tunnel, their hoofsteps echoing ominously. “You never told me the full of your plan.”

Altic gave Dusty a dirty look. “Great, now I have to listen to him talk some more.”

Range cleared his throat and silenced Altic with a look. “Ah, interested I see. This being a tunnel designed for steam travel, there had to be ventilation. Every five-hundred yards is a ventilation duct fitted with an air handler to draw out smoke, and a smaller duct to fill the tunnel with fresh air. To reach these air handlers, one must climb a ladder to a hatch in the roof that leads to a maintenance room.” He grinned. “Here’s the trick. We have to get in to one of those rooms and climb the ventilation duct to the surface. You see, there is no way out of this tunnel, all the old stations having been sealed off with brick and steel.”

“But that’s impossible,” Dusty protested. “I doubt one of those vents is more’n a foot and a half wide. There’s no way a pony can climb up that.”

“My thoughts exactly. You see, all the shafts are vertical... all but one. In one case, the ventilation duct had to be re-routed around a building's foundation. This shaft travels horizontally for a length of fifty feet until a ninety degree curve in which it runs up the length of a wagon park residing above ground, on a lower level of the city. That is how we will get out of here. Our kind griffon friend will cut us free of the vent and, voila.”

“How do you know all this?” Dusty asked curiously.

“A year and a half ago, before they shut down this tunnel, I was assigned to write a burglary scenario in the Hayfield tunnel. I basically know this place like the front of my hoof.”

Altic walked up on Range’s left, swaying her hips purposefully in an egotistic manner. “Tell him your plan for after we get out of the tunnel.”

Range glared at her, his eyes traveling to her rump and her cutie-mark of two crossed sticks with blur lines around them, then back to her face. “Very funny.” To Dusty. “I have no plan for once we leave the tunnel, for I know not what lies beyond the exit.”

Dusty jumped. “Wow, ah can’t believe I forgot to tell you earlier.” He examined one of the maintenance hatches as they passed under it. “Ah got a way out of the city.”

Esekiel, who had been walking a ways behind and balancing on the left rail, slipped and nearly fell on his face, “You what?”

Altic chimed in right after him. “Well why the hay didn’t you—”

“You do?” Yew cut the blue mare mare off. “It’s practically impossible to get out of the city. The streets are still barricaded from when the REA was trying to contain the infection. We’re out of the first barrier, but there’s still the second, and thousands of zombies.”

“Funny thing is, ah didn’t see any zombies when we were headin’ into the city.”

She deadpanned. “One, why the hay were you coming into Canterlot. And two, just because you see can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

Range gave Dusty a nudge. “Do tell us.”

Dusty stepped carefully over a dead rat with a little grimace. “We were headin’ for Baltimare. We got a train.”

Dusty nodded. “We as in, me an’ about fifteen other ponies... We used to be sixty.”

Altic frowned, managing to not look sinister this time. “What happened there?”

“Griffons.”

Esekiel flared his wings and beat them uncomfortably. “Yes, I know we griffons are nasty... I’d hate to meet one of us as a zombie.”

Dusty looked back at him. “Trust me, zombie griffons are the worst.”

“Did you come in from the south side?” asked Yew, changing the topic.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why.” She sighed. “To cover their retreat, the REA blocked the tracks.”

Range chipped in. “They had planned on destroying the bridge spanning the gorge on the northeastern side of the city. Without the resources to do so, they ended up blocking the tracks. Wagons, derailed railcars, two shunting engines. Everything.” He frowned at Dusty. “You know what section I speak of?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Long stretch of track past the railyard, just before the l-turn and the bridge?”

“Bingo.” Range sighed. “They seized up the wheels on the engines they left on main line and greased the tracks before it. I watched them from a rooftop. You’d need a crane to clear those tracks.”

Dusty found himself grinning. “Or a really big train.”

Range glared down the tunnel. “Sure, it’s a shame the REA took all the freightliners with them when they left. You’d need a miracle to push those engines off the tracks, especially with the wheelslip factor.”

Dusty grinned wider. “Ah don’t suppose an Equestrian Railways Big Buck four-thousand series could clear those tracks.”

He snorted. “Sure, if you could find one. They’ve all been scrapped, and the one remaining is sitting in a railyard somewhere in Las Pegasus.”

“What if ah told you there were two left.” Dusty caught Range’s eye and watched as the gray unicorn’s eyes widened in understanding.

“I don’t know whether or not I should believe you. But if you aren’t pulling my leg, then you are just about the damned luckiest pony alive in this apocalypse.”

He shook his head. “Ah wouldn’t quite say. We’re dead on the tracks right now.”

Range deflated a little. “Well, what’s the issue?”

“We pinched a pipe comin’ up the hill. It burst on us once we got a little ways into the city.”

“You’ve stopped on the elevated track?” Range asked with worry.

Dusty picked up his worried tone. “Yeah... why?”

“Those elevated railways are safe-tested for five-hundred and twenty tons, and if I’m correct that engine of yours weighs five-hundred loaded.”

Dusty rubbed his neck. “Well, uh, it’s a good thing we aren’t full on water.”

“But still, that much weight, sitting still—”

Esekiel made a cry of warning, sharp and loud, similar to that of an eagle. He jumped forward, pulling the rifle from the holster on his back and taking a two-legged stance. “Movement,” he rasped, aiming down the sights.

The four ponies tensed, readying their weapons. Esekiel parted his beak, glaring ahead into the darkness. There was a little squeak and a scuttling of movement as a rat darted across the tracks.

Altic screamed, voice cracking, and jumped back. “Rat!”

Range flipped his safety back on and smiled over at her. “Scared of rats are we?”

Esekiel’s eyes remained on the rat as it scuttled about the tunnel. “Hey, Range, do you think rats carry the infection?

“Theoretically... Why do you ask?”

The griffon lowered the rifle. “Because I’m hungry.”

Altic gagged and turned her head away as Range snickered. “I don’t think you should,” the gray stallion warned. “It very well could have traces of it on its fur.”

Esekiel groaned. “You are just determined to make me miserable.”

Dusty found his eyes drinking in the griffon’s rifle. Like he had noted before, it had a stalk, and a trigger just in front and below it. What was peculiar about it though, was that it did not feed like a normal rifle. It had a revolving cylinder, much similar to that of a revolver, but larger and with only five chambers. From the look of the weapon, it had seen its share of abuse, the stained cedar on the grip and stalk dented and scared. His eyes followed the rifle’s course as Esekiel returned it to the holster on his back and fell back to all-fours.

“Not tryin’ to be snoopy here,” Dusty said quietly, striking the griffon’s attention. “But what kind of a rifle is that?”

Esekiel grinned and ran a talon along the barrel of the weapon. “This is a revolving rifle. If you can tell, it was made custom for a griffon. You can’t fit it in a battle saddle and a unicorn could use it if they had enough practice. It was fabricated for my cousin during a civil war quite a ways away from here. He fell in battle and I got this along with a box full of possessions.”

Dusty nodded. “So, um, what’s your story?”

Esekiel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Story, heh. Came to Equestria and became a fugitive the third week I was here. Turns out, ponies like their local wildlife.” Another snort. “How was I supposed to know. When the infection hit, this nonsense that started with ponies mind you, I was currently being held at the very authority station we just broke out of, having been captured the day before for burglary.”

“Well you’re a nice cookie,” Dusty muttered.

The griffon glared. “I had to eat. How many places do you know where a griffon can get work?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he continued on. “They clipped my wings and were transporting me to a more secure environment when those things started running down the street. The authority ponies were nice enough to take me out of the wagon as they fled, and that’s how I ended up on that rooftop where Yew showed up later.” He chuckled almost cruelly. “I would have never seen this rifle again, but turns out the sheriff of that station had a thing for exotic weapons.”

“Well, ah’m sorta’ glad you're here. Not gonna’ lie; you creep me out a bit. But ah feel sorry for any zombie in your way.”

Esekiel looked down at Dusty, his eyes cold and level. “If you spend enough time around me, you’ll soon learn, I will do whatever I can to survive.”

“Heads up all.” Range flicked his light to a higher setting. “We just passed handler number twenty-seven; the next is just ahead.”

Altic stepped around a half-eaten rat with a look of sheer disgust on her face. “Of course there’d be rats down here.” She shuddered. “I hate rats.” She eeped as another rat scuttled out from under one of the track ties. In a second, she drew the two automatics, reducing the little black creature to a pile of red gunk with the dual flash of her weapons’ shortened barrels.

Range shied away. “Easy, Altic. Don’t get blood on my coat.”

“I don’t like rats,” she said angrily, reloading the two weapons. “Zombies are cake... but rats.” She suppressed a shudder.

“Calm it, Altic.” Range flicked his tail at her. “Rats aren’t going to hurt you.”

They walked maybe fifty feet in silence. Dusty scanned the tunnel ahead for any movement, quite glad to see nothing.

Yew perked her ears. “I hear something.”

Esekiel paused, the constant click-clacking of his talons on the concrete subsiding. “You’ve got quite the ear, Yew.” He shrugged her off. “I don’t hear anything.”

It was Altic who stopped them again. “I hear it,” she said fearfully. She shone her light ahead frantically. “I can not be the only one hearing this.”

Dusty perked his ears. He could hear something. It was a scuttling, similar to Esekiel’s claws on the concrete, but much more quiet. His eyes widened in terror as he realized just what the sound was. “Anypony think it’s a good idea to look behind us?”

Dusty tracked Altic’s light as she turned to look behind him. Her light shone down the way they had come and Dusty felt his jaw go slack.

“G-g-g-guys,” Atlic stammered, taking a step back, shaking in fear.

Rats, hundreds of them. They crowded the tunnel behind him, flowing over the rails like a black wave. Their little red eyes shone in the light, nothing but empty orbs.

Range turned around to look back, eyes widening substantially. “To answer your question, Esekiel...” He gulped. “Yes, rats can be infected.” The others had turned as well now, balking at the sight. “I believe it would be in our best interests to—”

“Run!” Altic screamed in a shrill voice. Her hooves blurred below her and she shot up the tunnel, practically leaving her coat behind.

“Yes.” Range turned away and took chase after the mare. “Take advice from Altic. Run!”

Yew fired the two rifles on her back, but hardly made a dent. Wherever her bullets hit, rats went up in little puffs of blood, but more just took their place. Dusty grabbed her by the tail and pulled her back. “Bullets ain’t gonna do no good! Come on, run!”

“Zombie rats,” Range panted. “What is Equestria coming to?”

Altic paused a moment to look back at them. “Come on!” she screamed. Her eyes literally popped from her head as she looked at the horde of little black creatures right on their tails. She turned away again, running just a little ahead now. “Rats. Why rats?”

“Because everypony hates you!” Range hollered back, wheezing. “Oh, wow, I am out of shape.”

“Now is not the time, Range!”

“Do you two always act like this?” Dusty panted as he ran alongside the others. Whatever he had, flu or not, it was having its effect on his body.

Yew shone her light on a ladder up ahead, bolted to the side of the tunnel. “Range, is that it?”

He magically righted his glasses to look at where she shone her light. “Yes!”

Dusty didn’t even bother to draw his revolver as Range took to the ladder, climbing it up the side of the tunnel. Six shots would be useless against the sea of rats behind them. He looked back to find Altic still running down the tunnel, past the point where the rest of them had stopped. “Hey, mare! Altic!” he called. “Come back!”

She skidded to a halt and looked back at him in mild confusion. “Are you crazy!?”

Dusty chewed his bottom lip as his eyes darted between Range, and the wave of zombie rats closing in on them. Yew chomped on the bit of her battle saddle and lit up the two rifles, tearing scars in the advancing pests. “I advise that you hurry, Range!” she growled.

Range pounded his hooves on the panel from the top of the ladder. “Horseapples! It’s padlocked.” He looked down. “Griffon! Cut this lock off.”

Esekiel, who had been standing back trying not to look completely useless, sprang into action. Flaring his wings to their full size, he managed to lift himself to the roof with some effort. Altic joined Yew in fighting back the rats. Although their barrage of fire seemed to slow the rodents, they were still coming, ten feet and gaining.

“Fucking zombie rats,” Altic said through clenched teeth, firing one SMG while she reloaded the other.

Dusty looked up in time to see Esekiel slash through the lock holding the maintenance hatch closed. The griffon shoved the hatch open and climbed through. A taloned arm reached out and pulled Range up through the square opening like he was no more than a stuffed doll.

“Come on!” Dusty yelled to the two mares. “Door’s open!” Without waiting for a response, he flared his wings and flew up to the roof to pull himself into the maintenance room.

Yew’s rifles clicked on empty and she jumped for the ladder. She pulled her way up it, the bolts groaning under her weight. “Altic, come on!”

“Crap, coming!” The mare retreated, climbing up onto the latter and firing her automatics down at the rats that had begun to pool below. She reached the halfway point as Yew pulled herself through the hatch. There was a clang as several rusty bolt heads sheared out of the wall. Altic’s eyes went wide in terror and she froze halfway up the ladder. She turned and looked back, down at the pool of rats that was beginning to form, piling up like water seeping from a geyser.

Range pushed forward and held a hoof out to her. “Altic, come on!”

Slowly, the mare crept up another rung, wincing as the steel groaned. “Don’t worry, Altic, it’s only an old, creaky ladder,” she reassured herself. “And if you fall off it you’ll be eaten by rats.” She crept up another rung and another bolt sheared away from the wall.

Range leaned out a bit further. “Come on, Altic, just a couple more feet.”

She hugged close to the wall, shaking in fear. “Heh, I guess you don’t hate me.” She looked down again and moaned.

“You drive me crazy, Altic, but it would hurt me to see you die. Now come on!”

Altic crept up another half a foot, biting her lip as the steel groaned its protest. There was another clang and the ladder fell away from the wall to lodge against the roof. Altic cried out and clutched on for dear life.

“You gotta’ move, Altic.” Range held out his hoof for her, sweat beading on his brow. “I can’t pull you up if I can’t reach you.”

“Damn rats.” The mare scurried her way up the ladder, now close enough to grasp Range’s hoof. She reached out, and the ladder below her dropped. With a cry, she leapt, propelling herself into the air. Range reached out and wrapped his hoof around hers just as she began to fall. There was a crunch and a clatter as the ladder crashed to the floor amongst the pool of rats.

Range smiled at the blue mare dangling from his hoof. “That was a close one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, flirt once I’m not dangling for my life.”

“Right.” With the help of Esekiel, they pulled Altic up through the hatch, into the maintenance room.

Altic curled herself up into a ball as Esekiel closed the hatch below them, shutting off the sound of the rats’ relentless scuttling and squeaking. “Of all the monsters in Equestria... it had to be rats... It had to be rats.”

Range stopped down beside her, nuzzling her flank. “There now, we’re fine; you’re fine. Stop with the waterworks.” His expression softened a little. “Okay?”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and bloodshot. “O-okay.” She relaxed a little, her breathing slowing. “T-thanks, Range.”

Esekiel flicked a talon across the gray stallion’s ear. “And you said you didn’t like her.”

Range hissed under his breath. “Yes, she’s snappy and pushy and rude and annoying, and it drives me crazy! But it sticks to me.”

Dusty took the small pause to look around the room. It wasn’t much, dingy, gray concrete seeping from moisture. A small air handler sat in a corner, its mechanics rusted and seized from age. A vent, roughly two feet wide, ran out of the side of the machine and through the wall.

As if she had been watching his eyes, Yew trotted over to the vent and rapped on it with a hoof. “Esekiel, mind getting this open for us?”

Esekiel shrugged and sauntered over to the vent, raising the talons on his right arm and examining them. “These things aren’t invincible you know. They do get dull.”

She nudged him, her action proving about the same as nudging a brick wall. “Yeah, but I’ve seen you sharpening them on whatever’s around when you think nopony’s looking.”

He gave her a warning look. “It comes in handy.” Tuning away, he focussed on the vent and, with terrifying force, slashed downwards. He then did two horizontal swipes and one more vertical. There metal squealed and sparked and the side of the vent fell inward. Roughly, the griffon grabbed the sheet of metal and pulled it out of the way to toss it away to the corner of the room.

Dusty folded his ears. “Jeesh... Now that’s just scary.”

Esekiel stepped aside and beckoned them forward like a chauffeur. “Your ride awaits.”

Altic leered at him, having regained most of her composure. “A Griffon... with a sense of humor?” She snorted. “What planet are you from?”

Esekiel glared, giving her a push that knocked her on her rump. “Well excuse me for not trying to fit a stereotype. I could claw your ear off if you’d like.”

Altic picked herself up with a little less gusto than she had previously possessed. “Right, you could kill us all in ten seconds flat. I got the point.”

“Just a question,” Dusty chimed. “Are all griffons like you? Cause’ I only met the ones that were all zombified and they were pretty nasty.”

He looked to Dusty, then cast a sidelong glance to Altic. “No, half the griffons would kill you in ten seconds flat if you so much as sneezed at them. So you should feel real lucky that I haven’t slit your throat while you sleep.”

She looked a little fearful, but held her stance. “I’m pretty sure we both know why you wouldn’t slit any throats, especially not mine.”

Range cleared his throat loudly. “Esekiel, if you could do the honors.” He motioned towards the vent. “You need to cut us out at the end, and there’s not exactly room for us to go climbing around each other in there.”

The griffon looked at the opening for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” he stooped down and shoved his head through the hole, dragging his body behind him and tucking his wings in close to his back. He stuck halfway in, grunted, sucked in his belly, then shoved himself through with his hind legs. “A bit tight in here,” he muttered.

Range followed Esekiel, removing the two rifles from the battle saddle and sliding them in ahead of him. Altic took after him while Yew removed her rifles as well. Dusty fell in next, followed at the back by Yew. The vent was a bit of a squeeze for a pony. Dusty felt bad for the griffon at the front. he must really be having troubles. He noticed claw marks in the steel as he pulled himself forward, illuminated in yew’s light. Obviously, the griffon was having a bit of trouble pulling himself forward.

“So,” Altic grunted as they shimmied forward. “What if this vent doesn’t lead where you say it does and we can’t find a way out?”

“Then you’d better learn how to swim through rats.” Yew said from the back. “Don’t curse us, Altic. We’re doing good so far.”

The five of them pushed through the vent in silence for about five minutes. Dusty found that the inside of the vent was very dirty, coated with soot and ash. Soon, his coat was stained and ruined, turned black from the soot. He assumed the others were faring the same way.

It seemed like a decade before he finally heard Esekiel call out, followed by the squeal of the ventilation shaft as it was torn through. There was a rush of fresh air and a burst of natural light around Altic, and he found himself longing to get out of the whole mess. When it came his turn to pull himself out of the vent, he nearly cheered. Fresh sunlight bathed his blackened coat and he flared his wings to shake out the soot.

Esekiel snorted. Fluffing up his feathers, he shook his whole body, filling the air with black dust. “Go first why don’t you,” he muttered. “You’re all lucky I was up front rubbing off most the soot.”

“Thank you very much,” Yew replied, shaking her tail with a flat expression. “It’s better than blood,” she muttered.

Dusty looked around. They had torn out of the vent on the roof of a parkplace for wagons. A few chariots and an old skywagon remained, its inner workings salvaged. Far off in the distance, his eye caught a plume of smoke, curling into the afternoon sky. They had traveled farther than he had originally thought. They were a good two miles away from the engine.

Range walked up beside Dusty, eyes squinted behind his glasses. “So, that’s our way out of here...”

Yew walked up beside them. “How are we supposed to make it that far across the city?”

Altic snorted, shaking soot out of her mane. “Beats me. I’ll tell you one thing though. I am not going anywhere near another tunnel.”

Dusty had momentary thoughts of moving the engine closer, but noted that they were nowhere near the tracks. Moving the engine would do no good. Also, Snowglobe probably hadn’t had enough time to fix the tubes yet. Speaking of Snowglobe.

He flared his wings “Hey, ah left some ponies back at the train, an’ ah need to go check on things. Ah’ll be—” Before he could continue, there was a heavy blow to his side, and when he came to, he found himself pinned on his back. Esekiel stood over him, looking down, his eyes cool and contemplative. One set of talons rested on his chest, holding him down with enough force to hurt, but not to draw blood.

“You aren’t leaving.”

“Ah, what the hay?” Dusty winced as the griffon’s grip tightened. “Easy with the claws. Those things are like knives.”

“Esekiel!” Yew yelled in a semi-outrage. “What are you doing?”

He never looked up, even as the mare butted him in the side. “I’m playing it safe.”

Dusty looked to the others for help. Altic sat back like she didn’t give a hoot if the griffon disemboweled him, and Range was contemplating the scene calmly, his two rifles mounted back in the saddle he wore.

“I’ve been backstabbed far too many times, for far too long.” He flicked his tail towards the other three ponies. “These three, they’ve earned my trust. You haven’t.”

Dusty gulped. “Could ah ask that you don’t open me like a can of beans?” A bolt of pain seared through his head and he pinched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Esekiel was still glaring down at him.

“You can fly, which means you can find us a route.”

Dusty winced as the talons pricked at the soft flesh of his underbelly. “Ack, it’s fine.” He coughed. “But why you gotta’ go an’ throw me to the ground?” He tried to breathe lightly; the griffon wasn’t giving him any give.

“I’m sorry, Dusty,” Yew chirped. “But, I kind of have to agree with him. We could really use an eye in the sky.”

“I’ve never liked you pegasi.” Esekiel leaned in close. “Remember when I said I would do anything, to survive?”

“Right.” He gulped again. “Ah’ll stay with all of you.”

Esekiel loosened his grip a little. “Good... But a warning, lightweight.” He drove one talon painfully into the pegasus’ coat, causing him to cry out as blood welled around the area. “If you try anything, then I’ll slice you open like a bag of flour, and watch what pours out.”

Comments

[Jazzaman]

dammit Sorren i knew that all griffons in every story ever turn out to be a douche bag!

[FireStorm2247]

Great chapter with lots of good stuff! Looking forward to more my friend.

[Deathpony]

good chapter again and yay Dusty found his sister

[SCP Pinkamena]

...Shit son

[Sorren]

1710055 Shit son what?

[SCP Pinkamena]

1710074 It came to me that if Dusty messes ONE thing up, he's exponentially FUCKED!

[Strawberry Cupcakes]

Awww man well... apocalypse logic you can have the best of things happen to you and all of a sudden one wrong move and you're pretty much fucked

[SinfulDreams]

1710074 Dusty stepped carefully over a dead rat with a little grimace. “We were headin’ for Baltimare. We got a train.”

Dusty nodded. “We as in, me an’ about fifteen other ponies... We used to be sixty.”

Altic frowned, managing to not look sinister this time. “What happened there?”

Hey, there's a missing line here. :l

[Undead Equestrian Writer]

I HATE Esekial... anyway, Dusty could just fly away and Esekial wouldn't be able to do anything about it.