Undead Equestria

by Sorren

Chapter 21 Mistakes in Leadership

The world was a blur of colors, spots of black and red and green and blue all churning together like food coloring in a mixing bowl. The more Willow tried to make sense of it the more the confusing display swirled to a dirty brown. Try as she might, her eyes wouldn’t open; maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was the sticky crud gluing her eyelashes together. Nonetheless, nothing felt good.

How easy it would be to lie here, to welcome death. By all means, she’d earned the right to die pleasantly.

Her eyes may have been closed, but her ears still worked—she could hear. Hearing was good; hearing meant that she was awake, and awake meant that she was alive.

Baby steps.

There was another pony near her, coughing, shifting. Willow groaned out some sort of a response that had been meant to silence the pony, but it was no good. Instead, she focussed on the other pony’s breathing—sharp, ragged breaths and the occasional gasp and whimper returned to her senses. The pony was hurt.

Willow tensed. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was something else, but it brought her to open her eyes.

Sunlight filtered in between the thick leaves above, casting drifting and morphing shadows across the forest floor as the breeze tugged at the uppermost branches. She’d been discarded in the open, lying on her side on the soft ground. There were pieces of the skywagon all about, a scrap of steel here or a sheet of aluminum siding there, scattered like corpses on a battlefield.

“Hello?” Willow croaked. Her voice was dry and harsh. Speaking was more of an effort than it should have been and her ribs stung and throbbed with hot, wet pain—some sort of a fracture, no doubt.

She forced herself to roll onto her belly, then attempted to sit up, moving one hoof at a time, until her hind legs were below her and her back was semi-erect. Then came the task of getting to all four hooves. It took a try or two, but after a quick push and a grunt of pain, she was up.

Where were the others?

Willow staggered forward a few feet, not sure which direction she was heading, then turned and spun back. There had been six other ponies in that wagon with her. Where were they!?

“Brick!” She choked out the words, wincing as her neck popped and cracked with every turn. “Ember!?”

There, parked against the trunk of a sturdy oak tree, was the skywagon... or at least what was left of it. The rear half had survived, but the front resembled nothing more than shredded foil and an accordion that had been stepped on too many times.

Willow did her best to run, though she only managed a sort of stagger, nearly falling twice in the attempt to reach the wagon. The lump was rising in her throat, working its way up from her stomach like a bad apple as she weaved in and out of the scattered wreckage. Celestia... she could already see a pony and their blood on the forest floor.

It was Streakwing. The brave, blue mare lay sprawled on her side a few feet from the front end of the wagon, still tied into the harness that had tangled with the broken remnants of her wings.

Willow approached slowly, trembling for reasons that escaped her current awareness—fear, possibly. The slow rise and fall of the puller’s flanks showed there was still some life left in her, but it was clinging in naivety. The mare’s neck was lacerated with cuts and bite marks, her forehooves adorning the same appearance. Her eyes were open, but unseeing, glazed over. She was little more than a corpse.

She forced herself to walk around the mare, not daring to look closer nor try and help. Streak was beyond saving.

Willow froze with one forehoof in the air as she neared the wagon, ears perking up. A light scratching sound met her ears, faint, but definitely there. There was light breathing too, perfectly audible in the cruel silence.

Without waiting to listen any longer, Willow blundered into the wagon, her hooves thudding on the metal floor. Her eyes went every which way, trying to take in everything at once. The sounds were from Candy, leaning over what was left of one of the seats as she held her head in her forehooves. She rocked herself back and forth, her striped mane obscuring her face. Behind her lay Range and Yew; Range didn’t move, but Yew was in the process of stirring with the occasional grunt or moan.

“Candy!” Willow struggled her way over to her friend and placed her forehooves on the mare’s shoulders. “You’re okay, thank Celestia.” She gave the unresponsive mare a shake, taking the time to glance around the wagon once more. “Where are the others? Where’s Brick and Cotton and Ember?”

Candy whimpered and shook her head. “They jumped early. Cotton. I don’t—she’s...”

“She’s what?” Willow started scanning the floor. Nopony wanted so say the word. It was bad luck. It was a miracle any of them had survived, but they just couldn’t—

There was a pink foreleg lying on the ground, sticking out from underneath one of the seats. The severed end still dripped blood, the crimson liquid running in a thin trail across the uneven floor.

Willow felt herself pale. Her stomach turned over and before she knew it, a concoction of saliva and the meek liquid in her gut was spattering to the floor. “Where’s the rest of her?” she choked.

Candy shook her head again, her voice coming out as little more than a squeak. “I—I don’t know.”

“Range?” Yew muttered from the back of the wagon, dragging herself across the floor towards her companion. She gave him a shake with one forehoof, trying to rouse him. “You okay?”

Willow had to fight to keep her eyes from glazing over. There were thoughts—dark thoughts—in her head, of that little pink mare lying somewhere under a tree as her blood soaked the forest floor.

“Candy!” she blurted, shaking the stunned mare. “I need you. Stay with me! Where are the others!?”

Candy shook her head and started to splutter a few words, but Willow tightened her grip on white mare’s shoulders, nearly throttling her. “Damnit, where are they!?”

“Don’t know!” she choked, pulling away from Willow and collapsing on the floor. “They're not her...”

Willow staggered backwards. “Brick!?” she called, turning her head towards the sky, screaming as well as her parched voice would allow through the torn ceiling. “Brick, where are you!?”

“Quiet!” Yew hissed. She was leaning up against the back wall of the wagon, one forehoof pressed to a gash in her side while the other helped steady Range, who was just now getting to his hooves. “They’re gonna hear you.”

Willow blinked, cocking her head at Yew. “Hear, what—”

“You think they just went away when we crashed?” She scoffed and pulled her hoof away from the cut to examine it. The flow of blood wasn’t anywhere near close to stopping. The cut was deep, gouged with an almost medical precision. Yew had gotten in a fight with something sharp. With a grunt, she fell against the wall, then slid down to the floor, still clutching her side. "Oh fuck, this is going to bleed me out."

Spurring herself into action, Willow rushed forward, levitating the flap on her saddlebags open and beginning to rummage around. She couldn’t help but glower at the red color from her horn—she missed her blue magic... and eyes, but the damned infection had taken that.

Red! What sort of a pony trusted a doctor with red eyes?

Sitting down in front of Yew, she found exactly what she was looking for and pulled out the box of healing potions. Or... what was left of the box of healing potions. Deep, purple liquid drizzled from the corner of the box, pattering softly to the floor. “No no no!” Willow flipped open the lid. Every bottle had met its end, leaving nothing but shattered glass stained in purple. Upturning the case, she emptied its shattered contents one to floor, the potion-stained glass jingling across wagon.

“No what?” Yew leaned back, closing her eyes. Already, her brown coat had lost a little luster.

Willow pulled her saddlebags from her back and dumped them both out on the floor, rummaging through their contents with her magic and forehooves. Bandages, gauze, antibiotics, chewable painkillers; none of this would do any good for an open cavity wound. “Come on, at least give me a bottle of disinfectant!” There, a bit of luck. Willow dug a brown bottle out of the pile and set it aside

“Oh yeah,” Yew mused, taking slow, deep breaths as she sat back and watched. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

“Not without the proper gear I’m not.” Willow sat back, a soft shiver traveling its way up her spine. No potions or stitches and no staples... though she did have a needle. “Ha!” Willow levitated up the little needle and held it before her. It would work, but it would be crude and primitive... and dirty.

Turning around, Willow sorted a dozen or so strands of hair from her tail, then gave a pull. Yew just sat there and watched with mild interest, her greater attention on the opening in her side. Willow made sure to work fast, winding the hair up and feeding it through the eye of the needle. Oh, sweet Celestia, she was going to have to use the entire bottle of disinfectant on this. Just imagining all the places her tail had been was enough to make her squirm. When was the last time she had bathed? Last thing Yew needed was infection spreading to her internal organs; if she didn’t die now it’d be likely to kill her later.

“Stitching me up with your own tail?” Yew asked with a soft chuckle. “Sweet Celestia that’s crude. I mean, great innovation, but fuck.”

Willow nodded, more to reassure herself than to reply to Yew. Last time she’d actually had to give a pony legitimate stitches was back in medical school—it was the one circumstance in modern healing that cost more and was less effective than a healing potion. If it came down to anything, staples would be used to hold the wound for the healing potion to take effect.

Yew winced as Willow pushed the needle through the flesh at the start of the wound and started to pull the makeshift thread of crimson hair through after it. From there, it was just a matter of closing the wound, then she’d be able to focus more on clotting the blood flow.

Her eyes unfocused as she worked. She had to go find Brick. There wasn’t a trace of him in the wagon. For the love of Celestia she had been hugging him when they’d crashed! He’d probably been thrown from the wreckage like she had. What if he was out there somewhere, lying on the ground, bleeding, his—

“Gah!” Yew gasped and gave Willow a glare. “What in the name of medicine are you doing?”

Willow looked down to her stitchwork—it looked like some earth pony foal’s attempt at a patch quilt design. “S-sorry.” Feeling that tremble again, she pulled the thread back a few holes and went back to doing it right. Stab, pull, under, over, stab, repeat. Yew grit her teeth and pounded her forehoof on the floor as Willow, more or less, doused the wound with the entire bottle of disinfectant.

“You okay?” It was Range who spoke.

Willow spared him a glance before going back to her work, retrieving gauze and a roll of bandages. "Yeah... just a bit rattled I guess."

The gray stallion had taken a real beating in the crash, his coat scuffed and bruised. The barrel of his scoped rifle had been tweaked near the tip, bent a full sixty degrees to the right, and his left hoof was angry-looking and swollen.

He leaned forward and placed his hoof on Yew’s shoulder. “Where’d we land?”

Yew snickered and hung her head, cursing under her breath. “We didn’t land, you damned idiot, look around you.”

Range did just that, his eyes widening steadily as he took in the sights. “Yew... we can’t stay here. We’ve got to go, like, now.”

Yew grit her teeth. “Well no shit! My blood’s all over the floor. I don’t know how they haven’t found us yet.”

“Done!” Willow declared, stepping away and immediately leaving them to each other. She scooped up her medical supplies, piling them back into her bags before draping them over her back. Without healing potions, she might as well have just been a drug dealer for all the narcotic painkillers she could dispense. She’d hardly used any of her supplies from the storeroom in the hospital; it was rare for ponies to be wounded. Sure, they died a lot, but there was no such thing as a simple flesh wound by means of zombie.

She made her way past Candy, who was still staring at a blank patch of wall, her ears folded flat to her head. Out of the wreck and back into the sunlight. The forest floor felt wonderful below her hooves after the cold, hard steel of the skywagon. She had to find Brick. He was somewhere here. He had to be.

“Who’s that?”

Willow froze. The voice had been quiet, tiny, hardly more than a whisper... and right beside her. Slowly, she turned her wide eyes to the blue mare lying on the ground. “M-me?”

Apart from the weak rise and fall of her flank, Streakwing didn’t move, but her lips managed to move just enough to form words. “Can’t see...”

Willow found herself staring into the mare’s glazed eyes. They were blue, almost the same color as her coat. “You... did really good.” Willow bit her lip and reached for her saddlebags. She couldn’t just let the mare lay there.

Streak’s lips curled into a smile and she let out a sound that could have been a laugh. “Don’t mention it...” She was silent for a moment, then her ears twitched and her expression changed. “I can see light, blurs and stuff, but... I’m dead, aren’t I? Can’t... feel my hooves... can’t... breathe. Can't see anything but blurs.”

Willow had watched this too many times before. Streakwing was less than two steps from comatose. She hadn’t had the glory of dying in action, and now she was left with nothing but her own mind as her body failed to support it... It was one of the more terrible things that could happen to a pony, especially a young one... especially a soldier.

She found what she was looking for in her saddlebags. “Yes, Streak, you’re dying.” She moved closer to the downed flier, placing a hoof on the mare’s shoulder. The mare’s name was Streakwing; she’d called it out right before the crash—Private Streakwing. Knowing the mare's name made the situation all that much worse.

“Knew it.” Streak uttered the same sound as before in a pathetic attempt at laughter. “Hey... you’re the doctor, right?”

Willow bit her tongue for a second. “Yeah... I am, but if your wounds don’t kill you, the infection will. They bit you.”

“Yeah... I know.” The mare closed her eyes, thank Celestia. “I was... gonna ask if you carry any morphine.”

Willow glanced to the two needles she held in her forehoof. “You read my mind.”

Another attempted laugh. “Thanks. And after you do that... take my... tags. Give ‘em to the army.” Streak opened her eyes again, the glassy orbs below her lids angled towards the sky. “KIA has more closure... for family... than MIA, y'know?"

the tremble started with a little shudder that ran up Willow’s left foreleg, then transitioned its way to her spine where it took to the rest of her body. Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned forward, and with magic and hoof, jabbed both needles in the mare’s neck. “You’re very brave.” Crimson magic lighting up her horn, she levitated silver tags from around the mare’s neck and tucked them away in her saddlebags. “You saved se—” she caught herself. “Six... six ponies today. You flew like a champ.”

Streak smiled. "Yeah... remember that—Streakwing the brave. I sure did show them, didn't I?"

Willow backed away. "Y-yeah. Streakwing the brave." She couldn’t cry; it wasn’t a choice, but an inability, not since Bottle of Progress, not after that. Sadness found a way to manifest itself as anger... but this just hurt.

Streak muttered something else, but she was too out of it for her mouth to form proper words. She groaned and slurred a few more things, then slipped into unconsciousness, her flank rising and falling gently.

The morphine would get to her in another couple minutes.

A twig snapped somewhere behind her, somewhere in the treeline. Willow spun on her front forehoof, yanking her pistol from its holster, her levitation struggling to hold it steady. The delayed pain hit her a moment later, brought on by the sudden movement that mad managed to agonize her supposedly-fractured ribs, and she nearly fell flat on her face.

Brick stared back at her from the treeline, a battered-looking radio box hanging by its strap from his mouth.

Willow put two and two together. He'd woken up first and went scavaging, or maybe he'd been thrown free from the wreck and was just now making his way back. Willow didn't give herself any more time to ponder as she hurled herself across the clearing, closing the gap between them in a few seconds. Shoving the radio aside, wrapping her forehooves around him, she did her best to ignore the pain in her ribs that came with the hug.

"I thought I lost you..." Willow Nuzzled into his chest, willing the tears to come, but still unable to produce anything more than a dry sob. He put his forehooves around her and she melted, sinking into his embrace. "Brick, I thought were dead." Relief washed over her in waves, forcing back the worry and sadness and leaving plenty of room for anger.

With a growl, Willow wrenched herself out of his grasp and stomped her forehooves, aiming her refined rage at Brick. "I thought you were dead!" She snarled. "Damnit, Brick! Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Brick took one step backwards and lowered his head, folding his ears and averting his eyes to the ground. He pawed at the forest floor and glanced up at her, then to the radio, then back to her.

He really did look sorry.

Willow softened her expression and sighed. "I know... I know. You were just trying to help. I'm sorry. It's just... aaagh!" She grasped her head in her hooves and pinched her eyes shut. "You're the only pony from my old life that's still alive..."

"Hey!" Willow's ears perked at the sound of a pony calling out through the treeline. She knew that voice! "Brick, I found the dashboard compass! We also need to go, now!"

Ember burst from the trees in full gallop. It didn't look like there was a scratch on her; her burnt and scarred coat looked nicer than anypony else's at the time, and that was really saying something. “They’re back there!”

"Ember!" Willow called, beckoning her over.

"Everypony shut up!" Yew hissed from behind Willow in a hushed tone. She was hauling herself out of the skywagon, Range right behind her as he took careful steps on an injured-looking forehoof. "Are you trying to bring them all straight to us!?"

Ember went on racing past. “Wasn’t kidding! They’re back there!” Past Willow, past the skywagon and Yew, and right on into the forest she ran.

Willow shared a look with Brick, who blinked, then glanced in the direction Ember had come. Sticks and branches snapped and broke from somewhere within the trees and the heavy pounding of hooves on the forest floor was hard to miss.

Willow exploded to her hooves and nearly fell on her face for the second time in two minutes as she tried to take a bounding step after Ember. The only thing that saved her was Brick fastening his teeth in her scruff and hauling her back to her hooves.

“Time to go!” Yew hollered into the wagon. She reached back and tightened down a few straps on her saddlebags. Giving the bandages on her flank a quick once-over, she gave a quick sprint that brought her up beside Willow and Brick. Range followed right behind, ungraciously lumbering along on three hooves.

Willow skidded to a stop, turning back to face the wagon. They were missing one. “Candy!” Giving Brick a quick glance over her shoulder, she started back towards the skywagon. “Haul your shellshocked ass out of there right now before I—”

And there she was, scrambling from the metal shell as she buckled down the strap on her saddlebags. Willow nodded to the former REA private and turned back to follow the others. Brick had been kind enough to wait for her, and even kinder to run along beside her, giving her a nudge or a pull whenever she stumbled, which was a lot. Every time a hoof met with the ground, white hot needles of pain traveled from her flanks to her spine, and it was wearing down on her quick.

“Ember!” Yew yelled out ahead. “How many were there?”

Ember tossed Yew a panicked look over her shoulder. “Thirty or so. Way too many!”

“Thirty,” Willow gasped. She glanced over at Brick. As far as she could tell, his machine gun still worked just fine and was fully loaded. “Can’t we just stop and shoot them then? There’s enough of us with guns to stop them.”

Range shook his head at her, panting as he spoke up. “How many do you think... are in the area? They listen for gunshots... and come after them. We’d be killing thirty and... attracting a hundred.”

Ember slowed a little to fall in with the rest of them. “Where are we even going?”

“The prison,” Candy answered. Despite her greater training, she was starting to pant along with all the others. The worst part about it was that they weren’t even running all that fast, not with the wide range of different injuries and ouchies amongst them. “Ashfield. That’s where they were heading. If we can regroup... with them... that’ll be good.”

Willow went left around an oak tree while Brick went right. There was no trail to go by, and navigating the terrain was anything but easy at full speed. There were small ditches and ravines, thick patches of undergrowth that hid streams or ensnaring vines. It was actually quite pretty, if not ankle-snapping deadly.

“Candy,” Yew answered. “Ashfield's forty miles away. In our condition, that’s at least three days from here.”

Range snickered. “Not if we run there!”

Willow threw a glance over her shoulder. She could see them now. They were fast, but clumsy, tripping over every bit of exposed root or undergrowth and bouncing off tree trunks like ball bearings in a pachinko machine. Though as quick as they went down, they were back on their hooves and running again, the ponies at the front of the pack changing constantly as they gained the lead, then tripped and lost it to the ones behind them.

This was trouble.

“Brick,” Willow gasped. She was practically leaning on him at this point; the landing hadn’t done her well at all. “We’re gonna have to stop and shoot if they get any closer.”

“Wait.” It was Candy who replied. “I-I’ve got an idea.” Falling back a few feet, Candy reached back and pulled open the flap on her saddlebags with her teeth. With a grimace and tiny shake of her head, she reached into the bag and pulled out a...

Willow gagged and looked away from Candy as she tugged the pink appendage from her saddlebag. For the love of everything, Candy was carrying Cotton’s leg in her mouth.

Candy fell back, digging her hooves into the ground as she slid to a stop and turned. Willow didn’t dare slow down, but she watched over her shoulder as Candy reared back. The mare hesitated only for a second, and after that second was done, she flung Cotton’s leg out into the forest, right over the heads of the oncoming horde.

The first zombie’s head snapped up to watch the piece of meat and it tried to skid to a stop. The others collided with it from behind, bouncing and rolling across the forest floor. A green mare somewhere near the back of the pack reared up and caught it in her mouth. A blue pegasus stallion next to her growled and bit down on the other end. A third, yellow mare bit down on the middle, then they all dogpiled.

Zombie ADD

Willow turned her head away from the growling, writhing mass as Candy gradually caught back up with them. The poor mare was in tears, biting her lip as she ran. “b-bought us some t-time,” she choked.

Willow was so busy gaping that she almost forgot to keep running. She was so sure she’d seen everything, but she’d never seen one of her companions use the leg of her dead friend to distract a horde of zombies. It was one of the things she could have easily lived her entire life without seeing.

Still, they didn’t stop. The world became a blur as Willow ran alongside Brick, hopping logs and streams and whatever else, weaving in and out of trees. It must have been miles they’d ran. Willow wasn’t sure anymore.

Over time, the running became trotting, trotting became walking, then the walking became staggering. Willow couldn’t hear anything in the woods apart from the group’s own breathing and their own unsteady hoofsteps.

New things were happening every day; apparently, outrunning a horde was one of them.

“You guys,” Range said with a chuckle and a stupid little grin. “We just outran the infected.”

Yew rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, we did, genius, now don’t jinx it.”

“I’m not gonna jinx it,” he whined back. “I’m just excited. I thought we were all dead.”

“Heh... yeah,” Candy pitched in, fixing a teary-eyed gaze on Range. She could have melted him into a puddle with her look if she’d wanted to. “Good thing we’re not all dead. Only one.”

That shut them up.

It was some time before anything eventful happened, some more time for Willow to zone out. It was so easy to lose track of time. One second you were thinking... then the next—

“Look at that!” Ember called, trotting out a little ways ahead, pointing to something still hidden from Willow by the foliage. “I think we’ve found our place to stay tonight.”

“Place to stay?” Willow narrowed her brows, then looked up. “How could you want to stay anywhere? We need to get out of this forest.” Twilight was approaching, the sun far away on the horizon. They’d really been going on for hours, and she’d been zoned out the entire time.

Hours gone by, just like that... where had she been?

Breaking from the trees, she and the others came to a wide field of green grass littered with wildflowers of just about every color. And there at the end of the field, a little way up a hill, was a farmhouse. The paint was old and flaky, its white sheen faded to a more sickly yellow. The building stood two stories tall and was nice and big when it came to houses, probably designed to house a family and a whole workforce.

“Would you look at that,” Range mused. “A house out in the middle of the forest. What’s the luck of that? Bet you ten bits it’s either full of zombies or there’s a pony living there.”

Yew growled and gave him a harsh elbow to the ribs. “Don’t jinx it.”

Willow shrugged, eyeing the wildflowers as they streaked by. “What’s the luck of surviving a high-speed skywagon crash with a thousand zombies chasing you?” It was all rather pretty, almost pretty enough to make her forget the image of Candy hurling Cotton’s foreleg through the air. “What’s the luck of outrunning a zombie horde in the forest?” She frowned. “Lucky nopony else has found the place, I guess.”

“Willow!” Yew snapped, groaning and hanging your head. “Do. Not. Jinx! Us!”

No less than a second after Yew had finished her sentence, something moved in the second story window of the farmhouse.

Willow was starting to think she was unlucky as she squinted at the old house.

The muzzle of a rifle flashed from the window. Willow hardly had time to blink. She felt the bullet whiz right past her ear, shredding the air in its wake, then from behind came the distinct ‘thwack’ of a bullet striking flesh and a cry of pain.

Willow spun around on one hoof. There had only been one pony walking behind her.

Candy wavered on three hooves, one forehoof pressed to her neck as blood seeped from the wound, trickling down her coat. Her eyes widened and she fixed her gaze on Willow before glancing to the window the the farmhouse. She took one step to the right, then keeled over, disappearing in the long grass.

Willow stared at the spot she’d disappeared, jaw locked. She was only reminded of the current situation when another bullet zinged off a rock a few feet from her hooves. Yew and Range both ducked into the grass, Ember made a beeline for the treeline, and Brick, somehow, had literally disappeared. He was just gone!

Then she was sprinting, ripping through the grass in the direction of the farmhouse with pure hatred in her blood. Nopony took cheapshots at her friends.

The pony in the window fired shot after shot at her, but for reasons Willow didn’t care to make out, he missed every time, coming close only once with a shot that cut a few strands loose from her tail.

A fence had been erected around the house, but the garden wire did little to stop her as she charge headlong into the wire mesh. It entangled her for a second and she took a moment to stomp and kick until it let her go. Without missing a beat she was on the porch. They’d locked the door, but there was no stopping Willow as she threw her entire weight against it at full pelt. The inside of the doorframe blew out, splinters of wood and flaking paint filling the entryway as she slammed the door aside.

An old blue stallion stood just inside with a rifle. He didn’t even have time to get the weapon up before Willow was on him. One well-placed forehoof pinched the barrel of the weapon while the other hoof pummeled his face until it was bloody enough for her liking.

She didn’t stick around to finish him off. Up the stairs she went, smashing two more doors out of her way to get there. Into the upstairs hall she raced, levitating her pistol by her side as she stalked down the hall. A green mare stepped into view holding a bat in her teeth, but one look at Willow and she ducked back into the room she’d been hiding in. Willow fired off four rounds into the door the mare had taken refuge behind and heard a yelp from the other side.

Behind the next door was the bastard who’d been taking shots at them with a rifle.

The flimsy wooden door held up just as well as the others as Willow kicked it to splinters. Barging into the room, she sighted the pistol with the back of the tan pony’s head. He was still aiming the rifle out the window, leaning against a dresser to steady himself and look down the scope.

Willow went to pull the trigger, but hesitated. No, he deserved to see this.

The stallion was only halfway through turning when Willow clobbered him aside the head with a forehoof and threw him to the floor. Growling, teeth gnashing, she rolled him into his back and slammed her forehoof down on his throat. The pistol levitated before her eyes, the barrel pressed firmly to the side of his head. “How dare you—”

She was looking into the eyes of a colt, no more than ten or so. He gazed back at her, terrified, tears streaking down his cheeks as his hind legs kicked feebly at her belly. For a moment, her grip slackened as the shock ate at her thought process. Then she thought of Candy, lying in the grass, bleeding... maybe even dead. The gun barrel forced itself a little harder against the colt’s skull.

“Who under the sun taught you to shoot ponies who’re just minding their own business!?”

“I-I’m on guard duty!” the little green colt replied. “G-gramps said t-t-to shoot any pony or c-crazies that came towards the house.” He’d given up trying to shove Willow off at this point and instead was using his forehooves to cover his eyes.

Willow grit her teeth, panting, glaring hate into the colt’s eyes. “You shot my friend!”

Somepony screamed from behind her and Willow turned just in time to see the green mare from before, blood trickling from a flesh wound on her back, only she was in mid-swing with the old wooden baseball bat.

Willow’s head snapped around, blood misting from her mouth and nose as the bat met her face with a sound that no face should make. The pistol clattered to the ground as her levitation died. She staggered away, getting three hooves under her but missing with the fourth and careening to the side. She stumbled, bounced off the wall, then crashed to the floor. Blood from her nose and mouth pooling on the wooden floor. Her ears rung and her head spun, blackness and little green dots creeping into her vision as she tried to lift her head up off the ground.

“You bitch!” the green mare howled around the bat. She screamed then lunged. The bat came down on Willow’s already-fractured ribs and there was a wet crack from her side. Willow screamed in response and tried to roll away. Her magic reached out for the gun, but the mare’s hoof came stomping down on her horn, and all at once the magic ceased.

“What?” the mare hissed in Willow’s ear, putting her hoof down on the pistol that lay just in front of Willow. “Reaching for this?”

Willow coughed and spat another mouthful of blood onto the floor. Her tongue ran over chipped and broken teeth, easily fixable with a healing potion, of course, if she had one. Her face felt... off, crooked.

Willow’s eyes remained on the gun as the earth pony mare took it up and pressed it to the side of her head. Of course... a healing potion couldn’t fix a shot to the head.

“M-mom,” the colt said, stepping into Willow’s line of sight. “She wasn’t going to shoot me. I... I shot at her first.”

“Well of course you did,” the mare shot back. “You were defending your home!”

“But I shot her friend!” He stomped his hoof. “I shot her in the neck. She’s just trying to protect her friends!”

The mare disregarded the colt with a flick of her tail and checked the chamber on the pistol, snapping it closed again when she was satisfied.

Willow willed herself to move, to fight back, but she could feel at least two of her ribs poking at her insides, the broken nubs stabbing at her flesh. The pain was off the chart; she could get in a screaming contest with a mare in labor and win.

“Mom!” The colt took a step forward and drove his shoulder into the green mare’s side. “She’s a pony, not a crazy! You and dad told me we weren’t shooting ponies, only crazies, but she’s not a crazy!”

For a moment, Willow seemed to be forgotten as the mare turned to glare at the colt. “Yeah, and then your dad went and got shot, by a pony! There’s no laws any more, so what do you think ponies are gonna do? Kill each other.”

“But we’re shooting them before we can even talk to them!”

“Because what if they’re with Match Stick?”

“Not everypony’s with Match Stick, Mom!”

Willow found herself a little interested in the situation. Who was Match Stick and who exactly were these ponies? Of course, none of it mattered if this mare decided that she wanted to shoot her in the head, but it was a good way to take her mind off things.

The green mare glowered at her son. “If you’re so afraid to shoot ponies, then why did you do it in the first place?”

The colt seemed to crumple. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then hung his head. “Because I was scared! They had guns.” He turned away from her, looking towards the door. “They—”

Brick stood in the doorway, the machine gun on his back primed, the bit in his mouth. The colt’s jaw dropped and he took a step back, glancing between Brick and his mother as the brown stallion stroder further into the room.

Willow felt the mare’s grip on her tense, and in response, lifted her head a little. “You shot at the wrong ponies.” She spat up a little more blood and smirked a smirk of broken teeth. “You bitch.”

Range and Ember fell in on either side of Brick. Range even had the blue stallion that Willow had bloodied near the front door held before him, the back of his rifle placed to the stallion’s head.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t clobbered the stallion too bad. He still had both eyes and most of his teeth; the only bad wound was a gash on his forehead that showed a little bit of bone.

The mare only sneered at Willow before looking up, a slow grin crossing her face. “What, that’s it?”

Ember glared. “What do you mean that’s it?”

Behind Ember and Range, there were two clicks, coaxed from two automatic rifles held by two similar-looking brown stallions who’d just stepped into view.

Ember blinked, then glanced behind her. She turned back with wide eyes. “Well, isn’t this a clusterfuck.”

Range smirked at the mare and rolled his eyes. “What, you think they’re going to help you. Really, you should prepare yourself better for a standoff.”

The green mare glared daggers at Range. “Got you covered, don’t I?”

“Hold it right there!”

Willow let her jaw hang open a little bit. That was Candy’s voice. The striped-maned mare stood just at the head of the steps, aiming her two automatic rifles over the banister at the two brown stallions. Yew stood beside her, a pistol held in her jaws.

Willow groaned and tried to shift the way she was lying on the floor, but the green mare placed a hoof on her side and pressed down. Willow screamed as the pain returned, the ends of her broken ribs stabbing at the nerves.

Brick growled, actually growled, a deep rumble in his throat and stepped forward, his eyes narrowed hatefully as he sighted the mare’s head. He stomped his hoof, then nodded towards Willow and tossed his head to the side.

“Mom,” the colt whispered. “There’s a lot of them.”

“See what’s going on here!?” Candy shouted from across the hall. Willow could just see the mare between the legs of one of the brown stallions. “Everypony dies, all of you, if you make one stupid move. So why don’t you put the guns down!?” Blood dripped steadily from her white coat, running down her neck where it pooled around her right forehoof on the floor. She couldn’t stand like that forever—hopefully their attackers didn’t realize that. “I—we... we don’t want to kill you, but we will!”

The mare seemed to pale. She took a step away from Willow, though kept the pistol trained on her. “D-dad?” she asked quietly.

The blue stallion on the ground in front of Range lifted his head and tried to shake the blood out of his eyes. “Back down, Corn. It’s not worth it.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah, but—”

“You bimbo!” The stallion snarled through his broken teeth at her. “We lost! Now put down the gun before you get us all killed!”

Willow let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as the mare lowered the gun, then dropped it. Immediately, Brick rushed forward and snatched it up. With one forehoof, he shoved the mare against the wall then moved to help Willow.

Convenient enough, there was a bed in the room. It most likely belonged to the colt, considering the Wonderbolt patch quilt, but Brick didn’t seem to care as he carried Willow over and laid her down on her good side.

The others had surrendered their weapons and were being herded into the room as well. Soon enough, all five of them, the colt included, stood up against the wall.

Candy staggered over to Willow and pulled her bags off, starting to rummage and coming out a moment later with some gauze and bandages.

“Glad you’re okay,” Willow breathed.

Candy smirked, even as she winced and pressed the gauze to her neck. “Thanks... I sure did get lucky though. Entry and exit wound, didn’t hit any muscles, arteries, or organs... I guess I was worthy of a second chance.”

“Who fired the shot?” Range asked bluntly, aiming the carbine on his back at each of them in turn.

The colt seemed to shrink under Range’s glare and he nuzzled into his mother’s grasp.

“The colt,” Willow said, groaning as she picked her head up. It didn’t want to stay, and quickly dropped back to the comforter. “He was told to.”

Range turned his eyes to the colt. “By who?”

“Me, you damned kook,” the old stallion snapped, wiping a forehoof across his face. Willow could see the pain in his eyes—no doubt that open flesh wound was stinging like mad. “This is our home and we’re going to protect it.”

Range tilted his head towards the old stallion and raised one brow. “So, you have your grandson shoot passerby?”

The stallion grit his teeth. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Not like I’m in any hurry.” To prove his point, Range sat back and shrugged his shoulders, leaving Brick and Yew to cover the five ponies. “If you’re gonna shoot at anypony who gets near looking for a place to sleep in a world already as fucked up as it is, you must have a good reason.” He grinned, intimidation flashing in his eyes as he reclined. “Please tell.”

The old stallion narrowed his eyes at Range. “You lot are different from the stallions and mares in the woods.” His voice hardened. “So you can start off by getting me something to stop this bleeding in my head.”

Willow perked her ears, then flared up her horn, rummaging around in her bags until she found the most abused piece gauze sponge she had. He made sure to glare down Willow as she did. Honestly, she felt a little bad for beating his face with her forehoof, but to be fair, he had also had a gun. Nonetheless, he certainly seemed to hold a grudge, even as she levitated him the dressings.

“There’s ponies in the woods, hiding out, lots of them.” He pressed the gauze to his forehead and winced. “They’re scavengers, worse than the Celestia-damned crows. Wish the crazies would just come through and pick them off.”

Range frowned. “So, I’m just gonna guess here and say you’ve had problems with them?”

The old stallion nodded. “We used to be six... lost my son in law to a pony named Match Stick... killed him. Stallion runs some sort of a bullshit thing he calls a gang, out in those woods.” He thrust his hoof towards the window. “Used to run Waterwillow before the crazies overran it, now he still likes to pretend he owns something. There’s twenty or so of them. They want us to move out and let them have the house.”

Range nodded. “So, if there’s twenty of them and five of you, why haven’t they killed you all and taken the house yet? No offense old-timer, but you five don’t look like you can stand up to twenty ponies.”

Willow beckoned Brick over as the two stallions talked. The brown stallion lowered his ear close her head and Willow leaned up to whisper to him. “Is my face bad?”

Brick bit his lip, then nodded.

“How bad?”

He bit his lip a little harder and glanced away.

Willow swallowed hard, trying to keep her mind off it. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do.” Now that she thought about it, her words were broken and slurred, spoken through numb and swollen lips. “That stallion doesn’t seem all too concerned about the torn flesh on his forehead. Something tells me they got healing potions around here. Go check and see. I want my face fixed and I want my ribs healed.”

Brick nodded and slinked off. The stallion sure was sneaky when he wanted to be.

“They haven’t killed us yet,” the old stallion was saying, “because we’ve been holding them off!” He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I built this house with my own hooves and I’m not leaving. Something about this plot of land keeps the crazies away—they don’t come here in hordes, no more than one or two, and I’ll be damned if I let some punk kids in a gang scare me off my own land.”

“So that’s why you had your grandson shoot at us?”

The stallion gruffed. “I told him to take out anything that moved. Those bastards said they’d be back tonight and I wouldn't put it past them to come out and finish the job. They want us out of here. They want the house and they want the supplies. I can see it in their eyes—they’re starving out there, as they should be.”

WIllow forced herself to sit up a little. “Really? There’s zombies everywhere, killing anything and everything that moves! There’s zombies out there, and you ponies are fighting each other?”

The old stallion gave her a brooding look. “See, you’re a smart one. You realize just how stupid this all is. Last thing ponies need to be fighting are other ponies.” He stomped his hoof. “But damnit, that’s how it is. Now, I’d like to kindly ask you folks to get the hell off my property so I can prepare for tonight, because I know they’re coming. They’ve come every night to try and flush us out, and I can tell you, tonight’s gonna be no different. We’ll shoot as many of them dead as we can.”

Willow shared a look with each of her companions—they all seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Range turned to the old stallion. “None of us are in any condition to leave. Willow’s got broken ribs, I’ve got a sprained hoof, Yew’s got a gash in her side that’s threatening to re-open, and Candy’s been shot through the neck.” He glanced towards Willow, then back to the stallion. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just need a place to stay.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Can we all get along if we give you back your guns?” She glared at the green mare. “But I’m keeping the bat!”

Sweet Celestia... her face was broken. Her eyes felt misaligned...

The old stallion seemed unsure of himself. He glanced between Range and Willow, then settled his eyes on Willow. “If you stay, then you’re helping us.”

Willow chuckled. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like you, old-timer.” She forced herself to sit up fully, wincing and gasping as she did so. A torrent of blood drizzled from her nose at the change in position, staining her white coat. “You’re an old stallion trying to protect his family, and I can respect that.” She glanced out the window, out towards the trees. “If there’s really a bunch of punks trying to kick you from your home in the middle of a zombie invasion, then I want to see this for myself. I have seen a lot of things since this thing started, and I haven’t liked very many of them. If these ponies are what you say they are, then I’d be glad to see them dead.”

The stallion’s ears perked in interest and hope sparkled in his eyes, but he questioned her nonetheless. “You talk like you’re the good guys.”

Willow shrugged. “We are.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” He cocked his head to the side, raising both eyebrows. “We’re all just trying to get by. You are, we are... they are. Some just go about it in different ways than others.” He glanced at Range and snorted before looking back to her. “Match Stick thinks he’s one of the good guys, and look at him.”

Willow blinked, his question slapping her across the face like a wet towel. Were they the good guys? Could they even be the bad guys? She remembered standing there, back in the hospital, turning off the power and watching as the life support systems for a dozen ponies blinked out one by one, transferring power away from the main building to the access tunnels below the hospital and dooming everypony inside to their death, just for their own escape.

Willow began to tremble. The REA ponies she’d killed—they’d only been following orders. They’d commandeered two skywagons, dooming at least a hundred ponies to death by pulling those wagons out of circulation for the evacuations. The pullers could have easily made another five runs.

...Were they the bad guys?

Candy answered for Willow. “You do what you have to to survive.”

The old stallion nodded once, never taking his eyes off Willow. After a moment, he turned away. “Well then, since we’re all peachy now, we might as well introduce ourselves.” He pointed towards himself. “Name’s Corn Husk. Call me Husk, since I named my daughter Corn and we can’t exactly have two of those.” He nodded towards the colt. “That there’s Fertile Soil, though he likes it better if you call him Fersil for some stupid reason.” He nodded towards the nearly-identical stallions. “And those two are Mud and Muck, my eldest grandsons and the best damn fieldhands you’ve ever seen.”

The one on the left raised his hoof. “I’m Mud, he’s Muck.”

“Hey,” the other declared. “You’re Muck and I’m Mud.”

“Oh shut up, Mud.”

“Make me, Muck.”

Husk sighed and rolled his eyes. “Both of you shut up before I brand you with your own names.”

Fersil broke away from his mother’s side and made his way up to Range. “What sort of a gun is that?” he asked, wide eyed.

Range blinked, then looked to the rifle on his back. “It’s a sharpshooting rifle designed for sport five years ago.” He smirked, sitting back and adjusting his glasses. “Shoots a fifty caliber round, bolt-action, operated through a bit system—accurate up to a quarter mile.” He glanced back at the tweaked barrel. “Well... at least it used to be.”

Willow tensed as Corn approached her and hurriedly checked to make sure the baseball bat was nowhere to be seen. Her face hurt just thinking about it. “Go away,” she said quickly, laying back down on her side and turning away.

Corn sighed and closed her eyes for a second, leaving Willow to wonder just what was going through her head. “Look... I’m sorry for hitting you with a bat... twice... okay, three times. You’ve got to understand, I was protecting my foals.”

Willow harumphed. “They’re hardly foals.” Her face... she didn’t even want to see what Corn had done to her face. Hopefully, a healing potion would be enough to fix it.

“They’ll always be my foals.” Corn moved around the bed until she sat in front of Willow. “You didn’t have a family, did you?” She specifically avoided looking at the left side of willow’s head.

Willow closed her eyes for a second, thinking of Sunny, the others. “No... not a real one.”

“Well, it’s a lot different when you’re looking at something that came from you. I’d die for any one of them in a heartbeat.”

Willow sighed. “I know that feeling. I... my friends are more important to me than I realize. When I saw Candy get shot in the neck, I—”

“You don’t need to say any more.” Corn shrugged. “I understand. You were protecting your friends. I was protecting my family. As long as we can agree not to kill each other, I think we’re gonna be okay.” She bit her lip, then lowered her head a little. “Husk wasn’t lying... about tonight. They’re going to be coming. If they come, you guys are gonna get caught up in this thing.”

Willow fixed her eyes on the mare. “Let them come. If they really are what you say they are, I’ll kill them.” She sighed. “I know you’ve got healing potions here. I can tell by looking at your teeth—you’re as old as my mother and your teeth are perfect; that’s what healing potions do. They fix teeth, even if you’re drinking them for something else.” She fought back a shudder. “I sent my friend to go find one, but you’re gonna go get me one, right now. I-I can feel it... you ruined my face... you won’t even look at me. I can’t even feel it!” She huffed, misting blood from her nostrils. “For your own safety, you bring one to me right now.”

Corn opened her mouth, closed it, then nodded. “Right.” Giving Willow once last look, she turned and headed for the door.

For a good while, Willow lay alone, listening to the others as they talked, then left one by one. Soon enough, the room fell silent, leaving Willow with nothing but her own pain and labored breathing. Fucking baseball bats. Out of everything she’d survived, it came down to a baseball bat that had done the best number on her.

“Willow?”

Willow groaned and rolled over. Apparently, there was still one more pony in the room, one who wasn’t content with letting her sleep. “Yes, Candy?” she asked quietly, rolling back over to face the white mare.

Candy sat a few feet from the bed, reclined on her haunches, eyes on the floor. “I just wanted to ask if you’re... you know, doing okay.”

Willow opened her mouth for the normal snappy retort, but something stopped her. Candy had no right to be asking if anypony was okay, not after what had happened to Cotton. There was no hiding it—those two had had a thing going. They’d started off enemies in Bottle of Progress, and somehow, along the way, they’d bonded. It would have been wonderful to see them get together, if not simply to be able to call them Cotton Candy.

“I’m fine, Candy...” Willow said after a moment. “How about you?”

The mare shrugged, shoulders rocking softly as she bit back the pain. Willow knew all too well how it felt to hold back. “You know... doing okay. Worried... worried about the others and—”

“Candy,” Willow interrupted with a small shake of her head. She would have reached out a hoof to put it on the mare’s shoulder had it been easier. “You’re not okay. Just stop trying to hold it in.”

Candy looked up, tears in her pink eyes. “I—Willow I don’t know what to do. P-part of me was hoping that... that when I got shot, I was going to die. This is too much. I mean, ever since this thing started, it’s just been too much.” She was sobbing now, flat out sobbing. “I watched my whole team get shot right in front of me, I pushed one of my friends out of a skywagon while they were still alive! I’ve been through all this with you guys and I just don’t know how any of you do it! Part of me wants to go back to the REA, part of me wants to stick with you guys and part of me just wants to die!”

Willow was reconsidering her advice. Maybe letting it all out wasn’t very good at this point in time, especially not to her. At this point, Willow was pretty sure that she was the worst therapist in Equestria. “Stay with us, Candy. Please. You know how many ponies that are still alive I’ve known as long as you? Four.” She forced a grin. “Remember when we first met?”

Candy actually chuckled, a grin breaking through her expression for a moment. “Yeah... I do.”

Willow forced herself to sit up a bit, purposefully keeping the side of her face that was... wrong, faced away from Candy and trying to speak as clearly as possible. “Well I swear, once we’re both in good shape again, and once we’re out of this mess, we’ll do that again, okay? You and me, a soft bed, and when it’s done, we’ll cuddle.”

Candy looked like she was the one who’d been hit with a bat, and for a minute Willow wasn’t sure why. it took a couple of seconds for the realization to hit her like a train. She just lost her marefriend and you’re tempting her with sex, you dolt! her head screamed at her. What in the princesses’ name is wrong with you!?

“C-candy,” Willow stammered, “I’m sorry.”

Candy gave her head a tiny shake and forced a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s okay... Willow.” She glanced up, fresh tears in her eyes. “I just really need a hug right now.”

Willow grinned, half from relief, half from amusement. “Well, I’m here. Just watch out for the blood and be careful of my ribs.”

With a nod and a tiny grin, Candy took a step forward and practically fell on Willow, but she was gentle about it, pressing her muzzle into the other mare’s neck and wrapping her forehooves around her shoulders.

Willow closed her eyes, running a hoof through Candy’s mane “It’s okay. Just do whatever it is you need to do to feel better, then go find Brick and ask him what’s taking so long with those damned healing potions.”

* * *

Everything about Ashfield looked intimidating. From the three rows of wire fence topped with razorwire all the way to the fifteen foot main wall, which was also topped with razorwire, the place was just plain intimidating. As if the fences weren't enough, a giant... birdcage... thing had been erected over and around the near-perfectly square block of gray-black steel and stone that was the prison itself. It seemed that the enclosure cage was in place to keep pegasi prisoners in the courtyard; it would also do wonders to keep pegasi zombies out.

What really baffled Sunny was the lack of zombies around the place. If he looked hard and counted close, he could spot a whole twenty, all of which were just walkers. No pegasus ambushes here.

As far as prisons went, Ashfield was in buttfuck nowhere. The closest town was a couple miles away, but calling it a town would have been like calling a slingshot a lethal weapon. The only access to the prison was by means of a dirt wagon trail cut through the forest. The trees and foliage seemed thickest around here as well. From the air, he couldn't even see the ground.

"Looks abandoned," Foresight mused, propping his forehooves on the navigation console to get a better look through the windscreen.

"What makes you think that?" Sunny returned, squinting into the distance. "No zombies?"

"Exactly." Foresight whistled quietly. "Unless they're all inside or something."

Sunny shuddered. "No thank you... And thinking of inside... just how in the hay are we supposed to get in?"

Foresight glanced to Sunny, then shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Do I look like the type of pony who'd know my way around a prison to you?"

Sunny shrugged and turned away. "Right."

"Yeah," Jade hissed playfully from where she sat in the front row. "I know you haven't been to prison. You'd have been somepony's cute little bitch on the first day."

Foresight flicked his ears, but otherwise seemed not to hear.

Sunny watched as the shape of the building grew before his eyes. "Well, we better figure out a way in soon. The pullers are getting tired and I don't feel like flying around in circles waiting for any nearby pegasus zombies to catch sight of us.

He turned away from the windscreen and looked back over the cabin. If he craned his neck, he could just see Moon's brown mane over the top of the back seat. His hoof tingled with the phantom memory of it colliding unceremoniously with her face. His father had taught him to never hit mares; it seemed rather silly to be remembering this now of all times, but his words had contained true merit. Mares did not take well to being clobbered in the face by the stallion whom they're convinced is supposed to be their mate.

He'd thought she was in bad shape after they'd lost Cloudstorm. Now... now he didn't even know what to call it. She wouldn't talk, wouldn't drink, wouldn't even look at anything specific. If the situation were much less dire, he would have gone out on a limb to say he'd knocked her brain loose.

Of course, he felt bad about hitting her in the heat of the moment, and sure he regretted it and wished that, somehow, it could be taken back, but he still agreed with his decision.

And to be honest, the loss of the others... especially Willow—hurt a whole lot more than the bruise on his right forehoof.

She was gone. After all they'd been through... after all they'd seen and done together, all the times they'd saved each other's lives... she was gone. As much as he tried to convince himself that she was out there, proving to be just as tough as she seemed and dishing out the pain, there was no denying the peril that she and the others had been in. There was no escaping hundreds of bloodcrazed pegasi. He'd watched the wagon dive through the trees.

...They'd all probably died on impact... At least those bastards hadn't been able to tear her apart bit by bit, grabbing and pulling and—

Sunny gagged and made a lunge for the window just in time to spew stomach bile down the side of the skywagon. Maybe if he'd had anything to eat the past day or two there would have been some sort of substance, but it was little more than half a mouthful of clear liquid.

They needed to land, and they needed food.

"Are you alright?"

Sunny pulled his head back into the cabin to see Snowglobe standing beside him, concern etched into her features. "Yeah, I'm fine... I was just thinking about—"

Snowglobe nodded. "I know... I can't believe it either." She sat back took a deep breath. "Sunny, the ponies from Desert Sage... they're just you and me now... well, and Moon, but—"

"Do you think she's going to be okay?"

Snowglobe folded her ears and threw a short glance over her shoulder. "You shouldn't have done that, Sunny."

"I know!" he exclaimed, sitting back and grasping the sides of his head with his forehooves. "I... she was trying to stop me from helping them. All she cared about was herself, and it made me mad."

Snowglobe sighed. "Sunny, she was worried for you."

"No, she wasn't," he said with a sudden rush of vigor. "She was worried for us. Having Willow out of the picture would have done wonders for her."

Snowglobe looked absolutely horrified. "Sunny!" she hissed under her breath, "how could you even think that!?"

"Because I've spent enough time around her to know how her brain likes to work. No way would she ever wrong a friend, but she's the type who'll sit back and let things go wrong if they benefit her, then get all depressy about it if it affects her in a negative way."

Snowglobe closed her jaw. "Sweet Celestia, Sunny, you're talking about Moon like you hate her guts."

Sunny closed his eyes and sighed. "I feel like she's only still around because she wants my tail." He huffed. "I mean, doesn't that seem a little extreme to you—stalking a stallion around during a zombie apocalypse? You guys told me the stories; she led an entire colony of ponies through Canterlot just to get to me, and that got them all killed."

Snowglobe swallowed uneasily and shrugged her shoulders. "To be fair, we'd heard that Baltimare was a safe haven... Look, Sunny. There's something about you that she loves; maybe it's your personality, maybe it's your good looks... Maybe it's that charming sense of naivety that you seem to possess, even after all you've been through, or your lighthearted attitude and the way you always look at the bright side. Or, maybe it's that little twitch of your right ear whenever you get nervous or the way your wings flutter at just the very tips when—

"Snowglobe..." Sunny blinked, wordless for the time being. Flustered? Most certainly. "We're talking about Moon here."

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, then seemed to snap out of it. "Right!" She sighed. "Anyways, Sunny, all I'm saying is that she tries so hard to impress you and make you like her. I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem is that—"

"There's no way in!" Foresight exclaimed with a stomp of his forehoof.

Sunny blinked and glanced out the window. He hadn't realized it, but while he and Snowglobe had been talking, they'd flown a full circle around the prison and were just starting into their second loop.

“There’s got to be a way in,” Sunny muttered to himself, moving to the window to peer over the rows and rows of steel bands that made up the cage around the building.

Loco snorted from behind him. “Sunny, it’s a damned high-security prison. It’s locked up tighter than a rich mare’s—”

“Okay, Loco, we got it,” Snowglobe interjected quickly. “No need to get colorful.”

Sunny took a step away from the window and looked back over the wagon. Everypony seemed interested except for Jade. The dark-coated pegasus mare was examining her forehooves, occasionally glancing up then pretending to have not made eye contact.

“Jade?” Sunny asked slowly, making his way over to her. Sage sat beside the mare, close to the window, but said nothing. Apparently, she was split between landing the skywagon and defending her marefriend.

The dark pegasus looked up, met his eyes for a second, then glanced away. “Yeah?”

"I know it must be hard, but we need to land. It's just a building. Whatever that place used to be—it's not that place anymore. Okay?"

Jade sighed. "You're not going to change my mind. But I also know that you're not going to leave me alone about it." Unfurling a wing, she leaned close to the window and pointed with the tip of her feather to a seemingly-indistinguishable part of the cage the front—or at least Sunny was sure was the front—of the prison.

"Okay..." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "That doesn't really help."

"Have the pullers fly towards it. There's a chip in the gate that interfaces with REA skywagons."

Sunny nodded to Foresight, who had been listening with his ears perked. The bispecticaled stallion nodded back and relayed that bit of info to the pulling team.

Turning back to Jade, he cocked a brow. "How do you know?"

Jade shrugged. "They flew me in and out of here four times for different court hearings. It doesn't take too long to catch on."

A grating buzz filled the cabin and Sunny perked his ears. Turning, he couldn't help but notice Ashfeild's very solid-looking metal cage, and how fast they were moving towards it.

Foresight hit a toggle switch on the console and a little red light on the panel turned to green. Ahead, just above what was fairly distinguishable as a gate, a green light flashed on.

Foresight nodded approvingly. "How'd you figure the place still had power?"

Sunny pulled his eyes and away from the gate as it started to rise and instead focused on Foresight. "I didn't."

The other stallion paled. "Well then... Lucky coincidence."

And just like that, they were in. He didn't need to provide any more instruction to the pulling team; the landing strip atop the prison was hard to miss.

There was nothing left to do now but cross his hooves and hope for the best.

"Sunny," Foresight said quietly.

Sunny turned in the direction of the stallion, wincing at the heavy jolt that came with the wagon touching down. "What is it?"

"If this prison is empty, then why do the systems still work if there's nopony to maintain the generators?"

"Maybe it's that group of mares pointing guns at us," Loco mused thoughtfully.

Sunny nodded. "Yeah, maybe— Wait what!?" Spinning, he looked out the window. Ten mares looked back at him, armed to the teeth and looking tough enough to to eat nails and piss vinegar.

His jaw wasn't the only to hit the floor.

The leader, he presumed, stepped forward, a megaphone levitating in her grasp.

"I don't know what in Celestia's name you vermin think you're doing here, but I'd suggest y’all get out here all lined up with your guns empty and your stallions ready and primed."

* * *

There wasn’t even any moonlight to see by. Midnight clouds hid the moon and stars, holding the cool, breezy night in complete black.

Willow stood a few steps down the hill from the front porch of the ranch house, breath slow and steady as she stared out into the dark. She could see, but nopony else could; good thing it was to their advantage.

To be honest, she could understand why Match Stick wanted the farmhouse as much as these ponies said he did. During the preparations, she’d helped Husk carry a barrel of lantern oil up from the cellar; the place had been stocked for a holocaust. Boxes and boxes of jarred and preserved fruits and vegetables lined the walls. The place had its own groundwater well and even a generator. The ponies living here had enough to feed themselves for another five years, easy.

Willow had seized a jar of spiced peaches for every member of her party, and sweet Celestia were they the best peaches she’d ever had. Husk didn’t know, but she had another four jars in her saddlebags right now.

It wouldn't kill them to share...

She had also been right about the healing potions—they’d had dozens. Much to the ponies’ protests, she’d guzzled two and a half of them to correct her face. Willow had refused to take a look at herself in the mirror, but once everything was fixed and fresh, and the bone in her face had taken on the proper shape—she shivered at the thought—she was feeling much better. Her ribs had been a little more touchy, but with some pushing and pulling—and screaming—they'd been properly realigned. They still felt rubbery and tingly from the aftereffects, but at least they weren't lacerating her insides. Yew had her Stitches out now and Range’s hoof was all better. What remained of Candy’s gunshot wound was nothing more than a pink scar.

And Husk and Corn would not stop smiling at her. It was like their presence was a godsend to the farmponies. To be honest, their glee looked a little malicious. It was starting to put her a little bit on edge. Nopony was happy about having to shoot other ponies, nopony.

But for now, things were actually looking up. Now, with her plan in motion, they might be able to avoid the shaft end of the deal for once. And if not... well, they were all back in good enough condition to run.

“It’s about time,” Corn whispered, shifting in the dark beside Willow. “It’s going to be wonderful to be able to relax when these freeloaders aren’t trying to kill us and steal our stuff.”

Willow nodded, turning her eyes to Corn. “Exactly. That’s why we’re going to kill them all at once.” The words left her mouth with a cruel simplicity, spoken without hesitation or afterthought... well, without much afterthought.

Corn shook her head and took a step away from Willow. “Your eyes... they’re like the ones on the crazies. What the hay is wrong with your eyes?”

Willow heaved a sigh. “I’m a hybrid of zombie and pony. Don’t ask how—it’s complicated. But that’s what I am. I got into the fray with the virus and wound up keeping the most useful bits from either side, particularly my sanity.”

“You mean there’s ponies that don’t change when they... you know, get bit?”

“One that I know of.” Willow shrugged her shoulders. “Now, we need to be quiet. They should be—” There, through the trees, she could pick out movement through the yellow haze. Anything within twenty feet she could see clearly, but anything beyond that looked like a dark picture with the contrast turned up just a little bit too high.

“What is it?” Corn whispered.

Willow slapped a hoof over the mare’s mouth and and narrowed her eyes. “They’re coming. Remember, this is all in the presentation. I want to at least give them a chance before we wipe them out.”

Corn narrowed her eyes. “But—”

She pointed her forehoof towards a spot in the grass. "Go, get ready."

Willow grimaced as she settled back down to wait for them to draw closer. If only she could really see herself right now. She was standing in the dark, ready to slaughter a group of ponies she didn’t even know on the whim of five ponies who’d shot at her and her friends and a mare who’d beaten her face in with a bat. Maybe she hadn't kept her sanity in the conversion.

One by one, the ponies emerged from the trees. They didn't bother hiding their presence. They laughed and joked, pushing and cursing at once another as they tromped in loose formation across the field. From here, Willow could count at least fifteen lit cigarettes and ten oil lanterns. Lucky for her, they weren’t sporting any flashlights; that would have made things harder.

“Yoo-hoo!” a stallion called, earning a chuckle from the ponies around him. “Farm ponies. You in there?”

"Lay it off!" another hissed.

Dead silence. Willow stood as still as a statue, keeping her eyes shielded from them with a forehoof. Last thing she wanted them to see was their soft glow or the reflection of their own lamplight in them.

“Think they packed up?” a mare asked, her muttered question carrying easily on the still air.

“Doubt it,” the stallion who’d yelled before replied. “They’re not that smart. They’re probably trying to trick us or something. Keep your eyes out.”

Willow didn’t like what she was seeing one bit. There weren’t twenty of them; there were fifty mares and stallions of all different age and shape making their way across the field, spread out in random groups and clusters.

“You said there were only twenty!” Willow hissed to the concealed shape of Corn.

Corn looked back at Willow and shrugged her shoulders.

“And keep an eye out for traps too!” another mare called. “Who was that stallion that got his leg snapped off at the knee in a bear trap last time?”

“You mean the one we had to shoot?” a stallion answered.

“Yeah, him.”

“Swift Sweep, I think it was. Marefreind threw a fit.”

"Can we not talk about him?" a mare muttered somewhere from the back of the group. "You're salting old wounds."

Willow grimaced. This wasn’t looking good at all. The males reminded her of a group of stallions that used to hang around in the park and wolf whistle at her as she walked by, so the urge to crush their faces into their skulls was quite present.

She couldn’t exactly see them with a forehoof covering her eyes, but she could hear them. Closer they came, either unseeing or uncaring. When the lead pony was no more than a guestimated ten feet from her, she uncovered her eyes to have a good look at him.

He was a unicorn, tall and surprisingly handsome. His coat was stone gray, rather well-kemp for a scavenger, and his long, crimson mane hung down the left side of his neck like silk, complimenting the crooked smirk he was shooting to the pony beside him. He wore a battle saddle fitted with both a shotgun and a rifle Willow didn’t know enough about to identify. Judging from the matchstick on his rump, this was the pony she was due to have a talk with.

And he’d spotted her too. His confident stride faltered for a second and his eyes stretched wide. No doubt he couldn’t see anything but a pair of glowing eyes. Willow couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as he rubbed each eye with a forehoof, then turned around and snatched a lantern from the jaws of the pony behind him. Holding it out, he advanced, eyes wide at first, but quickly narrowing once she came into view.

"I almost shot you." He gave her the most confused glare a pony could muster. "You know how to find zombies in the dark, don't you? Wait... who the hell are you?”

Willow smiled. Sweet Celestia, his voice was magic on the ears; it deep, but not so much so that it rumbled, instead flowing smooth and casually from his mouth with seemingly-practiced clarity.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged her shoulders and arched her back, coaxing a pop or two from the joints that brought a sigh to her lips. “Just a traveler.” Willow glanced to her side, but Corn was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. “Is this your farmhouse?”

Match Stick took a few steps closer and sat back, placing the lantern on the grass between them. “Your eyes... are they—”

“Yes. Don’t ask.” Willow flicked her tail and tossed her Crimson mane out of her eyes with a shake of her head. “What’re you doing here?”

"You look like a zombie. How are you talking to me?"

Willow deadpanned. "Magic."

The stallion shot her deadpan right back. “I’m gonna ask you again; who are you?” He raised one eyebrow at her, the rest of his gang falling in behind him and muttering amongst themselves. They actually looked well-organized, and much cleaner than she’d imagined them to.

Willow sighed and rolled her eyes. “My name’s Willow, if you must know. Mind sharing yours?”

“Match Stick.” He glanced to the left, then the right. “Where’s the family that lived here?”

She shrugged her shoulders for a second time. “Around. I think they went out to town to pick up a carton of milk.”

For a second, Match’s eyes seemed to wander. “I miss milk...” He blinked, then gave his head a shake. “Hey, stop screwing with me.” He took a step towards her, showing his teeth. “If you killed them, then you’d better hope you have a good escape plan.”

Willow leaned back, raising one hoof in the air and glancing around at the surrounding trees. Her eyes flicked back to the farmhouse, then once again towards Match. “What do you care?”

The edge must have shown in her voice, because something in Match’s steel blue eyes hardened. “Because they had a colt.” He snarled, then nodded back to the others. “Kill her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Willow threw her hooves up as two ponies moved forward, with knives no less.

The first one took no time in lunging at her, of course, she was sloppy about it. Willow clobbered the mare over the head with her forehoof and smacked the knife out of her mouth. The other pony took the opening in Willow’s defenses to lunge at her face, but she turned before he could reach her and caught the blade in her teeth. His eyes widened as he stared into Willow’s and he attempted to pull the blade free, but she gave a jerk of her head and snapped the steel off at the hilt. While he was still distracted, she spat the piece of metal into his face where the flat of the blade bounced off his brow, then headbutted him right between the eyes. With a grunt, the stallion staggered backwards and fell onto his rump.

There mare was back on her hooves by now, but one look from Willow and she was retreating behind Match Stick while more ponies rushed forwards.

“Wait!” Match called, holding one forehoof out and seizing the advance of the others. He cocked his head at Willow, rolling his tongue in thought. “There's a gun on your leg, and you're a unicorn. You could have killed both of them, but you didn’t.”

“Well, yeah!” Willow spluttered. She bit down on the end of her tongue and grimaced—the blade had nicked it and she could taste the coppery tinge of her own blood. “What do you think you would have done if I’d killed two of your gang?”

Match shrugged. “Shot you in the head.”

“Exactly. Now why the hell did you send those two at me with knives when you've got two perfectly good guns?"

He shrugged and smirked at her. "Save ammo." The smirk was gone a second later. "Now, I'm not gonna stand here and play with you. What did you do with the ponies who lived here?"

"They're fine, trust me." She scoffed. "Like you should care. You're the one who wants to kill them."

Matchstick glowered at her. "Damnit, you've talked to Husk, haven't you?" He sat back, taking up a casual position that contrasted Willow's pounce-ready stance. "That old gizzard's talking out his flankhole."

Willow cocked one brow. "Are you or are you not trying to take their food?"

He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he was glaring at the top of his head. "We're starving out here and they've got more food in there than they can eat." He stomped his forehoof. "That food is going to go bad before they can eat it all. They have a root cellar in there, you know. It's nearly as big as the house, underground! Husk was a paranoid old shit. He thought the griffons were going to attack so he stocked up."

She shook her head. "He took me down in the cellar... I didn—"

He silenced her with a look. "Don't treat me like an idiot!"

"Well you're doing it to me!"

He continued. "My colt used to play with his grandson. I've been in that cellar. I know what they have down there."

Willow didn't trust herself to say any more. Already, doubt was working its way into her mind. These weren't the same ponies Husk and Corn had told her about. And she was looking their leader in the eye, ready to give the order to butcher them.

Just hit the button to the left of her right forehoof; it wouldn’t be hard. Just hit it and be done with it.

Her eyes darted to the trees on the left. Three gun barrels glinted death in the wan lamplight. Behind her, concealed under the porch, there were two more. The others had moved in behind for the flank. It wouldn't take long for eight automatic rifles to reduce fifty blind ponies to meat.

Willow licked her lips, her tongue feeling a bit dry. "Corn's husband... what did you do to him."

Match Stick sighed. "We shot him. I'd like to say that it was an accident, but it wasn't. There was tension between us. As a scare tactic, I announced in front of the family, and all my own ponies, that we'd shoot whoever left the house. I didn't think any of them would have any reason to leave in the first place, so it was an empty threat... It was dusk. One of our scouts saw him approaching camp and put a bullet through the side of his head. I think he wanted to negotiate with me."

She bit her lip. "Well, was he armed?"

"Yes. He had a rifle and four extra magazines."

Willow's tail twitched. Just give the signal, a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered. The more you think about it, the more you're going to regret it, now give the signal!

She found herself staring into the stallion's eyes. They were the same color as hers used to be. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. What in Celestia's name was she doing!? No. No. No. No! NO! This was slaughter!

Match Stick was looking around now, his eyes scanning the dark trees. He took a shaky breath, then turned back to Willow. "This is an ambush, isn't it?" There was legitimate fear in his voice.

Willow nodded, biting her tongue.

"You're lined up with the others in the trees. Husk knew we had fifty ponies. He wouldn’t be willing to do this unless he knew he had us covered! That puts anywhere from six to eleven guns from every angle on us!"

Match Stick was one smart cookie.

Willow leaned back on her haunches and raised her forehooves. "I'm sorry... I-I didn't know it was like this. They told me you were a bunch of bloodthirsty psychopaths. They helped us, they fed us. What else was I supposed to do?"

The gray stallion was glancing more and more at the surrounding trees. The other members of his party seemed on edge too, muttering amongst each other and checking their weapons. "Please," he whispered. "Don't do this. Let us leave. I know every one of these ponies' names and I don't want to see them cut down because of a mistake I made.

"They're waiting for my signal." Willow gulped. "Turn around and leave. I don't want this blood on my hooves. I don't want any part of this."

Match Stick nodded his head in self-reassurance, making as small of a scene of possible of checking the safeties on his weapons. "Come on," he stated in a voice that carried through the night, tossing his head back over his shoulder and turning to face his group. "We're leaving."

The mare who stood to the right of him cocked her head to the side and shot him a conflicted look. "Match, you said we'd take the place tonight. We can't eat any more grass. We need food, real food."

He silenced her with a look. "Not tonight. Trust me."

Willow breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing!?" somepony hissed from the shadows.

Was it too late to take back that sigh of relief? She was starting to think that she was really unlucky.

Corn came rushing out of the bushes, her hooves surprisingly silent in the grass for how fast she was running. She was lucky none of Match's gang were noticing her.

"You can't let them go!" she continued. "They'll just come back once you leave. They want to kill us!"

"No, they don't." Grimacing, she watched Match Stick rally his ponies up and wave off towards the trees. "They're just hungry."

"But it's our food!"

Willow rounded on Corn. "I know it's your food, you greedy old hag! It's more food than you could eat on your own."

Corn raised one hoof and glared, an expression of disgust crossing her face. "You sound just like him!"

Match Stick turned his head back to face Willow, his ears perked, then he spotted Corn. Immediately, his eyes widened and he went into an all new rush of trying to get his ponies to move.

Corn had seen his eyes fall on her as well. She turned to Willow and threw her hoof in his direction. "Call it, now!"

Willow snarled. "Those are my friends out in that field too. I am not ordering them to kill fifty innocent ponies!"

"Innocent?" Corn hissed back.

"Yes, innocent. They don't deserve to die."

“They want to steal from us!”

“They want to share with you!”

“It’s our food though!”

Willow fought the urge to scream. “It’s ponies like you!” she hissed at Corn. “It’s ponies like you who make Equestria such a terrible place! You could keep all of them alive for an entire year with what you have in there! For all you know, this could be over in a year! I know you don’t care, but I don’t want fifty dead ponies on my head!”

Silence.

Suddenly, Corn sprang forward. At first, Willow though the made was going for her, but a second later she realized the mare's intentions.

Her forehooves were already half-raised to protect her face, but Corn wasn't aiming for Willow; she was aiming for the hoof switch concealed in the grass between her forehooves. Willow's mouth opened in silent terror as she threw her shoulder towards Corn. It didn't do any good.

Corn's hoof came down on the switch, which let out the most menacing click Willow had ever heard.

A soft hum filled the air, and a second later four floodlights lit up the night, two bolted to each side of the porch, the other two hung in the trees directly across from Match's group. Stuck in the very center, the group would be completely blinded.

And that was the signal.

Match turned and and fixed his eyes on the spot Willow had been, his eyes dilated to mere pinpricks against the light that lit his face. His mouth hung slightly agape, his ears folded flat. He shook his head, disbelief filling his features.

Willow didn't know who fired the first shot, but it blew out the brains of the mare standing next to him, coloring the left half of Match's face crimson.

Muzzles flashed, rifles chattered, and screams filled the air. The fifty ponies trapped in the circle of light fired back blindly, cutting the air to ribbons and hitting nothing.

Willow fixed her eyes on Corn, who was sitting there looking as smug as could be. "What have you done?"

She grinned. "Saved us."

Match Stick was aiming at something, and Willow realized with a start that she could have looked right down the barrel of his rifle. The floodlights were casting both her and Corn's shadows over field, which meant he could see them.

Willow didn't move. As she stared at him, watching in her peripherals as one after the other went down in a mist of blood, she wanted to do nothing more than walk up to him and apologize. She could hear the distinct sounds of each of her friend's weapons. The loud rattle of Brick's chaingun echoed over the hills and penetrated the trees. Candy's duel rifles had a very distinct chatter, and there was no missing the deep echo of Range's markspony rifle.

How would she tell them?

Match Stick's rifle flashed and Willow waited for the bullet to come. Celestia damn her for this. Hot, sticky blood sprayed her face and Willow closed her eyes. It didn't hurt; it was actually relieving, being put down for her wrongdoings...

Wait.

Willow opened her eyes.

Wait...

The bullet hadn't been hers.

She couldn't feel anything but pity as she looked down at Corn's twitching body, a messy hole torn through the right side of her forehead, blood and brain matter fauceting from the back of her skull.

Her eyes went back to Match Stick. He stood there, somehow managing to look right into her eyes. His companions screamed and fell all around him, the sheer amount of gunsmoke filling the air outlining the murderous beams of light cast by the floodlights.

He shook his head.

"Stop firing!" Willow hollered, trying to make her voice heard over the battle. "STOP FIRING!" Her eyes scanned the grass at her hooves and she mashed the toggle off switch on the floodlights. Even without the spotlights, the muzzle flash still lit the clearing.

There were only about thirty or so of Match's ponies left, and that number was dropping every second. Those that weren't shooting were running for the trees were bedded down in the grass or hiding behind the ventilated bodies of comrades. A mare who stood near Match Stick in the center was pulling a grenade launcher from the jaws of a dead stallion. She yanked it out of his grass, then aimed it at a spot near the base of a tree where Much and Mud had bedded down. The weapon thumped, and an explosion lit up the night, providing just enough light to see the two stallions blasted separate ways into the night.

Willow had liked those two. They’d been funny and cheerful, sort of the comic relief of everything.

The mare loaded a new grenade and took aim at another spot amongst the trees, but before she could get the shot off, a well-aimed bullet ripped her throat out. The mare whirled around and fired at random, the discharge knocking her off her hooves and into a writhing heap in the grass.

Willow ducked as the smoking projectile whooshed over her head and smashed through the front door window on the house behind her. The resulting explosion blew out every window on the first floor and ripped the front door clean off its hinges. Fire blossomed from the center and took to the dry wood like a fish to water, crackling and snapping hungrily.

Willow turned away from the horror out in the field and back towards the house. "Candy, Ember, get out from under the porch! The whole house is going up!" She charged for the house, shouldering a snarling zombie out of the way that'd been charging at her from behind. Running up to the porch, she ripped off the wooden trim with her teeth and reached forward to drag Candy—who was still aiming down the sights—out from under the porch. "And stop shooting!"

Ember followed Candy out, looking a little shell shocked.

...Wait.

She'd knocked a zombie out of the way. What in Celestina's name were zombies doing here?

She turned back to the field. The raging fire climbing up through the house behind her was doing an adequate job of lighting the field from here.

And there were zombies everywhere. They filled the skies and poured from the trees at the bottom of the hill, rushing their way up the hill like water.

Yew hadn't been kidding. Gunfire really did attract them.

"...Something wants me dead."

Candy walked up beside Willow. "The others..."

Range, Yew... Brick. They were out there.

By now, Match Stick's ponies were getting themselves together, though there were only about twenty of them left. Willow wasn't sure what kept her from flopping over on the ground and bursting into tears, but her stomach was so heavy that she was sure it was about to slip down into one of her legs. Husk and Corn... they'd tricked her. They'd used her and her friends as a tool for murder. She’d talked her friends into it. Brick had been skeptical, but she'd talked him into it. How was she supposed to explain to him that he'd been gunning down ponies who were just trying to survive?

Match Stick was walking slowly towards the farmhouse. His eyes were open, but vacant, reflecting the flame. Behind him, what was left of his group started to fall to zombie hooves and teeth.

A silver mare with a blonde mane screamed around the bit of a battle saddle as she turned herself in a circle, strafing the hordes with two automatics. One launched at her from the side and snapped down on her neck. She went down under a pile of them, kicking and crying. The unicorn stallion next to her turned and made a dash in the direction of the farmhouse, but he didn't make it more than ten feet before a bulky earth pony mare grabbed him by the tail and pulled him back into the fray. Last thing Willow saw him do was pull a homemade-looking thing from a hook on his barding a flip to cap off. A second later there was a sharp crack that scattered the bodies all around the stallion and filled the air with the stench of charred hair.

"Willow," Candy hissed urgently, "we need to get going!"

She shook her head. "N-not without the others."

Candy looked out over the field and bit her lip. "Willow... if they're out there—"

"Shut up!" she bellowed, giving the striped made a shove that knocked her onto her side. Willow took a few steps forward, burning ash from the farmhouse raining all around her and lighting the occasional fire in a dry patch of grass. This couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t.

“It’s not fair!” she screamed over the field. She hardly even noticed Match Stick shake himself out of his daze and rush to help the small group of ponies that was still holding their own amongst the sea of infected. "You've done this to me my entire life!" She pounded both forehooves on the ground and screamed. "Just once, PLEASE! Just once. YOU OWE ME!"

Willow had never really considered herself a believer in fate, but screaming at the higher powers was a really good method of venting.

And then she spotted them. The massive shape of Brick was unmistakable, even with the light from the fire washing out most of her night vision. Willow shot one look back at Candy, then bolted for the stallion. He was just a little ways down the hill, just before the deadly game of cat and mouse that was taking place. It almost reminded her of days out on the playground, the nerds and wimps getting their flanks handed to them by the big mean jocks, only now the nerds and geeks had guns and the jocks were a lot more hungry.

Brick was dragging a pony away from the fighting, one who didn't seem too happy about being dragged away. The gray stallion, Range, kicked and fought with Brick the entire time, screaming and thrashing as he grabbed and tore up large patches of grass.

"Brick!" Willow called, sprinting up to the stallion and skidding to a stop beside him.

"Let go of me!" Range cried, trying to unclip the saddlebags that Brick was using to drag him. "She's still out there. I have to get her. I said I wouldn't leave her!"

Brick shook his head, the action jostling the gray stallion in his grasp.

"Who?" Willow insisted. There was only one answer to be had... "Yew?"

Range started a whole new round of thrashing, and with a good heave, snapped the buckle around his belly that held his saddlebags. Before Willow or Brick could react, he'd scampered to his hooves and distanced himself, turning to face them. "She's all I've got left."

What little organization the survivors had been maintaining was gone now. Pegasi swooped in from the sky, dropping down on anypony too preoccupied to watch their heads. Those that remained had scattered, running in any any and every direction. It was ten on one, and a pony was lucky if they didn't have more than ten on their tail. For just a brief second, Willow caught a glimpse of Husk and Fersil disappearing into the trees at the bottom of the hill.

There was no sight of Yew.

Willow took a step towards Range, fixing her eyes on the stallion. He wasn't scared—he was absolutely terrified. His legs shook and his chest heaved as he hyperventilated. "Range, if you go out there, you're not coming back."

He took a step backwards to counter her step forwards. "I can't leave Yew out there. I said if we went, then we'd go together." He turned sideways, looking across the churning masses.

She shook her head. The tears just wouldn't come, but she wanted them to. "Range, I can't lose any more ponies! I just can't!"

He forced a grin to his face, managing to display at is genuine despite the slight tremble in his jaw. "I'm gonna come back... with Yew."

Just one tear, please! "But you can't promise that." Willow's ears folded flat to her head.

Range shook his head. "No, I can't."

And then he was gone. Willow watched the stallion gallop across the field into the fray, where he quickly became lost in the writhing mess of havoc. It was like trying to watch a single ant in the middle of a frenzy of hundreds.

"He's—" She turned to Brick. The stallion was running right towards her. Before she could get off even so much as a yelp, he'd ducked his head and wedged it against her belly. With one swift movement, he tossed her onto his back and was off.

Willow held on to his neck for dear life as he galloped at speeds that a pony carrying another pony and a light machine gun should not be able to gallop.

Past the farmhouse they went, and past Ember and Candy, who scrambled to keep up. A few zombies got the cheeky idea to follow, but Willow made quick work of them with her pistol. Surprisingly, she was pretty good at levitating and firing a pistol from a charging stallion's back.

They were heading up the hill, towards the east and towards the much thicker foliage of the trees that the infected seemed to have so much trouble navigating.

But they weren't the only ones. Maybe about thirty feet ahead and a little bit to the right, two ponies were running from a small cluster of infected that hadn't been kind enough to let them run in peace, and the infected were gaining.

They were both stallions, one of which Willow didn't recognize, but the other...

She pointed her hoof ahead and to the right, magically reloading her pistol. "Let's take a detour!"

Brick turned his head back to give her a terribly unamused look.

"Please..."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, steering off to the right. Willow readied her pistol and tried to steady herself. It shouldn't be too hard to brain eight zombies while riding a stallion at full speed, right?

The stallion Willow didn't recognize, an earth pony, had his head twisted awkwardly back over his shoulder to fire a pistol at his pursuers. Willow had learned from experience that the number one rule of running full pelt was to always keep an eye of where your hooves were landing; it was because of that experience that she wasn't all too surprised when the stallion stepped in a gopher hole and snapped his foreleg just below the knee.

She did her best not to look at him as he tumbled to a stop. Four zombies stayed back for the feast, the rest kept going.

Brick sprang nimbly around them, the steady thump-a-thump of his hooves breaking for a short second as he made the adjustment. There was only a good ten feet between them and the pack of zombies now, and that was closing pretty fast. Brick was outrunning zombies!

Willow took aim with the pistol. "Hey Brick," she said with a laugh, the off-mood humor coming to her in the heat of the moment. "We're chasing zombies!" She loosed off one shot after the other, taking a moment to steady herself before each one. Down went a pink mare, then a red stallion and pegasus with only one wing.

The stallion on the run glanced over his shoulder as Brick's thundering hoofsteps neared, and his jaw dropped as his eyes fell on Willow and her wide, semi-insane smile. Willow cackled and waved at Match Stick. "Need an assist!?"

Brick butted the zombie directly in front of him aside and Willow put a bullet in its flank before it could even hit the ground. Hey, they made a pretty good team; maybe she should hop on Brick's back and go on zombie shooting sprees more often—it could be a new sport.

Things had deteriorated down the hill. The survivors were either gone or dead, which left the dead and wounded lying in the field open for the feast. The farmhouse was a torch in the night, the flame rising three stories up into the air before tapering off to shimmering heat against the midnight sky, showering hot ash to the earth and lighting smaller fires that burned their way across the grass in Dalmatian patches.

Nothing remained but the mindless, and the mindless wanted more.

Right as Brick was galloping his way right on past Match Stick, Willow lunged to the side. Keeping one hoof around Brick's neck, she used the other to grab Match Stick by a strap on his barding. The stallion yelled as he was hefted into the air, his hooves kicking wildly.

"How're you doing that!" he gasped, dangling there beside Brick as Willow held him out with a single forehoof.

"Magic." It was a lot harder to hold him than she would have guessed. Even zombie strength wasn't meant for holding a full-sized stallion out to the side with one hoof. Brick didn't seem to be liking the extra weight either. His steady gallop had turned into an unsteady stagger. He panted and huffed, shaking his head from side to side; Willow could feel him starting to tremble. She supposed even Brick had his limits.

Match Stick didn't fight for long. He kicked and struggled for a moment more, then went limp. "I hate you." He turned his head towards Willow and she almost dropped him right then and there, though the act would have doomed him to death by pursuing zombie. "You killed them."

Brick was hacking and staggering by the time he reached the treeline. He stumbled and tripped through the undergrowth for another minute or two, then dropped, spilling Willow off his back and across the ground. Match stick just sort of flopped over. His eyes were open, but his muscles were limp. He was probably in shock. Who wouldn't be after that?

Candy and Ember tore through a bush to the left and almost missed the three ponies lying on the ground. Candy threw a glance back over her shoulder and managed to catch sight of Willow. Without warning, she planted her forehooves against the forest floor to stop herself and Ember ploughed right into the back of her.

The two of them went down a few feet away, panting and gasping.

"Are we..." Willow desperately tried to gain enough breath to speak. "Are we... far enough... away?"

"Yeah," Candy choked back. "They... went the other.... way. Went after... some... of the others."

Willow groaned, then let the sound taper off into a dry chuckle. "Oh fuck me." She picked her head up for a second, then let it flop back down. "For the love of Luna... they're dead... They're all dead. Shit, and it's all my fault too."

She managed to push herself to her forehooves, sitting on her rump. It was dark here, really dark. If it hadn't of been for her eyes, what little moonlight that was poking through the cloud would only provide enough light to see for a dozen or so feet.

They were all there, lying around her, breathing in the night air and exhaling their excess luck.

Wait... there were only three—Candy, Ember, Brick, where was Match St—"

The gun barrel that pressed itself against the side of her head quickly answered that question.

Willow closed her eyes and sighed. "You have got to be fucking kidding me..."

Candy picked her head up. "What're you—" Her eyes fell on Match Stick. "Oh..." She flopped back down on her side, uncaring as far as he body language went.

"You killed them," Match hissed, his breath tickling her ear as his hoof awkwardly held the pistol to the side of her head. "You killed them, all on the word of some old fart camped out in an old house in the woods."

Just hearing the words spoken boiled her belly and knotted her throat. It was that feeling you got when you screwed up big—the buzzing panick in the back of your skull combined with the lead belly feel, only it was that times a thousand. If she could have cried it all out, or simply exploded into a hundred different pieces right on the spot, she'd be happy. Both options had their own appeal.

But getting shot in the side of the head by a gang leader seeking revenge wasn't what she considered a good end.

"It wasn't me who gave the signal," she hissed back through clenched teeth. "It was Corn, the mother, who had a foal, who you shot in the head!" She winced as the barrel persisted to massage her skull.

"You still agreed to do it!"

"In the beginning!" she protested.

"So, what—" The stallion's voice gushed with malice. "—you're okay with slaughtering ponies as long as they're the bad guys." He snorted. "Here's a little newsflash, Willow, you're not any better than the rest of us. Your self-convinced sense of righteousness is the entire reason they're dead. All of them!"

Willow didn't speak. Trying to keep her breathing level, she glanced around at the others. Candy was examining her hooves, Ember was staring at a tree and pretending not to listen, but her ears were perked, and Brick was looking right at her.

There was a very angry stallion pressing a gun to her head. And they didn’t seem to care!

The look on the brown stallion's face scared her. His eyes were wide, jaw slack, ears folded. Slowly, his eyes drifted over to the chaingun he'd worn for as long as she could remember.

"How're you gonna tell them, huh?" Match Stick snapped, grinding the gun barrel into her flesh. "How're you gonna tell your little friends that you made them gun down a group of ponies who just wanted compromise!?"

Now Brick wouldn't meet her eye. None of them would. She glanced between her three companions, words tied down in her throat. Candy had finished looking at her hooves and was now putting every ounce of attention in her being towards fiddling with the bolt on one of her rifles. Ember wasn't beating around the bush; she'd just plain turned her back.

"W-why'd you guys let me decide!?" Willow managed to stammer out. "I'm not the only one who's allowed to have ideas! You could have spoken up any time!"

Still no response.

Match Stick gave her head another push with the gun. "Now you know how it feels. They looked up to you. They always do... until you get them all killed with a stupid choice." He snorted. “What have I got to live for now? I lost my colt the day it happened, my wife a week after that. And that group, those ponies you decided were the bad guys was all I had left!” She could feel him start to tremble, shaking and twitching. “How’d you like to know how it feels!? I feel dead! I feel EMPTY!”

And just like that, she snapped.

"SHUT UP!" She spun and snatched the gun away from him with her teeth. One good bite from her jaws crushed the slide with an almost pathetic snap and a creak and she spat the weapon to the ground. "I can't be perfect!" Before match Stick could react, she threw her head forward and felt the rather meaty squishy-crunchy feel of his muzzle under the assault of her forehead.

"I didn't want any of this!"

Match Stick seemed to fall to the ground in slow motion, blood pouring from both nostrils as his eyes rolled back in his head. Willow was on him in a second, stomping, kicking, feeling his flesh break, bones snapping under her hooves' influence.

"All!"

She swung a forehoof towards his head. With a gasp, he threw up his own hoof to protect from the blow.

"I wanted!"

She smacked his hoof aside and brought the other one down on his face, ignoring his cries and the all-too-familiar scent of blood.

"To!"

A misaimed blow crushed his windpipe with a cry and a gurgle from the stallion his eyes rolling to the top of his skull.

"Do!"

His horn snapped off near the base with a crackle and an agonized scream from Match Stick.

"Was!"

Blood was pouring from his mouth now staining the gray coat around his mouth red.

"Help!"

It was pooling in his face now, the flesh on his muzzle split and torn to reveal the bone and sinew below.

"MY!"

One last hit pulped his one remaining eye.

"FRIENDS!"

Crunch...

Panting, heaving, she stepped away from Match Stick's lifeless form, the sick, warm feeling of his blood coating her chest and both forehooves. "I HATE YOU!" she screamed at him... no, it.

"Willow..." Candy whispered. "I... You killed him."

Willow shook her head. "N-no. I-I-I just b-bruised him a little bit... taught h-h-him a lesson." She glanced down at her hooves, gagging at the sight of the grayish-pink goop on her hooves and the occasional sliver of bone that had mixed with the sickening concoction clinging to her fetlocks.

Candy took a step back, checking one of her rifles, most likely to see if it was loaded.

Willow took a step back as well, shaking her head. "I don't... But—I-I can't..."

The world was starting to spin, the trees starting to dance and blur as they melted into each other.

"I'm sorry... I... what's wrong with me?"

The world was sideways. Everypony was standing on the wall, which just so happened to be the forest floor. Funny, she could see the red and white mare standing in front of her moving and her mouth, but couldn't hear a thing.

And the forest floor was moving towards her pretty fast.

Comments

[Sorren]

4422799 Huh. What's that? I don't see an error.

[Monochromation]

"I don't know what in Celestina's name you vermin think you're doing here, but I'd suggest y’all get out here all lined up with your guns empty and your stallions ready and primed."

Mistakes were made.

Many, many mistakes have been made up to this point, but that last bit just solidifies my belief that the prison is the biggest mistake so far.

Edit: Celestina sounds like a wonderful mare. Any relation to Celestia?

[Soldierboa]

I can't believe how you manage to keep this exciting and awesome everytime, nice. Few spelling mistakes throughout, but as thrilling as ever.

[AttomicRainBoom]

And the bad ass levels increase. :)

[Sorren]

4423136
4423520

Okay, look, I really bust my ass to get these chapters out. I'm glad you enjoy them, but the reason they take months is because I have nobody helping me. Every chapter receives three editing sweeps before I even post it, and I still miss things. That's almost 60,000 words of reading per chapter.

That is why it takes a month.

If you have any more comments about the occasional spelling mistake, PM me about it. I am really, really tired of seeing nothing but comments about how I fucked up and missed another error in my bullshit-massive chapters.

[SFyr]

Heck yeah, update. And quite a lot happened this time around, wow. I love that some of my favorite ponies are still alive (for now), but it definitely seems like they're falling apart more and more, eh? The prison bit... should be interesting. Priming your stallions sounds like it could be fun, or really unpleasant.
Yaaay, atypical rape.
I'm still loving the gradual, action-packed descent into madness and suspension of clearly defined moral lines by the way. ... I think Willow is approaching the deep end with greater and greater velocity.

So yeah, awesome chapter !!
I'm still impressed by the sheer word count of each update, haha.
Good luck with future writing~♪

[Serious Contemplation]

Willow's crazy is definitely not the typical kind, which is pretty cool, it really shows she DIDN'T only get the best of both worlds. It really seems that it's only her strong personality keeping her from killing and eating everyone.

I'm unsure who Willow counted when she told Candy that she only knew four other ponies as long as her. Was it the four from Desert Sage? Or the other four that survived the crash? If the former, shouldn't she be counting Sage and Jade as well since she met them before Candy?

Poor Moon. If Sunny bruised his hoof on her face, then ouch I don't want to see her face, she might need to gulp 2 and 1/2 healing potions herself. Between her and Willow I honestly don't know who's having a worse time, overall.

[Sorren]

4423767 I used the term bruise in a more metaphorical sense. Nonetheless, the emotional damage is the real hurt.

[Monochromation]

4423634
Sorry, man. I'll do that next time. I didn't mean to be rude, I just...

I just ought to start over there. Sorry again. I understand you must be tired, and I really appreciate all of the work you put into this story. I could never maintain a story with such, as you put it, bullshit massive chapters. I swear I had only the best intentions, but I'm kind of in a cycle of sleep deprivation right now and I realize I may come off a bit...snarky. I'll be a tad bit more eloquent in the future, and I'll use the PM's should I see anything that could be fixed.

I can't wait to see how the team deals with the consequences of their mistakes this time.

Best of luck, man.

[SapphireGemstone]

Truely, Sorren, you continue to amaze me... Not only do you create every single chapter of this story by yourself, the amount of feels and action you manage to pack into every chapter is just... extraordinary. And part of the appeal your story has is that, at every chapter's end, I find myself completely dumb-founded and gobsmacked by all the emotions I feel, yet I /have/ to read each new chapter the moment you put one out. Like an emotional rollercoaster that does it's run, stops for a while, and then starts all over again on a completely new track each time.

No other story has ever made me feel this way before, and with this level of talented writing, I don't think anypony should have the right to complain about a few tiny typo's here and there. Nopony's perfect, but your writing sure is up there at around 95%.

Please keep this up for as long as you possibly can, but don't forget to have fun while you write. If you lose the fun in writing, the story loses it's soul, remember that.

[DarkWolf]

Damn man, I sympathize with Willow... Every single chapter just continues to throw the whole lot futher down shits creek. The fact any of them have any sanity left amazes me, although it appears Willow is at her breaking point. Oh also...

"I don't know what in Celestia's name you vermin think you're doing here, but I'd suggest y’all get out here all lined up with your guns empty and your stallions ready and primed."

That got a good laugh out of me.

[Sorren]

4455762

why weren't there any flying pegasus zombie coming down or any rockus?

I think I've said this quite a few times in the narrative, but pegasus zombies are pretty rare. Their genetic makeup doesn't survive the infection all too well and to find a pegasus with the ability to fly is rather uncommon. (mostly)

And also. The characters need a break from time to time. I would have a very, very boring story if all they did was fight zombies ALL the time. And on top of that, it takes zombies quite some time to congregate, and before they landed there, there wasn't any reason for there to be zombies in the area.

They're smarter than you think, the zombies.

[Woodenbrony27]

I wonder what will happen to sunny and his group.
Although I don't think he's going to be very innocent for long.

[ILoveAppleJackAB]

Ok my gawd ok calm down ok it took me a whole week to read all of your chapters all I can say is I loved them I I can't comprehend how you even managed to make this it's that perfect literally I'm speechless I just have to clap my hands clap clap no but really you are an amazing writer and i could c you becoming famouse someday for writing something involving fricken ponies ponies for peat sake just keep up the good work and celestia help me get the next chapter out soon I don't know how much longer I can wate especially wight the zombie ponies barging at my door I don't want to die until I finished this whole book keep up the great work I think I'm crazy for loving this so much but what the heck it's a zombie invasion

[Skayn]

Yew ... Range ... are they dead?

[ILoveAppleJackAB]

Next chapter?

[Brilliant Concept]

I can't even begin to remember how I found this
fic but I can say that this is one helluva piece of art. The characters you have created are as intriuging and well thought out as YOUR vision of Equestria. I hope to see this story of love, life and death continue with chapter after brutal chapter.

[Father Figure]

At the beginning, the crash site, I was constantly saying to myself that Ember couldn't die, she had only just gotten back story, she's not allowed to die yet, then she came running through the forest, and a sigh of relief left me. I just knew Brick couldn't die, he's a living tank.

Man, Sunny and Co are probably not doing so well either...

You painted such a horrible world (not like you made a world that was trash) where everyone is paranoid, they don't trust strangers, there's zombies, it really grabs the interest of people.

[Sorren]

4669064
4672774

I normally don't reply too often to comments on my longer stories because it mucks up the comment section, but thank you. This story has always been one that I've wanted to do and I've been doing just that. The worldbuilding and characterization are the parts I have the most fun with.

Glad you two are enjoying it. I'm trying to crank out the next chapter between two jobs and family stuff, so it's going slow, but I'll have it soon, hopefully.

[tranhdxrbntd]

4673448

I was wondering why this story wasn't updating but I just read your most recent blog. I will miss this story and your writing, Sorren.

[YourFellowPony]

Fantastic story. 10/10. recommend listening to this:

it really sets the mood.

[ShumpireMadness]

Nice stuff Sorren. It actually made me cry and on my toes. The first story to actually do so. Keep up the good work Sorren. I loved the part where both Dusty and Snowglobe said they love Moon. That part made me laugh. Thanks for the epic story Sorren.

[Solly]

Loved this story, got my blood running with all the zombie running around, but all things come to an end; this story won't.

[Sorren]

6695123 Ow, my soul hurts.

[Griever]

AHHH, the pure horror! My most favorite story of all time has been cancelled! Well, it would seem that its been cancelled for awhile.. AND I wasn't there to mourn for it!

I happened to have read this ages ago and then lost track of it. A part of me hoping that once I found it again, you would have written like a million words. But it would seem fate was not in my favor

Now, if for some reason, you had written an ending or at least a telling of what you were going to do, I would love to read it. Really.. I beg of you. I need to know what happens to these amazing characters, or I'm going to have to wallow in self pity.

Oh, one more thing! I gotta say, this is/was the best story to EVER grace the pages on Fimfiction. ( At least in my mind.)

[Xaldon Ajide]

7287615 I'm behind Griever on this one, I loved this story the first time I read it, Screw what the plebians say this story was an absolutely fabulous work of survival and intrigue. Not to mention it got my imagination pumping the entire time I was reading it.

[Sorren]

7679607 Thanks so much. I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

Though i started writing it when I was 16, and both me, and my writing have matured immensely in that time. There is no way I could finish it or pick it up at this point.

[Xaldon Ajide]

7682585 RL taking too much time from your writing?

[Sorren]

7682590 That, and lack of motivation, and just about everything else you could think of.

[Xaldon Ajide]

7682593 Ouch, heres hoping that you start up on it some time in the future.